Time Is An Illusion

the worst day ever

We walk in silence through the big, fancy halls of the palace, where every Keiralie ever has their face hung up on the walls. All of them were big-time leaders.
After, like, forever, we finally get to the door of the throne room, and I feel all mixed up inside—part of me is super excited, but the other part? Totally freaked out. The door is enormous and covered in intricate carvings that show off how great the Keiralies are. I reach out to push it open, my hand's shaking.
But I pull it together because, duh, this is a big deal.

I take a deep breath and shove open the door, which is way heavier than it looks. The throne room is humongous, with ceilings so high they probably touch the clouds. Everything's dripping in gold, with walls covered in long, detailed tapestries. Light streams in through these colourful glass windows, making everything look like a rainbow exploded on the marble floor. It’s actually kind of pretty.

Today, I’m getting crowned, which is a fancy way of saying I’ll be king if my parents kick the bucket.
My mom’s an Oracle, which means she can peek into the future whenever she feels like it. She looked into mine when I was a baby, but all she does is act all secretive about what she saw. Something about my future freaks her out, but she won’t tell me what. She just keeps saying it’ll be the death of my parents.

Awesome. No pressure, right? My hands start shaking, my breath goes all weird, and I can feel sweat trickling down my face. I have to literally swallow my fear, like gulp it down, and try to focus on what’s happening right now.

I walk further into the room, and my eyes land on the throne way at the end. It’s this massive thing made of solid gold, covered in carvings that scream “I’m in charge!” The cushions are deep sapphire blue.

The room’s filled with all these courtiers and advisors, whispering to each other and giving me side-eye. I can feel their stares like they’re expecting me to do something amazing. It’s like a mountain of pressure weighing down on me, and I’m trying so hard to act like I’m totally fine, but inside, I feel like I might just fall over.

My parents, who run Litharos right now, stand beside me, and thank goodness for that because they make me feel less like I’m going to throw up. My mum looks all wise and glowy, like she knows everything, and my dad stands tall and serious, like he could knock over a wall just by looking at it. They’ve been running this kingdom forever, and now it’s supposed to be my turn. Yay.

As I get closer to the throne, I can’t help but feel proud and, okay, a little determined. I’ve been trained for this moment since, well, since I can remember. I know all about diplomacy (yawn), strategy (double yawn), and leadership (the biggest yawn ever). I’ve read every boring history book about our kingdom, learning all the stuff past rulers did right—and, more importantly, what they messed up. I’m supposed to be ready to be king, to lead our people to some shiny, awesome future.

But no matter how pumped up I try to be, there’s still this itch of worry that won’t go away. Mom’s creepy warning about the future keeps bouncing around in my head. What if I screw everything up? What if I can’t protect our kingdom or our people? And seriously, what would I do without my parents? I’ve literally never done anything without them.

When I finally sit on the throne, the crown is plopped on my head, and oh boy, it’s heavy. Like, really heavy. It’s supposed to be a symbol of power or whatever, but all it feels like is a giant rock sitting on my skull. I take a second to pull myself together, take a deep breath, and try to remember all the wise stuff my ancestors did.

I’ve got to be honest here—I’m totally freaked out. Today’s my eighth birthday and my coronation day. The whole future of our kingdom is about to get dumped in my lap, and it’s more than a bit overwhelming. And seriously, why couldn’t one of my older siblings do this? Starell is twelve—she’s “practically an adult.” According to herself and Drakon is sixteen—he’s way more ready for this than me! But no, apparently, this is my “destiny.” Great.