Page 2 of Song of the Shadow Prince
With his decree ringing in the air, they left, leaving me broken both physically and spiritually on the cold, hard floor of my home. Uncle Bai rushed to my side and helped me sit up.
“We will find a way, Damien,” he murmured, determination steeling his voice as he helped me stand. “We will find your mate.”
In the dim light of our volcanic home, with my body and spirit laid bare, a new resolve formed within me. Despite the emperor's efforts to curb my destiny, I would rise. I would find my mate. I would reclaim my stolen heritage.
And one day, I would be free from this prison.
1
CAT
As the searing California sun baked the asphalt, I stood on set wearing a costume that was an absurd amalgamation of medieval armor and sci-fi gadgetry. Whoever designed this had clearly drunk one too many espressos. I glanced over at the director Marty, a tiny whirlwind of energy and clashing Hawaiian shirts, who was currently animatedly discussing how my next stunt could “really use more...pizzazz!”
“Yeah, because jumping off a three-story building while fighting CGI monsters isn’t pizzazz-y enough,” I muttered under my breath.
“Alright, everyone! Let’s make magic!” Marty clapped his hands and like obedient schoolchildren, we scrambled into place.
Beside me, Jake, the special effects guru, grinned and handed me a gadget that looked suspiciously like a futuristic toaster. “Just in case you want some toast on your way down, Cat,” he quipped.
“Great. Breakfastanda show. You know, Jake, if this acting gig doesn’t work out, I could always join the circus,” I offered with a wink.
Jake chuckled as he checked the rigging one last time. “With your skillset? You’d be the star performer.”
My skillsets included being a veteran of the U.S. Army’s 82ndAirborne, which had given me the perfect talents to become a stunt woman in Hollywood.
The assistant director, a no-nonsense woman named Trish, gave the countdown. “And in three, two, one… Go!”
As I sprinted, the metal plates of my costume clinked comically. I approached the edge of the rooftop, my heart thumping—not from fear, but from the absurdity of the moment. As I launched into the air, the so-called “futuristic” toaster slipped from my grasp and spiraled into the camera-dense zone below.
“Oh, no, not the toaster!” I heard Jake’s mock despair from the rooftop.
Mid-air, the world slowed down. For a strangely serene second, it was just me and the breeze, until I crashed into the airbag below with all the grace of a deflating balloon.
As the crew rushed over to make sure I was still in one piece, I sat up with a wide grin. “So, who caught the flying toaster?”
Marty, ever the dramatist, clapped his hands with glee. “Brilliant! But let’s try it one more time. I think the toaster could use a bit more... trajectory.”
Rolling my eyes, I stood and dusted myself off. “Sure, Marty. Maybe this time we can aim for popcorn.”
The crew laughed, and even Marty cracked a smile. It was ridiculous, it was chaotic, but moments like these made me love this crazy new world I was part of. Maybe it wasn’t quite as structured as the military, but it was certainly just as adventurous.
I started the trek back to the rooftop, shaking my head slightly as I passed the costume assistant trying to reattach a rogue piece of armor to my shoulder. “It’s a lost cause, Rita. I think we’d have better luck teaching it to fly.”
Rita, a sprightly woman with a seemingly endless supply of safety pins and tape, simply chuckled and patted my arm. “Honey, if anyone could do it, it’d be you.”
Once back on the roof, I saw Jake fiddling with another bizarre prop. “What’s that? Another kitchen appliance for me to juggle?”
“Nope, this time it’s a blender. Figured you might want to make a smoothie on your way down.” Jake’s face was deadpan, but the twinkle in his eye gave him away.
I snorted and grabbed the blender. “As long as it's a frozen margarita coming out of this thing, I'm game.”
The crew set up for another take. Marty was directing with even more gusto, if that was possible. “Let’s focus on the emotional trajectory! This is not just a stunt; it's a metaphor for life’s perpetual plunge into the unknown!”
I nodded solemnly, though I felt a smirk tugging at my lips. “Deep, Marty. Real deep.”
The countdown started again, and this time when I ran and jumped, I held the blender aloft like a trophy. The wind whooshed past my ears, and for a moment, amidst the absurdity, I felt utterly free.
This time, I landed perfectly on the airbag without dropping the ‘essential’ blender. The crew erupted into cheers and applause, not just because I had nailed the stunt, but because I had managed to keep a straight face while holding a blender in mid-air.
