On an ordinary day, the village of Sagyo hummed with a familiar rhythm: mornings were bustling with activity, while afternoons were reserved for retreating indoors during the hottest hours, napping, or relaxing in the shade. These idle hours were spent catching up on news and strengthening family bonds.
As evening fell, the village centre came alive once more, with neighbours mingling and children playing together. It was a lively and vibrant community.
Today, however, the village followed a different tempo. The sun had just crested the mountains, its rays bathing the rooftops in gold and amber light. With the wet season drawing to a close, the rice paddies glimmered with a sheet of water, reflecting the clear sky.
A steady stream of people made their way towards the village square, where a pavilion had been set up between two ancient camphor trees.
The men cut sharp figures in crisp white shirts tucked into slim, tailored trousers, while women glided gracefully in ankle-length skirts, paired with delicate silk blouses trimmed with lace or embroidery, their hair swept up and pinned with fresh flowers.
By mid-morning, a crowd had gathered, waiting with anticipation for the start of the Harvest Festival.
Sein paused by the main road and observed a group of passerby. There appeared to be a family with two adults and three children, followed by a large band of young people.
While the children eagerly anticipated the feast and the special sweet treats on offer, the adults were more focused on how they compared with their neighbours.
Had they brought enough donations? Had they dressed appropriately to show off their wealth and status?
The young people, on the other hand, were carefree and full of zest for life. They chatted and joked with each other. However, trailing behind this group was a solitary figure, a girl of about thirteen, walking quietly on her own.
Sein was instinctively drawn to the lone girl, understanding all too well the chill of isolation that numbs the soul.
The lone girl, in contrast to the others, wore old, tatty clothes that were too small for her, revealing a great deal of her skinny legs.
Around this awkward age, girls typically transition to wearing long skirts that covered their calves and ankles.
Those who failed to conform to societal expectations of modest clothing, were not only frowned upon but also unfairly labelled as unrefined or, worse still, presumed to lack virtue or morality.
The lone girl was lost in her own thoughts as she ambled along, head downcast. Abruptly, she paused as she was passing Sein and turned towards her. She raised her gaze, dark eyes squinting against the glare of harsh sunlight, searching for something unseen. Finding nothing, she let out a soft breath and moved on.
A long-forgotten sensation awakened in Sein. Filled with compassion, she wished to alleviate the girl's suffering.
But what could she do as Spirit of Cloth? What power did she have?
Surely, I can manipulate fabric, Sein thought. Why not? Let me see what I can do.
That notion planted itself in her mind, and with it came a flood of energy, fuelling her newfound sense of purpose.
Sein rushed after the lone girl, stirring up the ground behind her. Glancing back, she was surprised.
How could her movements affect the dust if she was a spirit? Pushing the thought aside, she focused on the silhouette of the lone girl.
In her mind, she visualised mending the tears in the seams, lengthening the skirt, and renewing the fabric to a pristine state. She added a few tweaks to make the simple clothing more refined.
Seeing the change she commanded, Sein was rewarded with a rush of satisfaction and fulfilment.
A sixteen-year-old girl walking ahead, accidentally dropped an orange and chased after it as it rolled back towards the lone girl.
When she glanced up, she was startled by the transformation she saw. She blinked several times to ensure her eyes weren't deceiving her.
Before her stood a girl wearing a full-length skirt with a delicate floral pattern, its colour as bright as the sun. Her cream blouse was immaculate, with lace-edged sleeves and frog fastenings featuring elaborate loops and knots.
The change had been so subtle that the girl herself hadn't noticed, but she looked truly polished.
"What happened to you?" the older girl asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.
The lone girl looked puzzled and repeated, "What? What happened?"
"I mean your clothes. You've changed your clothes. When did you do that? And where did you get those clothes from? They're really nice."
The lone girl looked down on her legs, and felt the silkiness of her long skirt flowing and caressing her ankles as the breeze picked up. She gasped in disbelief.
"I dunno. It's… I dunno," she stammered, then ventured uncertainly. "It must be Spirit of Clothes or something. I wished I'd had better clothes and I was praying for it this morning."
Another girl from the group ahead, who was waiting for her friend, overheard this and spoke up, "Do you mean Spirit of Style? Wait, that doesn't sound right. I guess it must be Spirit of Clothes then."
"No, there's no such spirit. There's probably one for cloth though. What do you reckon, Thuza?"
Someone else joined in the discussion, as a few more young people retraced their steps towards the lone girl.
Thuza, having been asked for her opinion, nodded.
"Yes, you're right. My grandma is always telling me to never throw clothes on the floor or it'll anger Spirit of Cloth. But she never told me this spirit can make your clothes look good."
She eyed the lone girl with keen interest before declaring, "I'm going to pray to Spirit of Cloth. I want pretty clothes too."
After the initial success of using her cloth power, Sein began receiving prayers from various people in the village. She granted the wishes generously. And with every joy and pleasure she brought to her devotees, a deep sense of accomplishment nourished her.
As the weeks slipped away, Spirit of Cloth accumulated more and more followers. Within several months, the spirit's growing popularity led to a small altar being erected, just outside the village square.
A group of girls had initiated this, eager to provide the spirit a recognised 'home' for devotees to leave offerings. Though modest, a simple wooden shelf raised to chest height; it held a glass of water, smouldering sandalwood incense, and an assortment of fresh fruits.
Sein was amused and touched to see her altar. She felt her power grow within her, like a water jug filling drip by drip, each drop, each devotee, steady and gratifying.
One late afternoon, cool air descended from the mountains, signalling a shift in the seasons. The fresh breeze tip-toed through the village, carrying with it the earthy scent of wood smoke from the cookers.
After dinner time, several children came out to play in the streets. Sein noticed two young boys, who had the same wiry dark hair and bright, mischievous eyes, obviously brothers.
They held wooden swords, crudely made out of branches, and engaged in an energetic pretend sword fight. Kicking up plumes of dust, the boys fiercely competed to knock the sword out of each other's hands.
"What on earth are you boys doing?" Sein exclaimed in frustration, after observing them for some time. "Your stance is all wrong, and your footwork is questionable. You don't whack at each other like that!"
Then realising mortals couldn't hear her, she turned away, agitated. It was too annoying to watch their clumsy movements.
A thought occurred shortly afterwards. How do I know so much about sword fighting? Sein wondered.
This question triggered her recollection of her eldest brother, Thura.
His firm voice echoed in her mind, "Do not grip your sword too hard, or take any extra unnecessary steps, or allow fear to set in. These will drain your energy fast. Be decisive, fluid, and use as little energy as possible to cut down the enemy."
***
It was early evening and the remaining light outside was fading fast. The shutters had been closed, and numerous ornate lanterns that hung throughout the family sitting room, were lit.
Sein heard footsteps breaking the silence, swift and certain, like someone on a mission. Her hands stilled over the embroidery she'd been diligently working on, and her eyes rose with expectation, anticipating her brother's familiar figure to appear.
"You're late today, Thura," Sein called out, making her brother halt on his way to the dining room.
Noticing her carelessly drop a small piece of cloth onto the polished wooden floor, he altered his course and approached her.
"Only a little. I guess I missed supper with the family."
Thura pulled off his military jacket, and draped it on the back of a low chair. He was like his father, tall and lean, with good looks and a pleasing presence.
"You didn't miss much. Just Mama making a huge fuss because cousin Htay announced his engagement today," Sein said. "Mama was saying you should be settling down, since you're practically ancient."
Thura let out a sigh and crossed his arms, as he stated, "Twenty two is not ancient. And I'm not in a hurry to get married."
His eyes lingered on the object on the floor. "Don't throw your work on the ground. You may anger the spirit of embroidery or some spirit or other."
"…"
Sein pulled a silly face at him.
Thura picked up the cloth and sat down next to Sein, propping the silk cushion behind his back.
His nose picked up the delicious aroma of home-cooking seeping in from the kitchen, as he remarked, "Mmm… smells like curry for supper."
Then turning his attention to Sein, he asked, "What are you working on?"
"Oh it's nothing important," Sein replied. "Since I'm not allowed to do anything interesting like you. Mama seems to think if my hands are kept busy, then I won't be so bored."
"It looks like a gardenia, your favourite flower. You really have been working hard on it. This is good embroidery, Sein," Thura offered his praise as his thumb brushed over the bumpy stitches before he laid it on the low rosewood table in front of him.
Sein shrugged off the comment.
Stretching his arms and working out unseen knots, Thura continued, "Are you really that bored?"
"Totally," Sein replied and leaned back in the chair, pulling her legs up and hugging her knees. "Tell me about your day."
Thura scratched the back of his neck and yawned. Finally, he said, "It's been a long one. I've been with the Crown Prince."
Sein glanced at him unimpressed.
He continued, "Initially, I thought training the young prince was going to be a chore, but at fifteen, he's rather impressive. He's been learning martial arts with his uncle, so naturally he has poise, balance, and technique.
"But what really stood out was his ability to control his mind. He has excellent focus and self-discipline. His movements are decisive, smooth, and precise. I'm telling you, he's on track to become an elite swordsman, probably even surpassing me one day. I suppose I completely lost track of the time. We've been at it all afternoon."
"Sure," Sein said flatly. "The Crown Prince is amazing. We can only have praises for him. An eternal light shines out of his ar–"
Thura flicked a stern look at Sein causing her to stop abruptly.
He interjected, "I'm not like other people who praise him because he is the Crown Prince. I'm truly impressed. How fortunate can a young man be? Status, power, wealth, and even good looks."
Sein shot up in her seat at this and said with disdain, "Oh please, he may be the perfect darling of this kingdom, dear brother, but I've seen him around at the Audience Hall last year. He lacks any personality or warmth. I fear he's nothing more than an entitled young man. Another one to add to the pile of arrogant young lords of the court. You, on the other hand, are ten times more his worth…"
Unexpectedly Thura burst into a fit of giggles, interrupting her. Sein crossed her arms to express her disapproval.
"Don't be so hasty in your judgement of someone you don't know personally. I see you're trying to bolster my ego. Seriously though, Sein, don't let anyone hear you speak harshly of the Crown Prince."
"Why can't I speak my mind," Sein rolled her eyes again. "Fine, I get it. I shall hold my tongue and be generous with my words. It's just, I suppose, I'm a bit envious that he gets to learn sword fighting and you're the one teaching him."
"He is the Crown Prince, after all. He gets to do a lot of things, some you may be envious of and others you'll be glad you never have to encounter. Tell you what," Thura said, a grin appearing. "If it's in my power, and when you're a bit older, maybe in a year's time when you're fifteen," he patted her shoulder, "I will teach you sword fighting. You have my word."
Before Sein could burst in excitement at her brother's promise, their mother, Lady Marlar, walked into the room.
Her figure was wonderfully ample, yet graceful. She was dressed in a coordinated top and long skirt, with a luxurious train gliding behind her.
A serving girl followed, tray in hand, her steps careful to avoid the intricate lace and tulle trailing along the floor.
"You will do no such thing, Thura," Lady Marlar said, a matter of factly, observing the brother and sister briefly.
She had fine features with dark eyes, though her face showed the trials of raising three sons and a daughter.
"Playing around with a sword is not for a lady."
Sein and Thura exchanged a glance, and Thura immediately objected, "Mama, swordsmanship is hardly playing around. I do not see why a lady should not learn to defend herself."
Lady Marlar signalled for the serving girl to put the tray on the table, and dismissed her.
Looking agitated, she rested her hands on her hips, and responded, "We have martial lords, like you, to protect us. Why would we, ladies, need to train in such physical pursuits. It will completely ruin our figures. Come, Thura, you can take your supper in this room."
Her attention now turned towards her daughter.
"As for you, Sein, all this silly talk. What on spirits is going on in your head! I cannot help but think being constantly around your brothers has done you no good. Perhaps we should send you to a school for ladies since having your own teacher has not worked out."
"No, Mama," Sein quickly straightened her back, pulled her knees together, and rested her feet on the floor. "I promise I will behave in a lady-like manner. I will do my best to follow all the court etiquettes. Please do not send me away."
Her mother wasn't listening. She was busy arranging a variety of dishes on the low table in front of her son.
The air was saturated with the rich aroma of coconut chicken curry, mingling with the smokiness of charred meat and the comforting scent of freshly steamed rice, all blending into a tantalising medley.
Thura picked up his cutlery and tucked into the papaya salad, the sharp lime dressing making him squint involuntarily.
"Really," Lady Marlar muttered. "Surrounded by boys all your life. That will be why you are turning into a tom boy. Sword fighting and martial arts. Ludicrous. If only you had a sister but no, it was not meant to be. But why none of your cousins are girls is beyond me? There is simply not enough girls in our family."
"Mama, please have faith," Thura began after swallowing his food, then winked at Sein. "Your only daughter will turn out to be the picture perfect lady. She will have many suitable lords to choose to marry."
"I'm not just good for marrying off, you know," Sein protested under her breath as Thura continued to eat his supper.
Thura kept his promise and secretly taught Sein how to wield a sword. She cherished the hour she spent with him each week, at the training grounds.
Over many months, he taught her the basic techniques and guided her practice, until he felt Sein was ready to move forward.
To the impatient young lady, it was frustrating to repeatedly practice footwork, handling, blocks and strikes on her own.
"Have patience, Sein," Thura coaxed. "Everything you've learned must surface fluidly, flowing automatically and with absolute confidence."
When Sein was proficient enough, Thura allowed her to practice the exercises with him, simulating combat, first, moving slowly, then building up to varying speeds.
Occasionally, a few men from Thura's training group lingered after their session ended, staring in astonishment at the slender girl dressed in men's clothing, fencing with her brother.
Thura focused on teaching his sister techniques that would ensure she could adequately defend herself in any situation.
"The important thing is, make sure you're the one alive at the end. That can mean pulling dirty tricks and not fighting fairly."
"Fabulous, that's what I want to learn," Sein insisted in a playful tone. "Teach me the dirty tricks!"
***
The thought of Thura, filled Sein with a glowing light expanding in her chest. He was someone who understood her well, and supported her when the storm of conflict raged with her mother.
She imagined Thura with his wife, and by now, surrounded by children, living happily in the capital. She wondered whether she had nieces or nephews.
As time pressed on, Spirit of Cloth's altar became crowded with offerings as most households became devotees.
Sein often found a variety of fruits and rice cakes left out, but after several days, would go off in the heat of the dry season.
By this time, Sein was aware the locals didn't have an abundance of food, and seeing this as wasteful, she started to consume the fruits, despite feeling no hunger.
Occasionally she tasted the sharp tang of oranges or the sweetness of very ripe bananas.
The more she ate, the more her taste buds returned. The more her taste buds returned, the more her past life grew clearer.
What struck her was the stark contrast between her mortal life and the simple existence of these villagers.
From what Sein could recall, her family lived in one of the prestigious apartments in the royal palace compound.
Her father, Lord Hein, descended from a noble lineage of warriors and oversaw the training of the King's men. His impeccable reputation for honour and skill, commanded respect among the royal family and the lords of the court.
Her mother, Lady Marlar, was a social whirlwind, who tirelessly visited various prominent families, forging connections and strategic acquaintances at every opportunity.
She was driven by her concern that her only daughter might remain unmarried. This was the result of a prediction made by a renowned astrologer at Sein's birth.
"I am at the end of my tether," Lady Marlar complained to her older sister, Eindra. "Whatever am I to do?"
She handed over a delicate roll of parchment. It was a cosmic schedule for Sein's future.
In the Central Plains, such forecasts were a common practice for many people, and the paper one's future was written on, was considered a person's most prized possession.
There was a strong belief that, 'the journey is steepest when the destination is veiled, but with a clear view, even mountains shrink'.
Yet, in Lady Marlar's case, seeing the future only enlarged the mountains.
"What is all this?" Eindra questioned, furrowing her brows.
She was an influential figure in Lady Marlar's life since their mother died of an illness when they were little girls.
"Sein's forecast is not entirely clear cut. I am told there are many ambiguities clouding her prospects for love and marriage," Lady Marlar pointed out.
"It is rather odd," Eindra commented, her dark eyes scrutinising each word on the parchment.
"It is a puzzle indeed," Lady Marlar sighed. "Only half a man is seen in her married life. How can that be, sister?"
"Ridiculous! I do not like your astrologer. This is proof he has no idea what he is doing," Eindra grumbled, leaning back in the chair. "You must consult my astrologer, Myint. He will not only give you an accurate forecast but will guide you in what can be done. There are many ritual acts that will drive away any evil spirits that is obstructing the path to Sein's marital success."
"I think you are right, sister. I must take action."
"Indeed, you must before she is old enough to be presented in court. How old is she now?"
"Twelve, next month."
"Gracious, already? Let me have a look at her. Where is my niece? Sein!"
Sein had been quietly working on her calligraphy practice, drifting in and out of their conversation. Her brush strokes had become smudged on the pristine page as her concentration shifted to a book on the table. She was drawn to the page of text which described battle strategies used in previous wars.
How brutal, Sein thought. It was one of Thura's books.
"Sein!" Lady Marlar's shrill voice interrupted Sein's musing. "Come along and greet your aunt."
Sein lightly jumped up from her low seat and rushed over to the lounge area by the windows. The harsh sun stretched its fingers, trying to claw at the table where the ladies were seated.
"Hello, Auntie Eindra," Sein greeted with amusement on her face.
Thura is right, she thought. Our Aunt is a little like a battle axe. I wouldn't want to mess with her.
"Sein, how are you?" Eindra asked, but without waiting for a reply, she turned to her sister and continued, "I shall organise an urgent meeting with Myint. I am certain he will be able to help. I see she is already blooming into a beautiful lady. She has your fine features and her father's slender figure. She will have no trouble securing a lord from a prestigious family. Perhaps even the young prince."
Hearing this last sentence, Sein's eyes flicked upward in a wordless expression of annoyance.
All the ladies of the court were rolling up their sleeves, elbowing each other out of the way, all in pursuit of the Crown Prince for their daughters.
"Much appreciated," Lady Marlar smiled, her usual straight back relaxing into the soft cushions. "Indeed, but sister, there are rumours the Crown Prince is to be betrothed to a princess from the South."
"How unfortunate!" Eindra exclaimed, her face twisting as though she'd bitten into an unripe fruit.
After a consultation with Myint, Sein found herself dragged from one shrine to another each week, most often to the one dedicated to Spirit of Love and Marriage.
Despite all the merit-making rituals she'd been compelled to perform over the years, she concluded nothing had altered the course foretold in her predictions.
Even now as a spirit, she felt a deep sense of emptiness, a void she dared not examine too closely.
She quickly shifted her focus to her surroundings, watching the people of Sagyo go about their lives. She marvelled at the simple and straight forward nature of village life in contrast to the complexities of court society.
Gradually, she discerned the familiar faces of the locals from the anonymous passersby. Some were curious and stopped at her altar to peer at it.
It wasn't obvious which spirit this shrine was for. There was no statue, only a folded up piece of red cloth among the offerings. Others paid no attention at all.
A woman who appeared to be middle aged, paused in front of her altar. It was the hottest part of the day when most villagers were indoors.
Sein studied this stranger who showed signs of having been on the road. The bottom of her long skirt was travel worn and her hair was cloaked in a veil to protect her from the sun.
She pressed her hands together and murmured something under her breath. It was a prayer to find her son. She gazed up just where Sein happened to be standing. Her pale green eyes were glistening.
Those eyes caused Sein to gasp. Zeya!
Memories of Zeya flooded her mind. Wave after wave, it threatened to pull her under. From the very first glance, his pale green eyes, luminous and clear as polished jade, captivated her. As if those eyes had whispered a silent enchantment, that took hold of her heart entirely.