"Not every hand that reaches for you means to hold you. Some reach only to make sure you stay lost."— Ella the Silvertongued Princess
Dove, age 7.
They led us through the soft golden sands toward a castle that shimmered like a dream.A palace made of green stone, the walls polished to a high gleam under the heavy sun.
"It's jade," I heard my new brother say proudly to Cecilia.
She nodded politely, offering him a tight smile like our mother had taught us to do with important people.Cecilia wasn't rude — she was never rude — but she wasn't really smiling either.
The less she looked at him, the more the boy seemed to preen, puffing up like a crow desperate for notice.
I trailed behind them, my feet kicking up little clouds of sand, trying to catch up without really intruding.
The closer we came to the castle, the more the sand gave way to a dense, vibrant jungle — a tangle of trees dripping in flowers of every colour.People bustled to and fro, laughing, carrying baskets, singing.
It was nothing like the polished, cold courtyards of home.
Here, everything was alive.
Inside the jade palace, the walls gleamed a soft white, like the inside of a seashell.Light rippled across the floors. The very air felt full of something — possibility, maybe. Magic.
Father kept me close as we walked through the grand halls, his large hand resting heavy on my shoulder.I leaned into him, feeling for a moment like maybe I wasn't forgotten.
Lady Sand — our host — ushered us into a pearl-inlaid parlor where tea steamed in delicate glass cups.After the adults were settled, she shooed us children away.
Father's hand lingered on my shoulder a moment longer before he gently nudged me forward.
Cecilia and Francesco drifted ahead toward a shaded garden path.I followed, eager to stay near.
The garden outside was more beautiful than anything I had ever imagined — a living mosaic of wildflowers and soft green water pools reflecting the sky.
I ran ahead, letting my fingers brush the tall flowers, memorizing their colours so I could tell Cecilia about them later.
She would love the violet ones, I thought.Maybe she would even smile for real.
I rushed back to her, excitement bubbling up inside me, and grabbed her hand.
"Cece, come see!" I tugged, trying to pull her toward a patch of blooms.
Francesco's hand came out of nowhere.
He shoved me hard.
I stumbled, falling onto the damp stone path. The scrape of it burned.
When I looked up, he was sneering.
"I was speaking to Princess Cecilia," he snapped, voice sharp with venom."Begone, stupid shadow."
I swallowed the cry clawing up my throat and backed away.Cecilia didn't defend me.She didn't reach for me.
She only stared at Francesco with something hard and cold in her eyes.
He looked pleased with himself.
I turned and ran, plunging deeper into the wild garden where no one could see me cry.
No one called after me.
No one came.
--
Dove.
A hand on my shoulder jolted me back to the present.
"Are you okay?" Raven's voice was gentle but steady.
I flinched away instinctively, shuddering off the memory like a cold second skin.
Raven immediately withdrew her hand, murmuring an apology, and turned her attention back to checking my bandages.
This time, when she peeled back the leaves, she didn't replace them.
Instead, she hesitated — then offered her hand again, open and patient.
"What would you think about a real bath?" she asked. "A short soak. Medicinal. It'll help."
I glanced uneasily at the natural hot spring steaming just beyond us. The water looked almost too clear. Too deep.
I shook my head at first, small and stiff.
Raven didn't push.She just smiled — that small, tired smile — and limped over to the supply shelves.
One by one, she pulled down brightly colored satchels, tossing their contents into a mesh basket attached to the side of the spring.The sharp scents of crushed herbs rose up to meet the heavy air: mint, sage, something darker underneath.
"Ready?" she asked.
I gave a reluctant nod.
Carefully, painfully, I slid off the table, feeling every raw scab stretch against my healing skin.My body was a patchwork of hurt — a map of the wrongs done to me, carved deep into flesh and bone.
I moved slowly into the water, hissing at the heat.Raven slid in beside me with a long sigh, the weight of years easing off her shoulders in the embrace of the spring.
"You know," she said after a while, "this is the only place in the Aviary I actually like."
I tried to summon a smile. "Other than the kitchen?"
Raven blinked at me, startled.I guess I hadn't spoken much in days.
She laughed — a real, breathless laugh that cracked open the heavy silence like a bird smashing free of its shell.
"Yeah," she said, grinning. "Food and water. We take what we can."
I let myself sink a little deeper into the spring, letting the herbs wrap around me like a second skin.
Maybe she was right.
Maybe here — just for now — we could take what small mercies we could find.
Before the world remembered us and the cages snapped shut again.