For weeks, the dry season had shown no mercy, its relentless grip leaving the land once again cracked and thirsty beneath the unyielding sun. The slightest breeze sent plumes of dust dancing into the air, a reminder that the rains were still months away. Yet today, despite the lean times, the centre of Sagyo brimmed with life, its heartbeat louder than ever.
The villagers were preparing for the Festival of Spirits. This tradition had endured for hundreds of years, dating back to when the Central Plains was part of the Gin Empire. Each year, on the second full moon of the dry season, villages, towns, and the capital alike erected pavilions for the celebrations. People gathered to offer food, play music, and perform ritual dances to appease the spirits, ensuring luck and prosperity for the devotees.
The three most revered spirits, known as the Supreme Spirits, were Spirit of Love and Marriage, Spirit of Prosperity, and Spirit of War. Spirit of Love and Marriage had long ruled the Spirit Realm, sustained by unwavering devotion across generations. The second rank, however, was ever-changing; when war raged, Spirit of War ascended, but in peaceful times, Spirit of Prosperity took precedence.
Yet they were not alone. Spirits existed for all things, both great and small, some famous, others known only within small communities. Scholars whispered prayers to Spirit of Books, while farmers offered thanks to Spirit of Water. Whatever one could think of, name it, and there was a spirit for it.
Since peace had endured for decades in the Kingdom of Arkar, the devotees of Spirit of Prosperity began to outnumber those of Spirit of War. People believed his divine grace watched over the mortal realm with benevolent eyes, bestowing fortune, success, and abundance upon those who honoured him.
However, in small northern villages like this one, people prayed to Spirit of Harvest and various local spirits. They had no hunger for fortune or fame; Only a wish for simple, uncomplicated lives.
Over the course of the day, the activity in Sagyo became intense: musicians set up their instruments, organisers ran around making final adjustments to the spirit shrine, and others prepared ritual offerings. Those who weren't setting up were choosing their clothes, and readying themselves for the festival.
Sein was entirely unaware of the time of year and had been oblivious to the activities in the village. She'd been solely focusing on ensuring all the prayers had been dealt with.
What's up with people?Why's everyone wishing their clothes look good today?
When she stuck her head outside the little house, even Chit was dressed in her best, with rosy cheeks and hair tied into a pony knot.
"Sein, why aren't you dressed yet?" Chit waved to her. "The festival is starting soon. Quick or we won't get a good seat. Everyone's already there."
Sein paused, her gaze drifted towards the distant hum of festivity.
Which celebration was this? she wondered.
The calendar was packed with them, each marking its own season, traditions and beliefs. It was something she rarely spared much thought on. Without hesitation, Sein summoned her cloth power, envisioning herself in attire that blended seamlessly with local fashion. In an instant, she was ready, her garments neat yet fitting for the occasion, her hair left unrestrained.
Stepping lightly onto the porch, she found Chit waiting.
"You always look nice," Chit remarked, offering a hand.
Sein took it with a smile.
"You look lovely too."
Together, they strolled towards the village centre. Even before the festival tent came into view, the unmistakable music reached them: a hypnotic fusion of pulsating drums and gongs, interwoven with the wailing melodies of a wind instrument. A shiver ran down Sein's spine, goosebumps visible on her skin.
I know that music. It's the Festival of Spirits.
***
As dusk settled over the capital, the city stirred with renewed vitality. Lanterns flickered along the main streets, their soft glow weaving golden ribbons through the shifting throng of people. Excitement crackled in the air as friends strolled arm in arm, couples walked hand in hand, and families soaked in the lively atmosphere.
Many pavilions dotted the thoroughfare, though temporary, they were grand enough to accommodate a crowd. From each, catchy tunes blared into the streets, striving to outdo one another. The melodies clashed and intertwined in a musical battle, competing to lure devotees into the heart of the sumptuous Festival of Spirits.
Sein had never been to a public event like this, but after hearing her cousin Htay's enthusiastic accounts, she couldn't help but feel eager to see it for herself. Htay's wife was the daughter of a wealthy merchant, whose family frequently sponsored such celebrations. Rather than attending with her relatives, Sein turned to Zeya. He agreed without hesitation and once again, Saw Win found himself orchestrating the necessary arrangements for their escape from family obligations.
It struck Sein as ironic that she and Zeya had deliberately dressed down, while the people around them shimmered in their most elaborate attire. Women flaunted their wealth with exquisite jewels pinned into their hair, the sheer size of the gems announcing their status before they even spoke.
Men, not to be outdone, strutted in traditional jackets of woven silks, their sashes rich with elaborate detail, their hands heavy with gold rings studded with diamonds—walking displays of privilege and power. Many carried large purses full of gold coins for donating generously. This was a wealthy district, known as Dao Lin, where many of the families had built their fortune through trade and commerce.
"You have stuffed too much gold in your purse, it is likely to burst," a young man jested at his friend who was obviously weighed down by the woven bag he carried in his arm, cradling it like a baby.
The friend retorted, "Ah, I see you have far too many diamond rings, perhaps you should wear some on your toes to display your full collection."
An older woman with the group spoke up, "Gentlemen, really, your mutual admiration for each other's fortunes is riveting but could we move along? Some of us might turn to dust waiting for you to finish patting each other on the back."
She indicated to a pavilion near by. Her three companions, all immaculately dressed women, laughed freely.
Sein and Zeya walked around this group as they continued to follow the flow of people, immersed in each other. Their pace was easy and unhurried. Without realising it, they had fallen in step with a family, mainly women of different generations, despite not knowing them.
As the group paused in front of a pavilion, Sein and Zeya were forced to stop as well, unable to move through the tightly packed crowd. It seemed the matriarch of the family made the decision to enter, and the rest followed. Before they knew it, Sein and Zeya were swept in with the tide.
Sein glanced up at the elaborate signage above the pavilion which read, 'Spirit of Love and Marriage.'
I definitely need help in that department according to my cosmic forecast!
She giggled which caught the attention of two middle-aged ladies, one tall and slender with greying hair tied into a top bun; the other was petite and dainty, dressed in all red, with kind eyes.
Noticing that Sein wasn't part of their family, the tall lady said, "Oh, hello, dear."
Seeing the young lady with fair complexion and delicate features, smiling in return, the lady continued, "You must be from a prominent household. Ah… is this your husband?"
She gestured towards Zeya who was standing behind Sein.
Sein looked blankly for a moment before hearing Zeya reply, "Yes Auntie, I am her husband."
The tall lady studied the young handsome man and nodded in approval to herself.
"Shall we go?" Zeya asked discreetly.
He tugged Sein's sleeves and turned to leave but was blocked by others coming in.
"Come now, no need for shyness!" the lady with kind eyes spoke up. "Newlyweds, I see? So young and full of life. Step forward for a blessing. An extra bit of luck never hurt anyone when it comes to ensuring a lifetime of marital bliss!"
The tall lady ushered them inside, saying, "Oh what a good looking couple. You will no doubt be blessed with many sons."
Sein glanced over her shoulder at Zeya and silently mouthed, "Husband?"
Zeya leaned in close and said quietly, "Being out together without being married doesn't exactly reflect well. We clearly don't resemble brother and sister."
This was true enough. Women of a certain age from prestigious families who were unmarried were always accompanied by a family member at public social occasions like this. Sein hadn't given much thought to the matter before, but now that she considered it, she had always been escorted by her brothers or cousins when she was younger. Since she had never ventured out in the capital on her own, she hadn't encountered this issue before.
Zeya was also right that they couldn't pass for siblings, as their features were distinctly different. He had dark hair and pale eyes, inherited from his mother's Northern ancestry. She had lighter hair and dark eyes, typical of the Central Plains populace.
Sein thought back to the times she and Zeya visited the spirit medium or dined at the food stalls. No wonder people assumed they were married. The thought made her blush.
But surely Zeya could be considered family, though not by blood. Sein's father was the brother of Zeya's uncle-in-law, making them cousins-in-law. Why would it be frowned upon for him to escort her? Why pretend to be husband and wife?
Sein pushed the thought to the back of her mind as the wood idiophone rang out. Its deep, mellow sound vibrated through the air, capturing the audience's attention.
After a momentary pause, a melancholy voice sang the tale of Spirit of Love and Marriage, who lost his beloved and embarked on a tragic journey to be reunited with her.
All eyes turned to the singer, dressed in a traditional long skirt, a bodice that accentuated her figure, and a tight fitted cropped jacket. A blood-red sash was tied around her waist, and her hair was gathered in a top knot. Red and yellow flowers were pinned to one side, cascading like a waterfall to her ear. Her voice glided through the melody, weaving through each note with a soft, soothing rhythm. As the audience fell silent in rapt attention, Sein let her gaze drift across her surroundings.
The pavilion they had entered was lavishly decorated. Silk drapes in deep scarlet, representing passion and love, created a striking backdrop that commanded attention, drawing her eyes towards the spirit altar. An intricately carved, almost life-sized image of Spirit of Love and Marriage sat cross-legged, one hand holding a flower while the other clutched a fan. The face was pleasing, with a sharp chin and graceful eyes. Abundance of red and white flowers, woven together, hung around the statue like a giant necklace. The altar was crowded with offerings of bananas, green coconuts and mangoes, beautifully arranged on golden platters.
"Shall we sit here?"
Zeya gestured towards the back of the main circle of devotees. Too late, the two ladies had already pushed Sein forward, and Zeya followed. They soon found themselves at the front, seated on a bamboo mat with the women, overlooking the ritual space.
The sweet scent of jasmine, mingled with the heady wood notes of burning incense, filled the air, overwhelming their senses. The closely packed seating area was stuffy, bodies pressed tightly together, yet no one seemed to mind. A restless buzz swept through the crowd, fuelled by anticipation and joy.
As the singer reached the final verse, the devotees joined in, following the well-known lyrics and swaying side to side. Sein was pushed against Zeya, and to her surprise, she felt his arm circle around her shoulders, shielding her from the jostling audience. His touch, so unexpected and so attentive, sent a surge of delight through her.
Drums, cymbals, and gongs blazed through the air with a fierce, vibrant energy, drawing Sein's attention to the musicians. The tune stirred powerful emotions, raising goosebumps along her arms and making her shiver involuntarily.
At that moment, a dancer emerged, extravagantly dressed in a glittering gold costume, reminiscent of royal princes from ancient times. An embroidered golden sash was cinched around his waist to an unnatural width. His face was heavily caked in makeup, and he held a decorative fan in one hand and a single red flower in the other. His head was adorned with a jewelled crown. He was the Spirit Dancer.
Encouraged by the loud shouts and clapping, the Spirit Dancer moved fluidly, raising his arms and twisting his hands in controlled movements, inviting Spirit of Love and Marriage to embody him. After completing three loops around the ritual space, his fluid steps transformed into sharp, angular motions, a clear sign that the divine spirit had taken hold. With each step, his energy surged, matching the tempo of the music. Then, as the rhythm peaked, twinkling bells chimed, their echoes dissolving into silence.
Now fully embodied, the Spirit Dancer moved with purpose, pausing in front of a pretty woman.
With a smile, he said, "One could search the kingdom over, but I suspect no treasure would rival the brilliance of your smile."
Next, he approached a distinguished man with greying temples and remarked, "How utterly unfair that one man can possess such grace and allure. Will you not share your secret?"
Sein, overhearing this, cringed inwardly as Spirit of Love and Marriage continued to shower random people with his extravagant compliments, clearly working the crowd.
Finally, he sought out a slender older man with unfortunate features, which made him appear owl-like. This man was the Ceremony Lord, a sponsor of the pavilion.
The Spirit Dancer beckoned to him and he gladly took the dancer's outstretched hand, stepping inside the ritual space. Two others, clearly part of the Ceremony Lord's family, judging by their owl-like features, were also invited. Together, they danced, swaying to the music, completely oblivious to their surroundings.
Scanning the audience once more, the Spirit Dancer signalled to a young couple seated nearby. They jumped up, feeling privileged to be called upon. He circled them three times, chanting under his breath, showering them with blessings and fanning the flames of love.
"You two," the tall lady next to Zeya encouraged. "Go up for a blessing."
The lady with kind eyes waved to the Spirit Dancer saying, "My Lord, this young couple requires your blessing."
Sein shook her head to decline but the Spirit Dancer fixed his eyes on her, and began heading over, his slender hand out-stretched. His finger motioned for her to come forward. She was alarmed and wished she could just perish on the spot.
The Spirit Dancer extended his other hand to Zeya and the couple were tugged into the ritual space. Sein hoped no one recognised the Crown Prince and she sincerely hoped her cousin wasn't in the pavilion. Worst still, were they committing some kind of misdemeanour being blessed when they were actually not married.
It was too late for such thoughts as they were manhandled into position, facing each other, holding hands, and lightly touching foreheads. Sein dared not look at Zeya, feeling her face grow hot and her heart race. She'd never been in such an intimate position with another man, let alone with the Crown Prince.
As Zeya's hands held hers gently but firmly, she could sense his steady breathing. She caught the light scent of bergamot citrus mixed with notes of lavender. He smelled good.
The Spirit Dancer proceeded to tie a red silk braided cord around their wrists, chanting softly under his breath. A contented expression settled on his face, though his eyes remained distant. He snapped the fan shut and lightly tapped their hands with it three times.
"You are now bound together for all eternity," intoned the Spirit Dancer, each word slow and deliberate. "May this union give you the strength to conquer any trials ahead, creating a connection that defies time. May you find joy and harmony in the bliss of marriage."
Sein could hardly breathe hearing those words. She listened intently as he murmured softly in some ancient language she couldn't understand, his gaze distant.
Then, like the flick of a whip, his eyes seemed to sharpen as he focused on the couple standing before him. Seeing their hands tied together, he carefully unraveled the cord, loosening it.
Once they were released, Sein rushed back to the ring of audience.
She muttered to herself, "I hope Htay didn't see that."
She glanced back at Zeya, who was still holding her hand.
He leaned in and said confidently, "Don't be worried. I'm certain no one recognised us."
Sein felt reassured by Zeya's words and, now safely seated on the mat, released a breath she hadn't realised she was holding. She was grateful to be on the opposite side of the circle, far from the two ladies who had thrust them into the blessing. Instead, she now found herself surrounded by a group of young women, their smiles bright as they exchanged hushed words.
"He's so gorgeous," one of the woman sniggered. "She's lucky to be with him."
"I love his pale eyes," another spoke up. "I won't mind waking up to those every morning."
One nearest to Sein murmured, "I'll marry him even if he has no fortune. I wonder how she managed to catch him. Look at him, he's totally fallen for her."
They snuck glances at Zeya, giggling, high on the drug of desire.
Sein overheard their chatter and laughed inwardly at their assumptions.
If only that was the case, she thought, as she gazed at Zeya.
He sensed her and turned to meet her eyes. They stared at each other for a long while, oblivious to the drumming and the change in music. Sein saw the dark pupils of his eyes growing wider, drawing her into their depths, until she was fully immersed.
The singer reappeared, her voice accompanied by the bright, piercing tones of a woodwind instrument. The audience erupted in applause, sensing the shift; this was the moment to let loose. Drinks flowed, snacks were passed around, and the celebrations surged into full bloom.
Despite the growing clamour surrounding them, Sein's eyes remained fixed on Zeya. An overwhelming sense of love for this man swelled within her, like a great wave rising just before it breaks. It caught her off guard, sudden and inescapable. There was no way to resist its pull. She knew at once that loving him would drag her beneath the surface, and very likely be her undoing. Even so, as the warning flashed through her mind, she found herself wanting to ride the wave just a little while longer.
"Here's a drink for you," someone called out. A hand tapped on Sein's shoulder, snapping her out of her daze.
"And one for you."
She heard the man say to Zeya, and only then realised she was holding a glass she must've taken without thinking. Her throat was excessively parched, and grateful for the drink, she knocked it back. But the cool, clear liquid didn't quench her thirst; instead, it burned a little in her throat. She lightly coughed and saw Zeya sniff at his cup. Immediately, he grabbed her hand to pull the cup away, but it was empty.
"It smells like strong liquor. Did you drink it all?"
The alcohol scorched her empty stomach, and before she could speak, her head felt curiously airy and woolly. Her eyes glazed over for a moment and she heard Zeya ask, "How are you feeling?"
She wanted to say fine, but that would be a lie.
"Sein, are you alright?"
Without waiting for a response, he rose to his feet, gently taking her arm and supporting her with a firm hand on her back.
"Shall we leave?"
A few older onlookers shot them disapproving glances, while others clicked their tongues in objection to their sudden departure amid the lively celebrations.
Outside the pavilion, the night air was refreshingly cool but the streets were still flooded with festival goers.
"Come, let's head away from this crowd," Zeya said, leading the way, holding Sein's arm to steady her. "I'm taking you back."
The narrow lane they entered ran between rows of modest houses, their back doors opening directly onto the street. Bathed only in the pale light of the full moon, the path felt eerily quiet. As they moved forward, scattering a few stray cats into the darkness, Sein felt the cool breeze refresh her, clearing the dizziness from her mind. The alcohol's effects seemed to dissipate, and she regained her liveliness, her senses sharper with each step.
"Wait wait wait," Sein protested. "But it's still early. Can't we go to another pavilion?"
Sensing Zeya observing her, she continued in a playful tone, "Come on, Zeya. The night is still young. Let's live a little."
Zeya stopped abruptly and turned to face her, his pale eyes searching hers with an unreadable gaze.
When he spoke, his voice was quiet, measured. "True enough, the night may be young. Unfortunately you're in no state to continue. I'm taking you home."
Sein lowered her head, resting her forehead against his shoulder as disappointment settled in.
Her eyes fluttered shut, and with a pout, she murmured, "You're no fun at all, Zeya!"
"I must apologise for being no fun. But you, I'm afraid, are quite clearly drunk," Zeya sighed.
Sein glanced up at him, ready to argue her case. Before she could say a word, he wrapped his arm around her back and the other under her knees, and scooped her up.
Taken by surprise, Sein demanded, "Put me down. What're you doing?"
"Well, I thought I'd carry you," Zeya stated.
He walked with careful steps, holding Sein firmly as she tried to wiggle free. It was a half-hearted protest as the closeness to him brought a sense of comfort to her.
An approaching couple hesitated, their steps faltering as they took in the sight before them, uncertainty written across their faces.
Zeya immediately piped up, "All is well. My wife has fallen ill. I am taking her home."
They seemed happy with the explanation and continued on their way.
Wife, that wouldn't be so bad. It was a long-suppressed desire Sein hadn't dared to acknowledge until this moment, then she stopped herself. What am I thinking? Get a hold of yourself!
Bathed in the silver glow of moonlight, Zeya stood poised and refined. Sein felt the strength of his arms, his firm body pressing against hers.
The alcohol lent her courage, and before she could stop herself, she looped her arms around his neck and teasingly said, "Fine, husband. Take me home."
His eyebrow lifted in response, and in the dim light, she caught a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
After some time, Sein spoke up, "Seriously, you can't carry me all the way back."
Her head rested on his shoulder, wishing this moment would never end.
"Do you think I'm not capable of it?"
"I think you're plenty strong enough. What if someone from the palace sees you carrying me?"
"So they'll see me carrying you. Relax," Zeya said. He let out a cheeky chuckle. "This can count as part of my strength training."
That night, Sein drifted to sleep, a soft warmth weaving through her heart. The delicate threads of love stitched together a sense of completeness, bringing wholeness where once there had been emptiness. But her brain interrupted the bliss.
You're being foolish.You can never be his wife.Zeya will be married to Princess Nanda next year.
There was no future for them. For the remainder of the night, an unsettling feeling churned in her stomach causing her to toss and turn endlessly. She was sinking beneath the surface, the wave crashing over her again and again, drawing her into its cold embrace until sleep finally claimed her.