Rivers of scarlet overflowed the blossoming morning sky. The faint sunlight waltzed with wisps of clouds. The young Song prince drew in a sharp breath, and ancient words of promise streamed out. Time was limited, as the ritual was at daybreak the next day. Like a foreign language, the text was unfamiliar and new. He tried to concentrate on the meaning and depth behind each phrase, each pause. 

As he stood still, eyes shut tightly, behind a cluster of lush green trees, the songbirds eyed him. They harmonized as if rehearsing for an important, crucial concert. In hushed tones, they sang a melody of old, the chorus repeating. The prince’s eyes wandered around, unable to stay on the parchment in his hands. He admired the poppies blooming in a patch of sunlight ahead. 

“Furthermore, I vow to be pre-” The songbirds rang in a choir above him, cutting his sentence off. He glanced up, wrinkles woven in his brow. He tried again. And again, the birds’ chirping interrupted. From the beginning. Again. But the temporary attention was now gone, and he couldn’t grasp it back.

The prince’s mind was somewhere else, and he was not ready for the challenge awaiting him the next day. Twilight was approaching, the sun sinking beneath the misty mountains. Streaks of darkening magenta bled through the sky, and the tired prince retired to bed. 

The young Song prince stood pacing, a distracted look clouding his face. In the daylight peaking through the trees, his wrinkled silk cloak reflected sun rays. Like a relentless sea, his mousy brown hair was tousled and shot out from different directions. Drooping bags dragged down his hazel eyes, as if carrying a hundred pounds. Breathing deeply, he tried to mutter the coronation chant to himself one more time, his voice stumbling over the poetic phrases. The morning songbirds tittered in the trees, gossiping. 

Son, it is time. Concentrate, and stay in the moment. With a quick nod, the prince slouched to a spot of sunlight, and it caught on him like the beam of a flashlight. The elderly king’s eyes crinkled with worry as he sat down on the golden throne. Vivid bushes of roses surrounded the royal court, and the people of the kingdom were gradually filling in behind. Prince Cadence stood, trying to review the phrases in his mind, but he found himself unable to memorize them clearly. Anguished, a deep line grew on his forehead, waiting for the cue. A nod from the court minister. It was time. 

“I, Prince Cadence of Song, promise to handle my position of royalty with humility and kindness, as well as to always seek the greatest well being for the people of this kingdom. I vow to be honest, respectful, and courageous in times of trouble. Furthermore, I vow to always be prepar-” 

As if on cue, the songbirds erupted in a proud chant. Prince Cadence’s eyes widened in realization of his fumble. Shaken, his lips moved but no sound came out. The people held their breath, bracing themselves for the worst. Not one prince in the history of Song had made a mistake in a coronation oath before. But they had grown up hearing threatening tales of the horrors the prince would fall to if it did occur. The Prince, still under the break of dawn, froze. A gray stone crept up his feet and slowly his legs transformed into rock. He tried to scream, but the sound crystallized in his throat. His eyes glazed over. Now a statue, Prince Cadence stood still.