THE THIRD REALM: YELLOW — Do not forget yourself

One night, she dreamed of Ernesto.

He was there, on the other side of a mist. Skyblue recognized him and ran toward him, but however far she went, she never seemed to get any closer. Her friend was trying to speak to her. She had always understood him without words; now she couldn’t understand him even when she heard his voice.

At last, she made out a few words:

“Don’t forget me. Don’t forget yourself.”

She woke crying.

For a few moments, she didn’t know where she was. She felt the cold stones of her shelter and saw the glow of the torch. It had been so long since she thought of Ernesto that she struggled to recall the shape of his branches, the scent of his mangoes, the peace of his shade.

She called to him several times.

No answer came. Or she couldn’t feel it.

Then she became aware of everything she had spent days avoiding: hunger, cold, loneliness, fear. She had built a fortress to protect her power, and there wasn’t a single place inside it where she could rest.

She pressed a paw to her chest, reaching for Helio. Something very faint answered, like a tiny flame sheltered among ashes.

“Remember your center.”

Her blue family’s words returned with painful clarity. Then, in her memory, she heard Helio’s warning: “Look after your flame and your innocence.”

She looked at the torch. She had trusted its size more than the life within her. Every time the stolen fire grew, Skyblue felt less able to exist without it.

She had begun by defending herself. Now she roamed the realm looking for someone to take something from.

“I’ve become the very thing I despised,” she whispered.

She was ashamed. Helio had offered to help, but how could she ask after ignoring every warning?

‘I got myself into this. I’ll have to get myself out,’ she decided.

She promised herself she would never use the torch against anyone again. She no longer knew how much control she had over it and was afraid of doing still more harm. She gathered her things, opened the shelter’s narrow entrance, and went out.

For the first time, she looked at it from outside. It was imposing, dark, and threatening. Not a single detail suggested a home. She had built it to suit herself, yet she could hardly recognize herself in it.

She thought of Ernesto, his generous crown, the way he lowered a branch to welcome her. She closed her eyes and breathed. The little flame in her chest was still there.

She kept her attention on it until a warm current flowed through her body. Then she thanked the shelter for the protection it had given her.

She couldn’t bring herself to ask for her parents’ blessing. Nor for Ernesto’s embrace. She remembered all the things she had blamed them for and told herself she had no right to call on them now that she needed something.

Another voice answered that she had no reason to feel bad: none of them had heard her thoughts, and they need never know.

Skyblue listened to the argument inside her. One voice condemned her; the other made excuses. She let them talk for a moment, as though watching two strangers, and felt the warmth in her chest again.