I missed Maya. And I think what I've been feeling these days is catsickness. You know, like homesickness, but worse.
I wanted to fit in so badly here that it made my mind turn against me. Sometimes, I found myself staring at the W-shaped constellation, Cassiopeia, begging her silently to bring Maya back to me.
"Maya..." I crouched into a ball now, pulling my knees to my chest. I want Maya. Dammit, I needed her here.
Iris's POV
Being reborn is quite something. I have a healthy body now, and I can't express how grateful I am to Mother Cassiopeia for giving me this second chance.
I'm no longer the youngest, haha. We have Cordelia here. She gives me hope that we will live differently this time.
Her presence is soothing to me, like a calm after the storm.
Consort Petunia won't have to be childless this time. She was always so depressed after losing her child, but now, with Cordelia surviving, I think it will bring her some peace.
It's been a while since I've heard Cordelia speak, though. Almost a week. She's been so down. Whimpering in her sleep, murmuring the name "Maya," and curling into herself like a frightened kitten. Even the maids have noticed. They're worried, whispering about her as they go about their tasks.
Cordelia has been with us for about three months now. I think we get along well—she's a sweet child, though she looks lost sometimes. But with her sadness spreading like a storm cloud, it's affecting everyone else.
Dorothy's started having nightmares, waking up screaming. Alice? She's sleeping through most of the day, shutting herself off from the world. Elanor's face is constantly drawn into a deep frown, and she's always babbling about making better plans, trying to rally everyone. But no one's paying attention. It's fraying her nerves.
And me? Without Cordelia's bright eyes trailing after me, without her endless questions when she doesn't understand what Elanor or Alice are talking about, I've felt... lonely.
In the past, we sisters had a decent relationship—until we were ten or so. After Consort Petunia fell ill, our mothers started pulling the strings, turning us against each other for the crown. We never had a chance to be close after that. But now? Spending time with them doesn't seem so bad.
Whenever things go south, Cordelia is the one who smooths things over. She's really good at that.
I'm grateful for her presence. I just hope all her sadness melts away soon, and that Mother Cassiopeia blesses her with the happiness she deserves.
Third-Party POV
"Oh God, what is happening? Why is this happening?" one maid whisper-screamed, casting a glance at the princesses.
"Our little angels have become so listless. And restless," another murmured, shaking her head. "It started with the youngest, and now they're all acting out."
"Princess Cordelia... she's always whimpering, crying in her sleep. And then there's Princess Iris, she refuses food. Barely drinks any water."
"Have you seen Princess Dorothy? She wakes up screaming, and it's so difficult to calm her. Princess Alice practically sleeps all day. And no one can even approach Princess Elanor right now—she's so grumpy and overprotective."
The head maid sighed, looking down the corridor as the royal physicians made their daily rounds. "They come every day, but there's been no progress. No change."
The physicians exchanged worried glances as they entered the room. One of them, a tall, graying man, approached the head maid. "Any improvements today?"
The maid shook her head. "None. Princess Iris still refuses food, and Princess Cordelia... well, she's worse. Keeps murmuring something, over and over again. I cannot make heads or tail of what she wants."
The physician furrowed his brow. "We've tried every remedy in our books, but nothing is working. Princess Cordelia's condition is affecting the others—it's spreading like wildfire. If we don't find a solution soon..."
"What do you suggest?" the maid asked, her voice tight with worry. "The queen consorts have been asking about their children. They're getting impatient. But without the blessing of the Goddess, they cannot leave."
Another physician, a younger woman, chimed in, "We've been considering whether it's something... spiritual. Princess Cordelia seems troubled beyond the physical. Maybe we need a priestess of Cassiopeia to intervene."
The head maid gasped slightly. "Do you think it's that serious?"
The older physician nodded grimly. "I'm afraid so. We cannot afford to wait much longer. The princesses are suffering, and the court is beginning to whisper. If the queen consorts catch wind of just how dire this situation is..."
"Is there nothing else we can do?" another maid asked, wringing her hands.
"We can only try," the younger physician said softly. "For now, keep a close eye on them. And we'll try to arrange for a priestess as soon as possible. Perhaps the Goddess will offer some guidance."
The head maid nodded slowly, her eyes drifting to the closed door of the princesses' chambers. "Oh, Mother Cassiopeia, please guide us," she whispered.
The royal physicians left with heavy hearts, and the maids returned to their duties. Inside the chamber, the princesses lay scattered—Cordelia curled up in a tight ball, murmuring softly in her sleep; Iris staring blankly at the ceiling; Dorothy shivering under her blankets; Alice lost in her dreams; and Elanor, pacing like a restless lioness, her frown deepening with every passing minute.
It was as if the palace itself had fallen into a shadow, and only the light of the stars could offer any hope of breaking through.