So, I walked up the platform, smoothed my dress, took the magical crystal microphone (aka a crystal on a stick that Henry and his father, the blacksmith made), and smiled.
The cheers doubled.
Princess Milabuella? She looked like she wanted to bite the microphone and then me.
I cleared my throat, looked at the crowd, then at the king—who nodded like a proud stage mother—and started singing when the music started.
"Every night in my dreams…"
And the air changed.
People froze. As if they understood the lyrics, spoiler alert, no one did but they felt all sentimental anyway.
Children stopped running. Merchants stopped selling. The mana in the plaza stilled like the whole town inhaled at once.
By the time I hit the chorus— "Near… far… wherever you are…"
—elderly citizens were openly sobbing. Literal grown warriors with scars on their faces were wiping tears. A dwarf collapsed dramatically into his wife's arms.
Even the king's eyes were shimmering—THE KING.
