Deep within the heart of the palace at the top of the world, deep within the endless mist, there was a treasure room.

 

It belonged to the man who ruled the world, and she was his daughter—a knife scintillating across a room of marble, gliding through the palace halls in the middle of the night, a thief in the veil of the moon.

 

There were so many ruthless people in the world, so many people who stop at nothing to steal and hoard, and she hated these people. She hated them so much that she wanted to leave them all behind.

 

So, she walked up to the doors to the treasure room. They parted softly under her touch, a veil of mist letting go. She walked on with the quiet certainty of someone who knew she belonged.

 

She had been here many times before, but tonight, something in the air was different. Up the steps with the threaded silver carpeting, a fleeting glint caught her eye: a silhouette, barely there, a shadow cast by the light streaming into the room. Tonight, she was not alone. At the far corner of the marble chamber, there was a man, standing with his back to the window.

 

She stepped forward, her heels clicking sharply against the tiles. Their eyes met in the space in between the mist and the moon.

 

The man held still, his gaze tracing her every movement with a wary, sharp tension. Yet underneath, something flickered. He exhaled slowly, almost daring. "Are you going to report me?" he asked.

 

The piles upon piles of riches shimmered in rivulets down the shelves; silver and blue. "No," she responded. "Not while I am here to do the same as you." 

 

He watched as she picked up a sapphire near the edge of her heels. "You are the princess of the kingdom," he stated.

 

"Yes," she agreed. There was a line running down the middle of the jewel. "Does that bother you?"

 

A faint smile cracked at the corners of the man's mouth. "You know what?" he said. "No."

 

The moonlight spilled across the room, painting everything in shades of cool hues. She turned the sapphire in her hand, tracing the story written in its fractured surface. She had known these halls all her life, the riches they held, and the weight of expectation that came with them. Tonight, she felt something new, something different; a quiet defiance, an urge to bend the rules that had bound her for so long.

 

Tonight, she felt impulsive under the light of the moon. Upon the marble tiles of the treasure room, she extended an invitation.

 

She moved closer, her voice low, almost conspiratorial. "Tell me, then," she said softly. "What secrets do you hold?"

 

The man's smile grew wider. "I will, if you tell me one of your own."

 

She smiled back, the grin of a person sharing a knife-sharp truth. "I am the princess of the kingdom," she parroted in a low tone.

 

"I am the son of a fallen angel," the man whispered in return.

 

"So you have made a deal with the devil."

 

"Yes I have," he said. "I'm going to borrow his finest treasures."

 

She stepped toward him, over the blemished jewels tipping over in an unfeeling sea of blue across the floor. "In that case," she responded, soft and clear like moonlight falling through mist, "let me show you his hidden trove."

 

She moved with the grace of someone born into wealth yet untouched by its allure, not after she had learned the true price of such riches. The jewels crunched beneath her heels, tiny fragile lives extinguished underfoot. In this world of gleaming wealth and hollow light, she was the only thing that pulsed with living purpose.

 

He followed, drawn by the quiet power of her words. The moon, pale and distant, draped her in light as she led him deeper into the treasure room. Their steps echoed faintly, the night holding its breath as if even the shadows dared not intrude.

 

At the far end of the room, hidden behind crumbling piles of tapestry so old they belonged to the time before time, was a small, rusty chest, forgotten by the world. She paused before it, turning to him, her eyes gleaming like distant stars through the mist.

 

"This is where my father locked away his heart," she said, the faintest smile on her lips. 

 

She straightened, stepping aside to let him see.

 

"Everything he held dear," she said softly, "and now, it can be ours."

 

With practiced ease, she knelt and opened the chest. Inside were treasures far more precious than the scattered jewels that littered the floor, pieces that pulsed with the weight of their history. She sifted through the artifacts until her fingers found a necklace, its jewels glittering blood-red even in the dim light.

 

She held it up, letting it dangle from her fingertips, the light dancing in its depths. "I think this would look gorgeous on you."

 

Kneeling down, the man reached into the chest himself. He fished out an encrusted dagger, its hilt wrapped in gold, honed for purposes long forgotten. 

 

He turned it over in his hand, and offered it to her with a grin bordering on mischievous. "I think this would suit you too."

 

They shared a glance and then they laughed—soft and low, conspirators in the moonlit night. She stepped closer, draping the necklace over his neck, the red jewels resting against his chest like a crimson stain. He slid the dagger into her waiting hand, the weight of it solid, familiar.

 

"I suppose this makes us thieves," the man said once the exchange was complete, the weight of the treasures hanging between them like a secret.

 

"Oh no," she replied, her smile a soft, knowing thing. "You're right. What do we do now?"

 

"We could run away together. Escape from here."

 

"Good idea. After all, we are now wanted criminals."

 

"Mmhm."

 

The two of them gazed at each other, trailing the outlines of stolen treasures that adorned them like wisps of freedom, whispering of the shimmering vestiges of a happily-ever-after.

 

She remembered a devil who had ruled over the world, and she smiled, because she was finally free of that man. He remembered a fallen angel who had blinded him with her light, and he smiled, because he was finally free of that woman too.

 

"Look up and out the window," she said, her voice soft in the mist. "Don't you see? It's a blue moon."

 

He followed her gaze, and there it was—a miracle of the night, glowing with an impossible hue. With a slight shift of her weight, she took his hand in hers, light as a promise.

 

And together, the two of them danced merrily out of the treasure room.