Cinderella Dressed in Ashes

myself,” she knelt down, laid her blowpipe aside, and opened the case.

Something glittered from inside the case, something long and shiny, a handmade sword.

“See?” Cerene, still kneeling down, held the sword with both hands, presenting it to Shew like a Samurai swordsmith to a king.

Shew and Alice were both enchanted at the beauty of the sword. Cerene had forged it from her molten glass, using the Heart, Brain, and Soul. Shew couldn’t avoid thinking this sword had Cerene’s breath in it. It had part of her life in it. Shew had been given emeralds from across the ocean before, diamonds from the heart of Africa, and even exclusive mirrors and masks from Venice. But never had she been gifted with such a valuable sword. The glittery blade looked as if Cerene’s breath waved upon it. She wondered if she’d be holding a piece of her best friend’s life in her hand if she held it.

“Beautiful?” Cerene wondered, afraid Shew wouldn’t like it.

Shew nodded at a loss for words, her eyes shiny.

“Friends!” Cerene squeaked like happy doe-eyed girls in a Manga. The word ‘friends’ cut through Shew again. It made her want to stay in this dream forever, and slay dragons to take care of Cerene.

Shew held the sword by its grip. The Pommel was glass. She held it in front of her, feasting her eyes with its beauty, feeling spiritually connected to Cerene.

The blade was made of glass, not any glass, but Cerene’s secret ingredient glass. The edges were sharp enough you could feel a light cut in your eyes if you stared at it too long. The glass itself wasn’t transparent. It was white, milk white.

“You used Mermaid’s Milk on it?” Shew wondered.

“All of it,” Cerene bragged, standing up. “It gives it incredible strength. I wanted the sword to look like you.”

“Like me?” Shew wondered.

“Black hair, white skin, and blood red lips, so its grip is black and the blade is white.”

“But I don’t see any red?” Shew wondered, carefully flipping it around in case she missed something.

“I thought I didn’t need to add red. That will be your part,” Cerene giggled. “The red on the sword will be the blood of your enemies.”

“But I’m not going to use this sword,” Shew said. “I don’t plan to kill anyone.”

“I think you will,” Alice said, her eyes reminding Shew of Loki. “The perfect sword for the perfect ending,” she whispered behind Cerene’s back. “We’re wasting time.”

Shew realized that this was part of her memory when Cerene designed the Chosen One’s ultimate sword. She had once heard her father say ‘if you’re going to show me a sword, you better use it.’ Suddenly, she remembered all the training her father gave her. She’d been trained to ride horses and kill with her sword. Her father had prepared her for war.

So my power isn’t just my silly fangs and scary looks?

“You have to kill Loki,” Alice insisted again behind Cerene’s back.

Shew shook her head ‘no’, and Cerene noticed.

“What is she telling you?” Cerene said. “Don’t listen to her. She isn’t your friend.”

“If Cerene leaves again, you will be shifted to the memory of your birthday, and you don’t want that to happen,” Alice spoke aloud, neglecting Cerene’s confusion. “The only way to wake up from this dream is to kill Loki, or he will kill you on your birthday. You still don’t remember how you met the Lost Seven or how Loki fell in love with you because of Charmwill’s spell. If you’re transported to your birthday scene, it’s unlikely you can survive it.”

“Now she’s talking about dreams and Loki and all kinds of madness again,” Cerene puffed. “She is crazy.”

“I will not kill Loki,” Shew gritted her teeth with the sword in her grip.

“No, you will. You have to get back to the Waking World and find a way to go to Murano,” Alice whispered the ‘Murano’ word, pointing at Cerene. “You need to go to where you can find out what the clue is,” Alice looked up as the bathhouse’s door sprang open again.

Shew and Alice stood paralyzed as the Queen of Sorrow appeared slowly in front of them.

“Shew?” Carmilla inquired. “What are you doing in the bathhouse?”

“I—” Shew stuttered.

“I asked you a question, Shew,” Carmilla’s demanding voice stirred the air and sent shivers into the princess.

Shew wasn’t concerned about explaining her intrusion into the Queen’s forbidden bathhouse. She worried how she’d explain Cerene and Alice standing next to her. Trying to stall, she turned at Alice but was surprised to find she wasn’t there. Then she turned to look for Cerene, who was also gone.

The fluttering curtain by the window suggested they’d escaped. Cerene must have escaped, fearing the Queen. Alice must have followed trying to stop her or Shew would be transported to the next part of the dream.

“Answer me!” Carmilla was in her face now.

Shew felt dizzy already, knowing that she was about to be shifted to the next part in the dream. She wanted to seize the moment and tell the Queen to go to hell. A perfect line before she escaped this scene. Unfortunately, Shew was too late. The dream had shifted and Shew was worried she was the one going to hell.

30 The Weighing of the Soul

Shew was standing in front of the Schloss. The world around her was quiet as if everyone had died.

It was noon. The beautiful sun slanted its rays upon the huge curvy design of the Schloss’ facade. Shew held the rim of her dress with both hands and entered the unguarded castle. She was expecting a surprise celebration for her sixteenth birthday—her intuition told her this was the day Alice had mentioned.

Inside, the Schloss was strangely vacant. She could find no one. The blue curtains covered every enormous window inside. The curtains looked like wall tapestries with golden curvy drawings, and they blocked the sunlight from peering at the wide hallways. A single, stubborn sunray still managed to peek its way through the thin gap between the curtains, slicing the brownish walls with thins lines of gold.

Shew nudged her toes free, kicking her shoes in the air, each shoe landing on one of the cushiony chairs on both sides of the hallways. They were made of mahogany and cypress with tulip poplars. Everything in this part of the dream was detailed and sharp.

She lifted her dress up with both hands again and walked barefoot beneath the shades of the curtains. She felt comfortable walking barefoot. The sound of her feet flapping on the marble floor was her only company.

The castle’s residents must have hid somewhere to surprise her, she told herself. Important day or not, it still was her birthday and she was longing for celebration. In fact, it was Shew’s last birthday. She knew she’d never grow older than sixteen.

The further she walked in the hallway the more the silence grew on her. Silence usually made her feel uneasy. It made her think that life had stopped, and she feared it would stay that way forever. The silence in the huge castle was deafening today.

Where are Cerene and Alice?

As Shew swallowed, a butterfly broke the silence, fluttering before her eyes. It had blood-orange wings with black spots all over.

Shew followed the butterfly’s path as it fluttered underneath the thick curtains shielding it from the sun. It looked like a ballerina dancing on air in the shades of her private dreams. The butterfly continued its flight up high toward the mosaic cross-arched ceiling. Shew watched it with fascination as if it were her first time in the Schloss.

Looking ahead again, Shew realized she was walking toward Carmilla’s private chamber, a special place she’d built while Angel was away. It featured Carmilla’s individual throne and it was a part of the castle where no noblemen were allowed—she’d only allowed the Huntsmen in when one of the Slave Maidens resisted.