Poisonous Crystal Scales

Fragile desires

The prince started back towards the palace. People were still walking the streets, despite the sky taking on shades of crimson and orange. The sun's rays slowly descended along the windows of the houses, creating playful illusions on the walls. Scarde hurried through the streets, paying no attention to the colorful dances and cheerful sounds around him. He was eager to return before nightfall.

When the young prince reached the palace bridge, the soldiers immediately opened the gates to let him in.

He walked slowly among the roses and finally looked up calmly at the sky, dotted with fleecy clouds tinged with shades of red. He exhaled peacefully and gently pushed open the grand door of the palace, adorned with colorful glass. As he entered, he saw the queen, her worried gaze fixed on the Firefly's diamond. With slow but confident steps, Scarde walked over to his mother and softly called her for a conversation.

-Mother, what’s the matter? Your gaze so often falls on the gem lately,- he said, following his mother’s eyes to the large gemstone. The diamond shimmered in hues of lavender and broken blue as the orange light filtered through the stained glass windows. The boy stared and stared at the gem, but could not discern the reason for his mother’s prolonged contemplation.

-Oh, my dear son,- said the queen in a melancholic tone, as if picking the last grape of the year, knowing there would be no more to harvest. -I'm beginning to feel our beloved kingdom slipping away. The diamond's power is weakening, the armor that protects the city grows thinner. Chaos is increasing, and the king... he often holds his head in sorrow. Your dear mother is at a loss. I rack my brain, but to no avail.-

The boy gazed at his mother, his almond-brown eyes scrutinizing her expression. As the queen spoke further, his own eyes grew increasingly sorrowful. His long black eyelashes quivered as he listened to the revelation of their troubles, and his once cheerful face now mirrored his mother's somber expression.

Seeing this, the queen turned to him and gently brushed aside the soft black strands falling into Scarde's eyes. Her gentle blue eyes smiled encouragingly into the boy's sad brown ones. Her hand moved to his face, wiping away the crumbs of concern that he hadn't noticed he'd left behind during his adventures.

-Don't worry, my son. Just live your life. Your mother and the king will figure everything out....-
-Anyway, a bath has been prepared for you. Go, and wash up,- she said with a honeyed voice, her fingers caressing the prince's face. The boy nodded, bidding his mother farewell with a small word of thanks for the day.

He walked pensively down the long marble corridors. Many thoughts occupied his mind—the forest; the mysterious large gem that seemed to be losing its grip; and a girl he had seen at the market that day. Of course, beyond all these thoughts, the one that gripped him most was of the girl. She was of his age, with full lips, a beautiful hourglass figure, emerald green eyes, and wheat-blonde hair. One could say it was love at first sight. Yet, he knew this love or infatuation couldn't last. He couldn't marry a peasant girl, no matter how beautiful she seemed. Still, the thought of holding her hand and gently running his fingers through her thick, light hair was too alluring for him to forget.

Reaching the end of the corridor, Scarde entered a spacious, high-vaulted bathroom, where a marble bathtub with golden feet stood in the center of the room. Surrounding the tub were white tiles with diorite patterns and columns; birchwood shelves hung on the walls, holding the kingdom’s most expensive toiletries. Opposite the tub was an enormous leaded mosaic window offering a view of the crystal-clear waterfall in the valley.

Scarde peeled off his clothes, dropping them beside the door, and once he was completely nude, he stood by the tub, gently stirring the steaming water with soft, slow movements. Rose petals floated continuously on the surface, swirling around. The water sparkled, casting a play of colors on the ceiling adorned with legends. Scarde stepped into the tub and submerged himself up to his neck, letting the soothing warmth envelop him like an embrace from a loved one. With delicate movements, as if caressed by a breeze, he ran his fingers along his limbs, washing away the worries and adventures of the day. He rested his head against the edge of the tub and closed his almond-brown eyes. His breathing slowed, and he let out light, gentle sighs as he felt his body relax and tire from the weight of the water surrounding him.

A tender smile appeared on his lips as he imagined the trees with red leaves swaying invitingly in the wind, the nearly black trunks covered with soft moss at their bases, and the birds whose songs anyone would want to hear every morning. But no matter how vividly he imagined it, when he opened his eyes, he saw only the mosaic depiction of the giant serpent legend on the ceiling—not the red-painted trees, not the green moss, and not the birds with their angelic songs.

He sat in the tub for a while, then stood up with a deep sigh, waiting for the tiny, tickling droplets to run down his body. He stepped out of the tub and dressed in a light blouse and pants over his damp skin. He tousled his hair and walked barefoot towards his room.