What happened?
Ling’s mind felt like a lake wrapped in fog, a strip of memory cracked like broken ice. Two shards refused to meet.
Not a total void, though. She still saw Remi and Flan returning like travelers dusted in sun, laughter clinging like autumn leaves.
She remembered teasing Remi, a flicked spark meant to draw Alicia’s gaze away, like tossing a pebble to ripple a pond.
That ripple hid Remi and Flan’s mischief, a veil of water shimmering like glass. Then something clamped her tongue, like iron jaws in a trap.
And then she saw… a Daemon. A shadow with heat like a kiln and eyes like lantern fire. After that, nothing—silence like snow.
No matter how she fished in that fog, her hook caught nothing but cold. She asked Remi and Flan, and their faces went plum-dark, like bruises.
They bolted like startled deer, feet pattering into distance, leaving no tracks and no hints, only a chill draft in the doorway.
Clang—
A jolt rose from under her, like a drumbeat in wood, yanking Ling out of the gray water of thought. Her rear burned like hot chili.
“Sis! Ease up! My butt’s on fire!”
A “Got it” chimed from ahead, Alicia’s voice bright as a bell shaped by her alone.
Right—forgot to say. They were on the road home, wheels stitching miles like needles drawing thread.
Ling had meant to start her world-conquest right away, a banner flapping in a storm. Alicia cut it down with a smooth hand.
She said they had to go home first, a hearth before a battlefield. Ling shrugged. Your chest’s bigger, you get to call it.
So the destination became the Moser Empire, a crown of stone under a slate sky. That suited Ling’s winds, anyway.
She wasn’t ready. A pause would be a quiet harbor to stack supplies, to chart the order of conquest like stars in a night map.
If the tides were right, founding a nation wouldn’t be off the table. A seed in good soil pushes up green.
—Loli prayers ongoing—
After fifty-one Remi-hours—one tick for each time they bullied Remi like batting a mischievous cat—the group reached their empire’s gate, stone teeth in the dusk.
Ling was the most excited, a sparrow hopping toward spilled grain. The trip had been raw food and river water, primitive as flint sparks.
If not for the buns she’d stashed like warm moons, she might’ve cracked on the spot, a pot split by sudden heat.
“It’s Princess Alicia!”
The shout rose above their heads like a flock taking wing, boots rattling the earth like rain on drums. In under five minutes, the gate yawned open.
An old man in pink sheep pajamas rushed in like dawn breaking, arms wrapping Alicia with a tremble like leaves in wind.
“Alicia! I thought you’d never come back! Ah—ah—You scared me half to death!”
Who else wails like that but the king, a lion with tears like dew?
Alicia hugged him back, palms steady as a warm stove. She didn’t know why he cried so hard, but knew he needed a hold.
“Mm. I’m home, Dad.”
The scene glowed with saintly light, a soft halo like sunrise on frost. Ling and the Remi sisters watched, envy pricking like nettles.
They’d never known family, not the taste or the warmth. They envied something they couldn’t name, a sweetness like fruit behind a fence.
“Dad… Father, let’s go inside. Standing here feels a bit… shameful.”
Their glow drew people like moths to a lantern. Crowds pooled around the carriage, blessings falling like petals, soft and endless.
Alicia felt no joy, only a pinch of awkwardness, a pebble in the shoe. The king flinched, awareness striking like a slap.
He pressed the blush down, face settling into a cool mask like stone beside water. He spoke level, a string pulled tight.
“Drive. Back to the palace!”
A black luxury sedan shot toward Alicia like a swallow diving. At the kiss of collision, it spun a perfect 180, parking clean as a blade laid flat.
The horse was gone, led away like a cloud tugged from the sky. Alicia noticed only now, a blink clearing dust from her eyes.
Click!
Two odd tendrils unfolded from the sedan’s rear, snaring the carriage like vines embracing an old tree. Sense bent, and a hybrid carriage was born.
Ling saw the wrongness and primed a quip, a spark held in her lips. The engine roared, thunder rolling, alarms on scooters flaring like startled geese.
None of it slowed the launch. In two seconds, speed hammered to its peak, towing the carriage like a kite dragged by a storm.
Traffic was tight, cars packed like fish in a net. The driver’s skill matched Alicia’s, skimming edges like a hawk’s wing, leaving not a single scratch.
Ling sat within the wood and paint, heart beating like a drum under silk. The jokes fell away like husks.
She noticed one thing, bright as a firefly in dark: even at full tilt, no dizziness. Not a ripple in the inner lake.
Who knew what strange rules shaped this ride? It didn’t matter. She finally tasted Alicia’s speed-ecstasy, honey whipped by wind.
Air stroked her ears with a whoosh, a river whispering past stone. The gale lifted her hair like banners, cool fingers combing strands.
The engine’s thunder and the carriage wheels’ clack became music, a festival drumline. Even the outside girls’ screams rang sweet, sugar in the storm.
