Doesn't everyone want to feel in the night
the beloved body, compass, polestar,
to hear the quiet breathing that says
I am alive, that means also
you are alive, because you hear me,
you are here with me. And when one turns,
the other turns—
That's what he felt, the lord of darkness,
looking at the world he had
constructed for Persephone.
to hear the quiet breathing that says
I am alive, that means also
you are alive
that says
I am alive
I am alive
I was alive, was aware of it all at once. Later, I would be able to recall the exact moment my soul erupted into being inside of this body constructed of pure magic. Strange magic, but a magic I would be eternally grateful for. No matter the turmoils I was bound to face in this big, real world, I would remember. I would remember, no matter how vaguely, being just a soul, free from this human heart and human mind and human body I now inhabited. I would remember being born, coming to life, realizing and gaining consciousness- of everything- in a single moment that I could remember. It was the best feeling, it was life.
I could hear voices, the sounds and tones of hushed conversation. Words laced with excited anticipation. Invisible yellow blossoms bursting in the air, carrying their voices like sunlight in dew. My heart was warm with comfort, as if these voices were almost familiar but not quite. I wanted to hear what they were saying, what they were talking about, but I couldn't. It was as if I was deep underwater, and coming up to the surface very slowly and very gently. There was a voice I was looking for, a voice I heard when I was only a soul without a living body. It was the voice that called me to life. I needed to hear it, to look at the face that called out my name, the person that brought me here. Someone was calling me, and I needed them to know that I had heard.
I could feel the delightful soft feeling of the blanket against my fingertips. The bed I was laying in was so light, so fluffy, so comfortable It was as if I was laying nestled in a big bowl of mashed potatoes. I could smell the sweet perfume of flowers lingering in the air; there must have been a bouquet somewhere nearby. Or several. That scent was ever so soothing as well. Someone had my hand, their skin soft, warm, and alive. I suppose now I, too, was soft, warm, and alive. A long smooth thumb gently brushed over the back of my hand. Coaxing me to life.
I am alive, I thought. The thought was like a seed that was all at once watered and springing up from the rich soil of my consciousness. It burst and bloomed, excited life, beautiful, and fragile. Marvellous. I am alive.
I tried to open my eyes, but it was as if my eyelids were weighted down with concrete blocks. I wanted to see the people these comforting voices belonged to. These almost familiar voices. I wanted to open my eyes and look around for a face. Though I wouldn't recognize the face in the traditional sense, I'd know him as soon as I saw him. Someone had been calling me. I wanted to see him- see them- but my eyes wouldn't cooperate. I squeezed the soft hand holding mine instead.
There was a sharp gasp from my bedside.
"What is it, Miranda?" A deep voice.
"She squeezed my hand, Rolly!" Miranda exclaimed. There were more gasps, and awes of wonder. A blush nearly rose to my cheeks, a strange creature of pleasure with light wings made of paper fluttering somewhere in my chest. It was embarrassing that they were making such a big deal over me coming here. It wasn't a big deal. They had called me, so I had come.
Well, he had called me.
"That's great, Miranda!" The man's voice said. He sat on the bed beside me, and leaned forward. I wasn't uncomfortable at all. I could tell already he was someone that I could trust. He just felt so... open. And honest. I felt... safe. It was as if he wanted to protect me. I could feel the intentions vibrating off of him. Protecting, yet fierce. A father. "She must be able to hear us."
"Y-you mean it worked?" A voice spluttered out. Somewhere inside, I screamed with accomplishment. I had found him. That was the voice, the voice that had been calling me. Though it trembled and cracked, I wasn't any less impressed. I needed to see him, to meet him. He needed to know that I had heard him and I come.
My eyes fluttered open. As they greeted me I blinked around the room, they were a blur of eyes and colors, my vision not yet adjusted. The soft candlelight gently illuminating the room was still surprising to my new eyes. I squinted, trying to make everyone come into focus.
"Brilliant!" A young teenage boy exclaimed. He sounded about fourteen. It wasn't the person I was looking for, but I turned my blurry eyes toward him anyway. To meet him. His chocolate brown eyes glimmered with mischief, but the same sense of protection as the man swirled with promise underneath. A brother. He pumped his fist in the air, and gave me a white-toothed grin. His clothes were neat and his blond hair combed, but there was something in those chocolate brown eyes, and something echoing inside me, something that knew more than this new human mind. A prince. A future king, too, as well as a brother. My brother. "Nice to meet you, sis. I'm James."
"I'm Princess Amber! It's such a pleasure to finally meet you! Oh my goodness, what beautiful eyes!" Princess Amber clutched her little hands together, her face nearly glowing. Her fingernails were neatly cut and glimmering. Her tiara was bedazzled and displayed proudly atop her head. Golden eyes matching her golden locks, and gold-seeking heart. But that heart was speckled with gold itself. Ah, a leader, too. A sister. "I chose the nightgown you're wearing right now, you know. Isn't it just the softest, most comfortable? Not to mention absolutely fabulous!"
Her giggle was almost a squeak.
"My name is Sofia," the last girl said. Her little pink lips curved into a small smile. Her eyes were clear and blue and birght, like a cloudless sky. Sunshine was streaming from somewhere within them. The light warmed and encouraged me. Sofia was the most comforting, as if she might have been a friend. It felt as though we had been through a lot together. I knew it was impossible. There was quite a bit I didn't understand about the whole situation- of coming to life. But I knew for a fact this was my first time alive, yet I wasn't an infant, and so how could Sofia be a friend? Though I was very confused and didn't know what was going on, I decided not to question it. This whole experience of living- it felt good. And I was fortunate enough to be surrounded by people that made me feel safe.
I blinked hard, my long dark lashes fluttering. The feelings were so immense, but not unpleasant, and I stayed very still as I tried to smile, tried to let them know what I was feeling inside of myself in that moment. My lips twitched, but I'm not sure if I got the message across. The woman sitting by my bedside in an upholstered chair squeezed my hand reassuringly. She wore the most gracious red-lipped smile. The same clear blue eyes as her daughter. Understanding and encouraging, and true. A mother.
"I'm Queen Miranda, and this is my husband King Roland." The woman said warmly. She held my hand with her right hand, and rubbed my forearm with her left. "I know everything must be very confusing right now, but please don't be frightened. We want you to know the truth, but we'll afraid it will only confuse you right now."
"For now, we will tell you this," the king said. He reached out and covered his wife's hand, the hand holding mine, with his own. "We're your new family. You could say you were born today. Though you're not a baby." He chuckled. "We'd like to know if it's alright if we called you... Cera."
Cera? Cera. That could be my name Cera. I was alive, and my name was Cera. I heard him calling that name, in fact. I had answered to it. I listened to everything my new parents were saying, but I was still looking, still searching for the face of that person. The one who had asked if it had worked. The person who had been calling me to life.
We were in a large, brilliant room with rich velvet trapestries and curtains hanging down from the high ceiling. They were covered with gold and gilt. A fireplace was across the room from the foot of my large, cushiony bed. The light of the flames flickered and danced on the gleaming, polished floors.
The royal family- my new family- was all crowded around my bed. Not far behind them I could see a few other men. A tall, thin older gentleman appeared to be a butler, and he was smiling at me kindly from behind small round glasses. Next to him and a little farther behind was a shorter man, wearing a tall dark red pointed hat, decorated with golden stars. His long, flowing robes were matching in color with his hat. The man, a sorceror, beamed at me with his silver mustache, cheeks flushed with what looked to be pride.
And there was someone else, peeking out from behind the sorceror. A young, who appeared to be about twenty-four years of age, stared. His dark eyes were wide with disbelief. Purple robes and pale skin, hair of silver and black. It was him, the one who had called me.
I smiled happily at him. Everyone turned to glance to see who I was looking at. The young man stepped back quickly to hide behind the sorceror. I rubbed my tongue against the roof of my mouth. I needed to know the name of that man in purple. He had been calling me.
"Hi," I told him. My voice was a trembling thing, and came out cracking. It sounded more like a frog's croak than the voice of a new princess. A small warmth glowed in my cheeks, at my newness, at my unknowingness. His eyes were wide, something swirling in the darkness of them, something like disbelief over what he had done. He had called me and I had come.
"M-me?" The man asked nervously.
Sofia laughed. "Cera is telling you hi, Cedric!"
"Say hello back!" Queen Miranda- my new mother- encouraged.
But Cedric only stared.
He looked petrified, his eyes wide. Her violet gaze glimmered relentlessly in the firelight. Beautiful clouds of colors, the flowers stacked behind her on a nightside table made her look as if she was somewhere out in the wild. She looked wild, and animal in a way. Beautiful. Shoulder length black hair straight, but poofy and messy, a tangle around her small round, pale face. Her expression wasn't especially fierce or anything. It was simply undreadable. Not quite blank but not quite showing the way anyone else would show. She was an enigma, and he couldn't stop staring back at her. Those eyes, kaleidoscope eyes of dazzling shades, dancing purple and violet. Amethysts.
All the times he had looked upon that purple and chose to help Sofia, if only hoping to snatch that glimmering color away.
That Avalor violet belonged to Cera's eyes now.
No gemstone hung from around Sofia's neck.