A World of Wonder

Chapter 1-A Magnificent Morning

Mother always said that imagination is one of the greatest magics of all. Ever since the day I could produce a high pitched infantile scream, a sound that caused the crystal pendant around my neck to glow. A finely cut jewel that all Mystic babies are given at birth, to hold the magic that flows from our bodies, allowing us to channel and produce extraordinary wonders for all to see. Without them, we'd be normal with only our dreams to brighten our days.

Even now, as I muddle over the rainbow of dresses upon my bed, I can't help but let my thoughts wander at the sight of my pendant twinkling under the rays of the early morning sun. Bursts of color pepper the oaken walls of my bedroom, sparks of marigold yellow and orange alighting upon the uneven floor boards. Swaths of scarlet and lapis, twist and twirl upon the flower painted drawers of my dresser, all while the spouts of emerald and amethyst, flurry and fizz on the glass of the windows and the surface of the ancient bronze mirror.

The shocks of color, coincide with the twittering of birds just outside my bedroom window. Their chirping, warbling, singing voices converge into a rhythm, a melody that has me leaping into an impromptu dance of spins and fluttering hair. My pendant, bouncing atop the pale cotton of my night dress, the multicolored gem secured by a silken blue ribbon tied round the tan skin of my throat. But then, alas, the birds stopped singing and my body ceased its dancing.

"Oh, what a shame," I croon to myself, admiring my figure in the mirror as my dress ceases its fluttering against my ankles. "I could dance all day, however I have much to do. Much to do indeed."

In a thrice, I select a dress from the pile. One made of the lightest cotton, green as shimmering willow leaves, and embroidered heavily with a riot of colored thread, to form images of flittering birds and blooming summer flowers. Throwing it on, I grab the matching mud brown corset, also embroidered with brightly hued blooms, securing it around my waist with a few tugs of the butterfly blue lacings. Lastly, I tug on my sturdy buttoned boots, well worn leather that molds around my stocking feet and glows like golden butter.

With myself dressed, I swiftly set to the work of taming my waist length hair. Brushing out the hazel tresses, and adding a few thin braids as I go along. Only when the riot of locks begins to glow like bronze from the morning sun, do I weave three silken ribbons into my hair. The first, red as an apple. The second, yellow as a tulip bulb. The third, a dark purple like the fresh petals of a fragrant violet. My beautification complete, I throw a brown lace shawl about my shoulders and head out of my bedroom.

Upon entering the main room, I'm greeted by my mother's gentle humming and the smell of her mouthwatering berry scones and buttered bread. I inhale the rich sets, smiling at the sight of my father's art plastered around the room. The wood floor dotted with images of gilded instruments, the ceiling decorated with the image of a flourishing world tree. Animals, flowers, vines, and insects crowding its roots and branches. A single piece of what he has done to make our riverside hut a home. From the laced curtained windows, needle point chair cushions, patchwork quilts on the walls, to the handmade stone fireplace. Every piece of riverstone coated in dots and splashes of bright pigment.

"Good morning," I crow, skittering along the boards and planting a kiss on my mother's sweaty cheek. "Did you sleep well Mumsy?"

"As good as can be with your Da snoring for all to hear," she replies, effortlessly pushing a plate of bread and scones into my hands and leading me to my seat at the ever crowded table. "Now hurry up and eat, I have a package for you to take your grandmother. A very urgent errand mind you, so no flittering about with your friends or bothering the soldiers till the delivery is done."

I roll my eyes and dig into my breakfast, careful not to drip berry juice on my clothes or accidently elbow one of Father's pottery creations. Always, Father has painted, woven, patched, molded, and created almost every piece of art imaginable. Especially, with his special talent for making a huge chaotic mess of the table. Hatboxes, feathers, ribbons, paints, brushes, beads, and baubles crowd all around me. Making it difficult to speedily down every crumb and every drop of Mother's rose hip tea.

Once I finished, I hurried over to the washing bucket, deposited my cup and plate, and gave Mother another peck on her cheek. "You are growing up so fast," Mother croons, wiping a stray drop of butter from my chin. "Soon you shall be seventeen within the month, and what a day that will be. Now take this and hurry along, best not keep your grandmother waiting."

I smile and nod, taking the tiny blue wooden box from her hand and placing it safely into one the hidden pockets in my dress skirt. Turning on my heel, I slip out the front door and breath in the cool morning air suffused with the scents of river mud, summer flowers, and dewy grass. I quickly hurry down the dusty road, waving polity to my neighbors in their own huts along the River Dell.

It is a busy strip of water, both its banks crowded with Mystic huts while its waters keep afloat dozens of fishing and trading rafts. I follow its languid form, all the way until the road ends as the River Dell verges to the left to connect with the imposing Blue River, shining like a large glittering sapphire in the early rays of dawn. Focusing back to my task, I turn my head toward the River Dell and the towering buildings of Elorna on the other side of the watery expanse.

Noting the series of rafts that have been anchored in place, to allow their grizzled passengers to sleep without fear of drifting out of sight of the riverbank. I back up a few paces, and then spring forward to the first wooden raft. Like a graceful grasshopper, I hop from each raft to the next, startling some of the rafters awake, while the rest are oblivious to the sudden bounding feet of a lone river jumper.

All too soon, I reach the opposite side, tripping just a tad on my last leap that sends me tumbling in the dirt and landing on my behind. "Curses," I mutter, standing up from the ground and briskly shaking my ruffled skirts free of dirt and pebbles.

"There you are silly billy!" a voice shouts, jerking my head up to find my friend Orchid just before she pulls me into a crushing hug. "I was wondering when you would get here, come on we have to get a head start."

I chuckle and let her pull me along, her black curly hair and ebony skin glowing with vigor. Golden eyes hiding with untold tricks, rumors, and secrets. A flowing dress of purple, dotted with starts, moons, and suns, hangs on her skinny frame like a floating cloud. Like me, her curls hold three lovely ribbons. One blue as the sea, another a deep pink as a lady's blush, and one golden as the buttons of the Turan soldier's uniform that appears right in front of us without warning.

"You!" he growls, pointing at me with an accusing white gloved finger. "Run!" I holler, Orchid and I briskly darting around the red faced soilder. His shouts for reinforcement, echo behind me as I race on for one of the entrances to Elorna. Dust kicking up around me in spiraling clouds, mixing with Orchid's laughter and my own anticipation for what I have planned for today in the city.

A place that doesn't not bind me down, a city where I can be myself in all the ways that count. A whole other world, where I have not one name but three. One that is my given name, one that incites trouble, and the last one that makes me a legend.