-By: Alira-

Sonika stood with her arms outstretched, as her three young, female aides flitted about her like moths surrounding a lamp, adjusting and readjusting Sonika’s dress. Sonika twisted her shoulders from side to side, trying to readjust the bodice of the dress without using her hands. Not that she didn’t want to touch the dress- the problem was that she couldn’t, for her assistants were holding her arms out horizontally as they dressed her. Sighing quietly, Sonika resigned herself to her fate, and tried to ignore the three women tugging at hems and adjusting cuffs on sleeves.

In actuality, Sonika didn’t mind being dressed. She was considered a princess, a female of the highest rank, and had grown used to being dressed and waited on by her servants. Not only that, but Sonika liked the dress they were fitting her into. Dress wasn’t exactly the word to describe the outfit, however- in reality, it was a red, silk sleeveless bodice that held itself in place over her chest with its elasticity and similar red silk pants that belled out before her ankles, where they were bound tight again with wide, gold satin bands. Around her waist her aides were fixing a similar, gold-colored satin belt. However, this was not all to the outfit. Two additional, gold-colored satin bands graced her slender, brazen wrists, anchoring the finely woven, transparent scarves her attendants were draping about her person. The scarves, too, were of red thread, becoming pink out of transparency. The final touch to the outfit itself was something for Sonika’s feet- she wore gold, satin slippers.

The three young women- when Sonika thought about it, they really were very young, younger than her, in fact- finally deemed the outfit presentable. This did not, however, mean that Sonika was free of the girls’ attentions. They still needed to do her hair for her eighteenth birthday celebration. Twittering softly to one another, they led her to the vanity in Sonika’s room, where they seated her before the mirror.

Quietly, Sonika stared straight ahead, as her reflection looked back upon her, straight-faced. To amuse herself as her maids busied themselves with her hair, all three of them, Sonika examined her reflection. Atop a slender neck, an oval-shaped face rested, a face of a warm, brazen complexion. That face was framed by long, lustrous black hair, which was currently being manipulated by the maids. Her eyes, too, were dark, and almond-shaped, framed by long, dark lashes. Above the eyes, two thin eyebrows arched, and between them her nose swept down, framed on either side by Sonika’s high cheekbones. Finally, her lips, which were neither full nor thin.

Overall, not a bad-looking face. Sonika knew she was pretty, and was thankful for it. As the crown princess in the Empire, appearances were very important, and her parents made this very clear. She was, more or less, breeding stock, and her looks were what would buy her a mate. That, and her position as crown princess. For this reason, one of her maids, having finished her share of the work on Sonika’s hair, began painting Sonika’s face. Cheeks, eyes, lips . . . Such cosmetic touch-ups covered any flaws in her appearance. Another popular belief- the crown princess would have no flaws.

Not that Sonika was ungrateful. She was pleased to no end with her position as crown princess in the Western Empire. As such, her parents were the Emperor and Empress, but such was not a problem, not to Sonika. Emperor Tilak was as caring a father as she could have asked for; he taught her many valuable lessons and never raised a hand to her out of anger. Then there was Empress Rashmika. Maybe she could have used a bit more personal care from her mother, maybe they would have bonded more closely if they had spent more time in one another’s company. But Rashmika did care for Sonika; her tutors, maids, and servants were proof of that.

Despite this all, Sonika was generally displeased with her lot in life, at least at the moment. The first seventeen years of Sonika’s life had been pure bliss. She had been raised in a sheltered environment, surrounded by caring, concerned people. But as the eighteenth year approached . . . Sonika began to worry, and for the obvious reasons. That very evening, the entire palace in Pallivini Divya, the capital city of the Empire, would celebrate the eighteenth birthday of their crown princess. Their little darling would then be old enough to wed. Would then be obligated to wed.

At least the evening itself wasn’t much of a problem- only the banquet. Tonight, Sonika would celebrate the final night of her freedom, and she would enjoy herself if it killed her. She would do it for everyone; for the entire Empire, for her parents, but most importantly- for herself. Sonika already liked the dress that had been tailored for the occasion. She would go downstairs, sample the food and the entertainment, and see if she could enjoy herself, overall.

She would enjoy her last night sitting by her parents, sitting with them and the other nobles in the Empire, and with no suitors in sight. She rose from her seat before the mirror, her remaining two maids stepping away as they completed their work. Before turning away, Sonika took one last look at her reflection in the mirror. She told herself it was to remember the night by, to remember what freedom looked like. She still felt as if she’d been innocently walking along, leading her life, when this unavoidable trap that was marriage just opened up beneath her, swallowing her alive.

In the mirror, Sonika saw her long, long black hair, the hair that stretched past her waist, carefully arranged partially upon her head, with the remaining hair, too heavy to be piled up with the rest, cascading neatly beneath in seemingly endless waves of ebony. In her costume of red, with her hair done up and her cheeks and lips painted in red, Sonika felt like nothing more than a doll, a puppet. Angry, but unwilling to let it show, Sonika turned from the mirror. With her two maids following, and the third dropping into line after having closed the door to her suite behind her, Sonika made her way swiftly towards the banquet hall.

Sonika sat in the vaulted banquet hall, her eyes downcast. Rather than looking up at the domelike ceiling with its vibrant, detailed depiction of the Sun-God flowing across the plaster, she stared blankly at her lap, using her right hand to toy with the golden cuff gracing her left wrist. She saw not the grandeur of the room; she’d seen it all before, in any case. Were the domed ceiling of the room a bowl, the mural would only just cover its bottom. Past the edges of the painting, windows surrounded the room in a circle, where they could most effectively light the room- in the daytime. Now that it was evening, lamps had been lit to light the room. They had been hung on hooks below the windows with the aid of poles, so as to achieve an effect similar to that created by sunlight.

The room itself was as elaborate as the mural gracing the dome that was the ceiling. The center of the floor was lowered, not raised, and the high table sat above the indentation, aligned perpendicularly and with the royal family seated at the center of the long table, as opposed to the end. From such a point, they would have the best view of the room. The room was painted a pale yellow, the floor tiled in similar, sunny shades. Behind the high table was a velvet curtain of gold fabric, which currently shielded the dais from view.

Sonika was successfully ignoring the room, but when her father, Emperor Tilak, rose from his grand chair with his glass, she could not ignore the bell-like peal of silverware contacting crystal glass. The sound effectively silenced everyone in the room. In the silence, Emperor Tilak cleared his throat,; a gesture Sonika thought of as greatly unnecessary.

Looking up at last, and looking over her father, Sonika half smiled, despite herself. He looked as his father had before him, with the traditional, thick black hair of the royal family and medium complexion that was the trademark of all the Empire’s people. His eyes were dark as hers, and radiated with the light of his pride and pleasure in his daughter, despite his otherwise stern and authorative expression. Sonika knew what was coming; this was the toast before the feast.

“Citizens of our fine capital, Pallavini Divya,” he called out, his deep, resonate voice sounding clearly throughout the entire room. “I, your Emperor, thank you on behalf of my daughter, Princess Sonika, for joining us at her eighteenth birthday celebration. As you all know, this is an important time for us at the Palace, seeing as our dearest little princess isn’t so little any more. It’s time for her mother, the beloved Empress and my wife, to choose a husband for our daughter. Undoubtedly, this will result in a grand wedding celebration. But before that celebration, we come together for this one. So, if you would join me now in a toast to my daughter, the entire royal family would be pleased.”

Emperor Tilak lifted his sparkling glass, smiling and raising a brow. At the many tables before them in the center of the room, and along the high table, the citizens of Pallavini Divya lifted their glasses as well.

“To my daughter, Sonika,” Emperor Tilak began, as the people below him echoed his words, “on her eighteenth birthday. May you find love in your marriage and learning throughout your life. May never a day pass without event. Best wishes for the future, rajdulari.”

Sonika tried to smile and look pleased as everyone toasted her health, but she couldn’t quite enjoy it. She did smile, however, upon hearing the childhood nickname her father had used in the toast. It meant “beloved princess” and it always made her feel special. The toast complete, Emperor Tilak moved to resume his chair, but before he was seated, even, finely-dressed servants were scurrying in, bearing trays heavily laden with food for the banquet.

Quietly, Sonika let her mother serve her. She kept her eyes locked upon the golden plate she had been given. They’d used the best . . . Golden plates, platters, and tureens; silver forks, spoons, knives, and other serving apparatus; even the finely cut crystal wineglasses. Her parents meant for her to enjoy this night. Her stomach turned; her heart knew she was doing no such thing.

Sonika picked at her food for this reason; she didn’t want to appear completely ungrateful. Finally, after what must have been an hour of eating and gossiping, Sonika’s mother rose from the table. Once again, Sonika knew what was coming. Now, the entertainment. Usually music and dancing, but if Sonika’s mother had found any special performers to appear at the princess’ eighteenth birthday celebration, those performances would come first. Sonika watched as Empress Rashmika silenced their guests before announcing the plan for the evening.

“. . . very glad you could all be here to celebrate,” the Empress was saying. “So as a special treat, we will have a few performances, and then the floor will be opened up to those who would like to dance. But in the mean time-” Here, the Empress presented a very special smile. “-We have a treat that is the best of the best, the most impressive performer here tonight, in my eyes. On that note, I would like to present the Flaming Iris- AYAME!”

Sonika had expected something like that- “Flaming Iris” was a stage name, and this Ayame would be a magician. But the person’s real name? Ayame? That wasn’t a name of the Western Empire, and that made Sonika curious. But when she saw the woman herself . . .

Shortly before, at the Empress’ command, the tables in the indentation had been moved to the side of the floor, creating a “stage” in the center, before Sonika and her parents. When the Empress called her name, Ayame- Sonika could now see that Ayame was a woman- made her way out across the floor. Usually, a new performer was met by murmurs of curiosity and appreciation. Ayame’s entrance was met by stunned silence.

Were one to look out across the crowd, they would see hundreds of similar, brazen faces; Ayame, on the other hand, had a complexion pale as porcelain. She was definitely not out of the Western Empire. But her hair and eyes were dark, as was typical in the Empire. Her outfit was the next surprise.

Sonika’s outfit, for example, was made in the traditional fashion of royalty in the Empire. Typical citizens, too, wore outfit’s a bit like hers when they were not working, but theirs were of inexpensive materials. Sonika’s outfit was tailored to appear light, gauzy- like a cloud. Ayame’s, on the other hand, was like a waterfall. Full of straight lines, like the water in the falls cascading straight down, but dazzling all the same, like spray from a waterfall reflecting back sunlight. Ayame’s dress was of a material like cotton, and in an elaborate pink-and-white design. The cuffs of the sleeves and the legs were both wider than necessary, like pouches, and on her feet, Ayame wore both stockings and wooden clogs. Despite the strangeness, Sonika appreciated the beauty of the outfit.

After her audience had been given time to gawk, Ayame cut off their stares with spoken words. “Greetings, citizens of Pallavini Divya,” she called in a high, clear voice. “I am Ayame, the Flaming Iris. Now, I’m sure you wouldn’t believe me now, but ‘flaming’ is the best adjective to describe me, or my performance. I’ve already told you so, and still you do not believe, so . . .” Ayame paused for dramatic effect. “I will show you.”

Beginning to grin, Ayame extended an arm, over which the sleeve of her dress draped, and ignited a ball of flame in her palm. She made a dramatized face, as if displeased, and ignited a second flame in her other palm. A small smile now gracing her lips, Ayame levitated both flaming balls of magic, passing them through the air, multiplying them. She closed her eyes, and the dancing flames began to circle her, growing brighter and spinning faster, so that Ayame’s entire form glowed red. Finally, they blasted outwards, scaring half of the guests witless. Out of fear, many ducked, afraid that they would be burnt. However, when the dancing balls of flame collided with the banquet hall walls, they merely exploded in a shower of harmless sparks.

Grinning again, Ayame bowed twice in succession, before continuing on with her act. Sonika, on the other hand, was entranced. She’d seen magicians before, hundreds of them, but most were male, and none had done anything like this. All the previous magicians, those acts were petty tricks. This- now this was real magic. Ayame’s act continued, and true to her name, most every “trick” she performed involved fire. Finally, the act was almost over, but Ayame warned the room that she had one demonstration left- one very special demonstration, for the princess herself, were Sonika to come down onto the floor with Ayame.

Still enthralled, hypnotized by Ayame’s act, Sonika saw no reason not to come down and help Ayame with the final demonstration. Ayame didn’t even need her to do much- merely to stand in the center of the floor, arms crossed across her chest so that her right hand rested on her left shoulder, and her left hand on her right. Sonika knew when the magic was beginning, she could feel it, but now she couldn’t see it, as the other guests did. She merely saw a hazy red glow that was spreading across her field of vision, obscuring sight. Then the real magic began.

Sonika felt it passing through her, and out of her, like water surging through floodgates, only even more powerful. The touch of the magic was a tender caress, an offering of things to come, things Sonika could grasp as hers, but only after accepting the things that had come, and those in the future, the good and the bad. The magic was warm, and sent a tingling sensation through her entire body, starting at the very center, her heart, and extending towards fingers and toes. Sonika wished the sensation would last an eternity, but the warmth passed from her fingers and toes, and it was gone.

The magic was gone, and the feeling was awful. Like being plunged into an icy bucket of water. Not only did it feel wrong to Sonika, but somehow she knew it was wrong, at a instinctual level. Something had gone wrong in Ayame’s plan, and that something would have disastrous effects. Had had disastrous effects. Somehow, the magic had skewed Sonika’s perception of time, and made it nearly impossible for her to do something as simple as opening her eyes.

Her eyes open, Sonika was shocked. She knew Ayame should be behind her, but somehow felt that she wasn’t. That wasn’t the worst of the shock. There was the banquet hall itself- the satin curtains of the dais had been burned away, the walls on that side of the room scorched black. The tables which had been surrounding the floor had been blasted back; some only thrust against the wall, some flung so violently as to have shattered into kindling. All of the guests were gone. Finally, and most importantly, Sonika’s mother, the Empress Rashmika, stood a mere two feet in front of her, her dress scorched, but the Empress otherwise unharmed. However, her face was the very picture of worry.

Rashmika had been watching Sonika with rapt attention, as if she were the most interesting thing in the room, and yet it still took her a moment to realize that Sonika had come out of her trance.

“Sonika!” Rashmika exclaimed, throwing her arms about her daughter in an unprecedented display of maternal affection. “You were looking like the living dead!”

Sonika shook her head back and forth, only half hearing Rashmika’s words; the effects of the magic and whatever had gone wrong were lingering. She still felt dizzy and disoriented, and the red haze from before still hadn’t fled, not in its entirety. She must have spaced out for a while, trying to purge the red from her vision, for the next words she understood out of Rashmika’s mouth were “conjure a bloody, flaming dragon!”

“What was that?” Sonika asked, paying attention once more.

“I was just explaining what happened before,” Rashmika clarified, sounding a bit huffy. “When that magician girl said that she would conjure forth a flaming dragon for her final demonstration, we all thought that it would be more of those harmless, exploding flamelets of hers. She said she’d only be able to do the trick with the aid of a “special assistant”- you- but we all saw that as a mere part of the act. But when you were up there . . . You appeared transformed. As if you were the dragon. That was how she meant it, of course, but . . .”

Rashmika trailed off, and Sonika had to practically force her to continue.

“Something went wrong,” Rashmika confessed. “I don’t know what- I’m no magician- but it . . . It . . . It did this.”

Rashmika waved her arms in a spreading gesture, indicating that she meant the damage all over the room. Sonika could see that her mother was distressed, but now that she had started, Sonika wouldn’t let Rashmika stop until she had told everything she had to tell.

“Go on,” Sonika prompted insistently. “Something went wrong? Describe it to me.”

Sonika waited, her eyes riveted on the matching set that were her mother’s; her gaze even, her mother’s shifty and frightened. Rashmika opened her mouth multiple times, trying to speak, but she could only mouth the words. Her throat had closed up out of agitation. Finally, she must have become too disgusted with herself, traumatized as she was, for Rashmika uttered one last strangled cry, lifted up her skirts, and fled the room.

“Everything will be all right,” Sonika said carefully, her tone a soothing one. “I don’t want you to have to worry about that awful thing that happened at the banquet. As crown princess of the Empire, I will seek out the magician, and set things straight.”

Sonika attempted a reassuring smile; she’d just asked the Empress, her mother, for permission to leave the palace on some scatterbrained quest. Were she calm and composed as she usually was, Rashmika wouldn’t waste a thought on such a request. However, Sonika felt that, this time, she had a chance. And she would take that chance, for all of the reasons driving her.

Were Sonika allowed to go after Ayame, it would delay wedding plans. Sonika would do most anything to delay being wed. Sonika also wanted to go out of curiosity- the magician was different from anyone else Sonika knew, and she’d find out the why to it. But her final and most surprising reason was what really drove her. Sonika was telling her mother that she went to learn the nature of this dangerous magic, but that was only part of the truth. The feel of the magic had been pure bliss, and that bliss drove her now. Sonika would find out what spell did that, if it took her years.

As Sonika thought, Rashmika did the same, studying her daughter’s request. Sonika prayed desperately that Rashmika would say yes- it meant everything to her.

“I don’t know . . .” Rashmika said slowly. “What about the wedding plans?”

Sonika had been expecting this, and was prepared. “Plan the wedding while I’m gone.” Rashmika appeared dumbstruck. “Look, mother, I don’t care what color silk the dresses are, or where the flowers used were grown. You work that stuff out. And line up suitors. Then, when I return, I’ll choose a husband, and everything will be ready. I’ll be gone no time at all.”

Rashmika looked to like the idea of total control, more or less, but wasn’t completely sold.

“Don’t worry mother,” Sonika continued. “I’ll be perfectly safe within the empire, and the boundary prevents me from getting farther. The boundary is miles off, in any case. But as we speak, Ayame moves farther and farther away. I really should be off.”

That won it for Sonika; Rashmika offered a nod and a small sigh, giving Sonika permission to leave.

“Thank you, mother!” Sonika cried happily, giving the older woman a spontaneous hug. After Rashmika had run off, Sonika had followed the Empress back to her suite. Leaving, Sonika passed through the series of rooms with a smile upon her lips. She’d go first to her rooms to pack, then she would be off.

(Quick Note: This is a rough draft for my “Writers of the Future” contest story. I think. So I purposefully left out some details the audience might like, because of the 17,000 word limit)