Waking was an unexpected surprise. First, the realization that a gem without a body could sleep. It was as nonsensical as a man flying by flapping his arms; it defied all logic. The next surprise was the loss of my ability to perceive everything within a room at all times. I could no longer hear the faintest whispers, nor could I see beyond what was directly before me. And what was before me? Whatever was before Princess.

  I could see through her eyes; I could hear the sounds around her as she rose from bed, silently crept to the door, and peeked outside into the quiet. She sighed, confirming that her sisters still slept soundly. I could feel her hands moving to her hair, searching for me, but I was no longer there. Alarmed, she hurried to a dresser shared by all three sisters, anxiously undoing her hair in front of the mirror, frantically searching for the blue jewel she had hidden the night before within that chestnut forest.

  Princess rushed to her bed, tossing the sheets aside and finding nothing. She woke Rascal with the commotion, quickly disguising her search as an attempt to make her bed. Rascal, sniffling, rose and imitated her sister.

  “I suppose we have to help a little around the house now that we won’t be taking care of Master Dubart,” Rascal said dejectedly, implying that the sisters were not usually responsible for tidying their own rooms.

  Princess finished her self-imposed task and assisted her younger sister. Concealing the growing concern that sent cold sweat down her back, which I could fully sense, Princess posed a question:

  “Riatna, did you take anything from my hair when I was sleeping?” I was not the only one who called them ‘Princess’s and ‘Rascal’, though they refrained from addressing one another as such. Rascal, of course, had a proper name beyond the silly moniker I had bestowed upon her shortly after meeting with the happy girl.

  Riatna—Rascal—tear-reddened eyes, shook her head, making her tawny locks bounce. “Why? Did you lose something?” Rascal inquired. “A hairpin? A headband? A ribbon?” she guessed at items that might be removed from a woman’s hair.

  “No, it does not matter if you haven’t seen it,” Princess avoided. “I just lost a little something. It’s… blue. Tell me if you see it, and I’ll get you a treat from the kitchen.”

  “You would?” Despite her sorrow, Rascal could always be cheered by the promise of sweets. “Sure! A blue what?”

  “Just something blue. You’ll know it when you see it,” Princess phrased it carefully, so she could later deny its significance and claim it was merely a hair accessory.

  Rascal dressed behind us while Princess rummaged through her belongings, continuing the search. I was as bewildered as she was; I had no idea where my crystallized soul could have vanished. She had yet to locate me by the time Fermina awoke, and the search had to be abandoned. Fermina was shrewd, observant, and perceptive—Princess could not afford any carelessness that might draw her sister’s suspicion. With the aid of a full-length mirror, Princess donned a day dress, and I noticed a peculiar development.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  What I had believed extinguished with my ‘death’ the previous night had inexplicably returned. Through Princess’s eyes, I beheld...

  [The following portion has been removed to comply with platform content guidelines. While presented from a disembodied, non-corporeal perspective and tied to character transformation, this passage contains language that may be flagged as erotic description. The unabridged version is available in the published novel.]

  ...was inevitably covered by yellow cloth, Princess’s favorite color. She brushed her hair, applied powder to her complexion, and waited on Fermina before heading out.

  They wandered through my father’s estate, uncertain of their purpose. The topic on everyone’s lips was the death of one of the three young Masters of the family, a dreaded but inevitable outcome given his unfathomably fragile constitution.

  Through the lens of Princess’s perception, I roamed the domains I had only known by hearsay, their existence ever-present within the confines of our ancestral home, yet remaining uncharted by my own eyes. Highsummit Manor possessed gardens that flourished in spite of winter’s icy breath, the cold bowing to the artistry of a gardener’s touch. The halls bore witness to a lineage painted in oils, the visages of both living and departed ancestors gazing eternally from their frames. Outside, an entire section was dedicated to sculptures, each figure meticulously carved to embody the apex of human beauty—a form which, it must be said, Princess herself uncannily resembled.

  The tranquil pace of the sisters’ saunter was abruptly halted by the hasty arrival of a chore boy. His hands were perpetually stained with the labor of the estate, his shoes battered by endless work, and his hair unruly beneath a tattered cap. With the breathlessness of a lad accustomed to running, he delivered a message: Princess had been summoned by Kyolhan Cafligen, my elder brother, and was to attend him following the morning meal.

  I had never concerned myself with the house’s schedule, for I was indulged in matters of sustenance. I was encouraged to eat as hunger dictated, in whatever quantity I could muster, at any hour of the day or night. The remainder of the household adhered to stricter mealtime conventions, gathering at the prescribed hours when the kitchen prepared its fare for those seated at the dining table. Where the servants took their repast was unknown to me, yet the sisters dined in a spacious room with windows that framed the garden, a view both inspiring and serene. Eight other guests shared the table, permitted to reside within our walls by the absent Lord Duke for reasons of their own. I could scarce believe the room always bore the same heavy silence that now pervaded it, as though the very air grieved my departure, or perhaps, the company merely feigned a semblance of respect.

  With breakfast concluded, Princess made no effort to conceal her apprehension about the impending meeting with my brother. Her mind was plagued with countless worries—some justifiable, others less so—as she was escorted to the antechamber of Kyolhan’s office and meeting room. When summoned by the ring of a bell, she had no choice but to proceed alone. With every step, she willed herself not to weep. Of this, I was acutely aware, though I knew not how.

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