ACT I—RED

The market buzzed like a hornet’s nest, chattering voices ricocheting between every stall. Every corner and turn echoed with words like “jewel,” “wish,” and “war.” Even between the merchants, distracted and focused on the rumors that were spreading. It seemed like news spread fast.

Razz sat perched atop of their decorated wagon, legs swinging, humming tunelessly. Their gaze was looking at any movement. Primarily, they were watching for the pesky mercs that had more brawn than brains, not because of their scams this time, but that might assume they’re one from the sky. They considered heading up to the skies again. They had enough money to spend. The lower skies were closer, so it’d be even faster than usual. Although, they wondered if their usual ride would sneak them up in these times…

It was annoying, yet thrilling.

However, a part of them was interested in the frantic actions of the citizens. Their hasty gossips, their desires evident as they spoke of rumors and lies.

“They say it’s back, y’know? The jewel,” a merchant whispered behind cupped hands.

Another whispered. “Could remake the entire world.”

Razz giggled—a soft, practiced sound. “A ’World remake’ sells now? Sounds like a bargain.”

Nobody laughed. Nobody even looked their way. That suited them fine.

They chewed on a stolen dried fruit chip and kicked their legs. Numbers spun in their head. The prices of information in this time, the rate of mercenaries to deal with the dirty work, how many crowns they could charge for a wish-granting gem. There were buyers for sure. The Queen of the Red Seas would give the entire treasury, they bet. The Royal Council would silence any seller. Then there were the collectors, the ones who had their own wishes, and the lowly ones who wanted to move up in the world.

Lowly ones…

“Maybe I’ll sell it to the highest bidder,” Razz hummed to themselves. They snickered as they imagined the crowd at their humble little circus wagon—The begs, the pleas! And most importantly—The money!

“Maybe I’ll sell it to the lowest bidder. Imagine the scandal!”

…They fled as a rough-looking group of mercenaries entered the marketplace.

ACT II—VIOLET

The wagon wasn’t much. While decorated head to toe in colorful flourish that one would assume it was a clown car, quality-wise, not that good. Yet, it held Razz’s precious hoard—maps, journals, scholarly works disguised as storybooks, storybooks disguised as scholarly works. There were dozens of both fake and real jewels in every hue, tucked in pouches and jars. Random trinkets, gadgets, a mix-matched mixture of both sat in the corners, the crevices, anywhere it could sit. Scribbled notes and memos lined the walls, reminding Razz of every detail.

Knowledge is power, after all, and knowledge sells for a lot.

Razz plopped onto a cushion and tossed their newest fake gem into the air. The violet glass spun, caught light, and glistened. They were particular about this one, even cutting their travel and by proxy sales short by focusing on making it look amazing. It had to look perfect to trick someone. Though then again, they’re sure they could’ve tricked a idiotic fool with a poorly made one too.

They grinned, catching it in their hand. “You’re the prettiest lie I’ve seen all week.”

A half-torn page sat on their lap. A scholar’s theory: “I believe the jewel does not grant wishes. It grants re-creation. The world as one desires.”

A chuckle.

A wish wasn’t something you sold. But a new world? That was a different currency altogether.

ACT III—BLUE

Long ago, they’d worn no bow.

They remembered the stares. Too blue, too sparkly, too… Sky-like. Even though they were a marine animal all the same, they’d been called a spy, a mistake, a thing.

It was hard, but manageable. While most would say a life of crime so early was horrible, they had been optimistic throughout it all. Their parent’s abandonment gave them more freedom. When first caught stealing, they simply improved their hiding skills. Every failure—It was just a minor inconvenience to their greater plan.

And every coin was another step closer to a better life.

…

They’d thought the Blue Skies would be different. A place of freedom, of air and dreams. The Blue Skies were benevolent, good, unlike the scoundrels of the Red Seas, who suffered mistreatment from their own people. It wasn’t personal. It was never personal.

But up there, they’d been a monster. Filth from below. As if any marine animal would be born in the skies. Those people questioned them endlessly, asking what schemes they had there, treating them as if they were nothing more than a low, foul creature that had to be kicked out.

Even just one glimpse of their red eyes had startled a few.

They returned to the Seas. They spent all their money just to get to the sky for nothing. The bow came after. A lie they tied every morning, just tight enough to breathe. They weren’t sure what compelled them to do so. It did nothing for them to convince Reds of their origin and Blues were the same with or without it. Yet, they wore it every day, even though it looked strange. Perhaps it was to seem more patriotic.

They turned the fake gem over in their hand. They stared up at the jewel as if it was the real one in the tale. If they had the chance… Just what would they wish for? At first, they imagined towers of gold, feasts, palaces that floated and welcomed all. Riches that could buy smiles instead of sneers. No more hiding, no more begging, and no more stupid bow.

But the longer they stared, the less satisfying that dream became.

ACT IV—BLACK

Razz leaned back before laying against the cushions, the fake jewel held above them. It caught the flickering lantern light and scattered it across the colorful ceiling in chaotic patterns. Oh, how the light shined against every color, their differences beautiful—but all put together the same.

“I wanted to belong so badly,” they whispered to themselves mindlessly. “I did everything to find a place that would accept me. Because… Because…” The words faltered. The breath caught. They blinked rapidly, as if trying to remember something important, something buried.

“I laughed when they mocked me. I smiled when they shut doors in my face. I gave and gave and gave until there was nothing left but… this.” Their fingers clenched around the glass. It bit into their skin, harmlessly. “I tried to be one of them. Both of them. I wanted to wear their smiles, speak their tongue, trade in their markets, dream their dreams. But no matter what I did…”

They sat up slowly, the shadows on the wall lengthening with them.

“They never saw me as one of their own. Only a joke. An intruder. A freak in a ribbon.”

They thought of the Queen, the Royal Council, the mercs with battered morals. The blood-soaked history no one spoke of. The Seas raged, and the Skies remained ignorant of their suffering. There was a flaw with this world. Plain and simple.

“They all want to use it. To rewrite their half of the story. To paint their side brighter.”

They turned the jewel in their palm. Slowly, like turning a key.

“I don’t want halves. I don’t want either.”

The air inside the wagon pulsed with heat and silence. Even the lantern light seemed to dim.

“Let the seas sink, the skies fall, the stars burn out.”

Their voice was calm. But their eyes, barely visible beneath the fringe, gleamed with something else now. Not sorrow, not longing. Something sharp, something Free. They pressed the glass to their chest and tilted their head back, a slow smile creeping across their face.

“What would I wish for…? I don’t want riches anymore. I want erasure.” They laughed, sharp and jagged, like glass shattering in a quiet room. They sat up suddenly, eyes wide, the fake jewel clutched to their heart. There was a flaw with this world. Plain. And. simple.

They laid back again, arms sprawled.

They closed their eyes and laughed until the wagon shook.

“Let them chase shadows. Let them bleed for a lie. I’ll find the real one... before they even know it’s missing.“

“I won’t inherit this broken world. I’ll bury it—and build something honest from the rubble. A world where there’s no sides, and no one would ever know they were different.”