One day, you wake up and you get crowned as the Queen.
One night, quite possibly the same night, you take a walk in your new castle and out of nowhere, you get turned into a swan.
What would you do? Would you blame the Fates? Or, would you blame the...
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It was white all around, and that was what made Orynea realize she was dreaming. It did not snow in their part of the world.
As she waded through the thick pile of what she had initially suspected to be snow, her fingers ran through the cottony cover, only to discover the feel they got was that of feathers. She picked one up, simply to be sure of her inference and stared at it in surprise. What a strange dream this was!
The feather between her fingers fluttered and wrung free from her grasp. It flew away and towards the white spread of a sky. Slowly, many more from the little hillocks surrounding her rose and rose in a whirlpool formation around her. As their density and intensity grew to the point that nothing outside of them was visible, Orynea had to look away and she instinctively raised her arm to shield her face.
Orynea opened her eyes with a sudden jerk and her chest heaved out breaths in lots until her heart calmed down. What an odd dream it had been, she reasserted in her mind. She raised herself off the cold, rough bed, and looked around in a daze. As her eyes tried to adjust to the darkness of a possible midnight, she tried to stand up, only to wobble and fall back on the bed.
She sighed and shook her head. Her eyes finally gained their focus and only then did she see that she was in her chambers, as she had assumed.
Indeed, a dark corridor glared at her, marred by thin strips of light that escaped from around and under the thick velvety curtains that were hung in front of the large windows on either side.
Except the one window right above her. Its pelmet was askew and dangling precariously four feet above the ground. Silver, glowing light streamed in through the windows, as if the full moon wished to watch something unfold. She looked to her right and found the dark green curtains pooled by the foot of the wall. Not just that.
Her blue nightgown lay in a pool of silk under and over the velvet.
And her torso was white.
White. Covered in plumes.
She raised her arms, except they were not arms anymore. They were feathered wings! Her feet too were not human limbs, but webbed ones like water birds! She dreaded to see what she looked like -
A sudden commotion close by spooked Orynea into action. Without meaning them to, her wings flapped and she levitated above the floor, turning around in fear.
The latch on the window suddenly gave way and the panes flung open outwards. She could hear more movements somewhere quite close to her, and she let her instincts take the drive.
Her wings faltered as they flapped and tried to manoeuvre her over the sill and through the window. She found herself rise very high into the moonlit night, her flight patterned in an odd up-and-down motion, quite unlike a bird practised all its life in flying.
Orynea did not look back, nor did she pay any attention to where she was headed. She simply tried to wrap her head around what was happening, and willing herself to wake up from this horrid dream.
