The visitors came not with a whisper, but a bang.
As the sun began to rise on the morning of the ceremony, the shrine was already mutely buzzing with activity. Spare units were being readied for the few quests that traveled for several days and would require a few hours of rest. The kitchen was furiously churning out rolls of bread, plates of cheese, and bowls of fruit for the larger number of guests joining that morning’s breakfast. The sound of feet pattering across wood floors told Davina that even the children were lending a hand to cleaning the Big House. Sisters traipsed back and forth from building to building, laying out spare candles, sheets, worship booklets, and toiletries.
Davina’s arms were laden with cloth that would serve as an extra layer of protection to guard against the famous Bridlo weather. Sister Verbena, one of the older children, was helping her lay the spare garments across the beds meant for their guests. They made their way from unit to unit, each of the twelve buildings identical both inside and out. They shared the same white brick exterior that all of the other buildings on the property had, and small windows that brought in a surprising amount of sunlight. Four beds were placed into each one, two stacked upon the other, and the only other piece of furniture in the rooms were two chests that held spare tunics and a veil.
Davina wasn’t very fond of Verbena. The fifteen year old was in this fun stage where she thought she knew everything and others were beneath her. It wasn’t hard maintaining silence around her. The maneats often joked that the girl looked exactly like she had when she was around that age, and she was hoping that was where the similarities ended. Verbena had the same golden skin, curly hair, and face full of freckles, but she was too rude for Davina to enjoy the jokes that they could actually be sisters. She’d rather be likened to Sister Sedum, who was the same age as Verbena but different in every way that counted. Only a year away from her pre-vows, Sedum was determined to make a good impression on the maneats and the matrem she was respectful, calm, and always willing to help. Davina was quietly wishing Sedum were the one neatly folding clothing with her instead of having to refold everything Verbena messely flung onto begs as she dragged her feet.
And then there it was, a knock at the front entrance. Well, not so much a knock as it was three impressively heavy slams against the weathered gate.
The startling knocks surprised not only Davina, but Verbena who froze, her hands still in the middle of shutting the door to the unit they had just left. Even Sister Sage, whose involuntary gasp of shock knocked the spare candles out of her hands as she left the unit across from them. Davina had not once heard the small and ropy sister utter a sound.
Noticing that none of the sisters scattered throughout the community had yet to move towards the door, Davina saw her chance. The curiosity to see who in sweet sun would dare make that much noise at a shrine had overridden the desire to be perfect Sister Myrtle. The spare cloth forgotten in a heap she heaved into the startled arms of Verbena, Davina’s bare and callused feet dashed towards the gate. If any of the sisters had tried to stop her from opening it, well, she didn’t hear any objections.
The units were spread out on either side of the main path that led from the gate all the way up to the main house. She was almost glad now that she had been sent to distribute the spare garments, even if it was with Verbena, for she wouldn’t have been the one to answer the door had she been elsewhere in the complex.
The aged door groaned deeply as Davina flung it open. It was seldom opened, when the occasional locals entered their community for choir or prayer, they came in through a side door that led directly to the worship hall. The last time the main gate had been opened was a few months ago when Sister Scaevola and sister Cleome became part of their family. She was almost giddy that she was getting to pry open the only thing that separated the sisters from the outside world.
Behind it stood four of the oddest women she had ever seen. The four women were covered from chin to ankles in crisp white sleeved shirts and long navy blue skirts. Stunned into stillness herself, her guard came down as her eyes flicked over the familiar toques and white veils. Sweet light they’re…sisters?! Oddly colorful sisters.
“Greetings sister.” Well if Davina’s eyes weren’t already the size of supper plates, they certainly widened at the skirted woman before her. She was tall. Impossibly tall. Davina wasn’t short by any means, but standing before her she was dwarfed. Though she towered over a few of the sisters since her last growth spurt, she somehow only came up to the woman’s chest.
This magical tall, skirt-wearing sister wore thickly rimmed golden glasses, and had incredibly round cheeks that looked so soft Davina wanted nothing more than to touch them. Her eyebrows were so pale they were barely there, and the lines on her face told a story Davina wished she could read.
She however was not wearing a matching navy skirt like the women behind her. Once her brain finally registered the all-white ensemble this fascinating woman wore, Davina quickly bowed her head. For before her stood another Revered Matrem.
“Matrem Liatris, I take it your travels were well?” Seeing the wilted hands of Matrem Aster out of the corner of her eyes, Davina whipped around so fast that the bottom of her black veil swatted the side of her face.
What. the. sun. is. happening? Is she..smiling?!
“They were quite well Attie. Soldeus shined down upon us and kept us from harm's way.” Matrem Liatris’ eyes turned back to Davina and the lines in her round soft cheeks suddenly creased into a smile. With how deep the lines were Davina figured it was an action she did often. To add more wonder to an already perplexing moment, the matrem turned her words to her fellow sisters. “I take it from the look upon this little tempus’ face that no one told her of our arrival?”
Sweet Soldeus what was going on? And did she just call the Revered Matrem “Attie”? Oh I’m sooo going to use that.
Matrem Aster chuckled at the nickname, which for the stern woman just sounded like a small huff of air.
Oh stars. Nope nope I’ve lost it. Davina had never seen her laugh before.
“We thought it best to surprise our young ones.” We’re Davina’s eyes playing tricks on her or was Matrem Aster beaming at her? “This one always had a bit of a wild spirit.” Okay well she wasn’t wrong there.
Matrem Liatris gave a knowing nod, and Davina thought she noticed a hint of fond reflection in her eyes. “Well then, why don’t we let my sisters rest from the journey and begin.”
⟴
The new sisters had come all the way from The West Notrose Shrine of New Light. They were the furthest of the shrines in Nescio, and had spent four days traveling by foot, train, and boat to reach Malden Bay. In the West Notrose shrine the Sisters of New Light wore navy blue tunics instead of the brown Davina had grown up wearing. It was explained that each shrine wore a different color to signify which shrine they represented, yet the color of the veils was the same for everyone. The matrems and manests still wore all white, and black veils were reserved for tempuses. Only the Malden Bay sisters had tentants, who simply wore toques that wrapped under their chins and covered their hair. Davina had been the first child in shrine history to join (if you could call it that), so it was apt that their community would be the first to introduce the role of the tentant.
This was all explained to Davina, Viola, and Angelonia by the two white-clad women in Matrem Aster’s office. The new matrem had wanted to meet the candidates for the ceremony, and since her own ceremony was only six months away it made sense for Davina to join them as well.
Davina had been in the office many times while growing up. Matrem Aster had been the one to personally teach the child how to speak with her hands. The sacred language had been drilled into her small brain, but soon the other sisters had joined in, sporadically quizzing her on new words.
The room was barren except for an old desk with small piles of paperwork neatly littering it’s surface, a cabinet in the corner, and a painting of Soldeus upon the wall.
The piece was donated to the shrine by a painter who attended the weekly worship sessions held by the maneats. A gold hand stood admits buttery clouds with beams of light stretching out towards the corners of the frame. It was meant to represent Soldeus’ lawful hand, his warmth, and the Great Light. The painting hung next to a large window overlooking the Bridlo skyline. Davina was often distracted by it when she was younger. It was the only but of life in the room, unlike the newly refurbished schoolrooms across the hall, that ozzed color and warmth.
The children were slightly crammed into one of the Big House’s spare rooms, and had been outfitted with chalkboards, posters, pictures, and small cushions. If only my schooling had been like that. Young Davina was notorious for having the backs of her hands covered in small welts. It was hard trying to stay awake while the Matrem slowly droned on about the corruption of the outside world. As slow as that woman moved she certainly was quick with a ruler.
But now the Matrems had her full attention for once.
“As you three may have gathered by now, the Ceremony of Sun is more community based than we originally let on. Which is why for the next three days our shrine will house eight sisters from neighboring shrines.” Davina had never stared so hard at Matrem Aster’s ancient hands.
For once the thoughts in Davina’s mind stopped drifting. Mainly because they had all crashed head first into one another. Eight! Eight guests! And from other counties!
Though the visitors themselves were incredibly secluded from society, anyone not constantly within this complex must be fascinating. But what if they’re mean? What if they’re even stricter than my sisters? The Malden Bay Sisters of New Light were very accustomed to the girl’s semi-wild ways, but the sisters from Hilrock, Notrose, and Bridgeside were not. Perhaps Myrtle will have to stick around for a little longer.
Her mind was still too chaotically loud to grasp that Matrem Liatris had asked the tempuses for their names. Viola and Angelonia’s answers were fuzzy movements just out of focus as Davina still stared wide-eyed at her Matrem.
“And your name child? Sister? Is she quite well?”
It was Viola’s elbow nudging her ribs that made Davina drag her eyes from one Matrem to the other. Luckily though, Matrem Aster answered for her. Perhaps she noticed the dazed fish-out-of-water look across the girl’s face.
“This is Sister Myrtle. You remember her don’t you? She was about yay high, gangly, and had curls for a head.” Matrem Aster (or Attie, as Davina’s thoughts unnecessarily pointed out) held her wrinkled and spotted hand up to the edge of her desk, humor coloring her dusty eyes.
“Ah, yes, I thought I recognized that face. My, how you’ve grown child. Soldeus must have kept a close eye on you.” Davina had no memory of meeting her before. The last time she was allowed to wear her hair freely around the shrine she was about seven, so it was very likely her kid brain just didn’t remember her.
“Thank you Matrem. It seems Soldeus watched over you too, I am glad to see you again.” Davina’s hands felt stiff and jerky, but her reply seemed to satisfy both sisters.
Her wildest thoughts were coming to life before her, yet Davina’s veins felt sluggish and beads of sweat had started under her toque. This wasn’t the safety of her unit. There was no cushion of fantasy to make her feel safe. This was a small room where two very important people told her reality no longer existed. And that sent a small shiver down her spine.
⟴
Two sisters from the Hilrock shrine had arrived while the tempuses were discussing the ceremony with the Matrems. While the women descended the stairs and joined the sea of veils and tunics gathered around the benches, the echo of the front gate cut through the beginnings of their breakfast. Introductions were put on hold until these new guests, along with the resting Notrose Sisters, reached the Big House.
Davina’s brain was going to melt right out of her ears.
Once everyone was settled there were no empty seats left in the room. Including their Matrem, the Malden Bay Shrine of New Light housed fifteen sisters. There was always plenty of room to roam about the complex, benches at mealtimes sat unused, dust covered some of the spare units, but that was not the case with their new visitors. The eight new sisters brought with them a whirlwind of personality. Never before had Davina heard so much life echoing inside the community. They chatted enthusiastically with others, helped pass out plates of food, even helped clean up an ocean of spilled juice one of the children knocked over. What Davina couldn’t tear her eyes away from were their colors.
Along with the navy blue of the West Notrose Sisters, swirls of pale yellow and blue were scattered throughout the dull Malden Bay brown.
One Notrose sister, this time from their East branch, walked arm in arm with Sister Sage. Their smiles and shaking laughter quickly displayed their friendship. The happy pale blue looked so out of place next to the quiet and proper sister she had grown up around.
Another all-white sister greeted the Matrems with a warm embrace before joining them beside the hearth. Davina couldn’t help but stare at the trio, their robes glowing faintly from the flames radiated power.
Apparently a fourth matrem, Reverend Matrem Cosmos, was meant to witness this year's ceremony, but became ill at the last minute and had to stay behind. The Hilrock sisters bowed slightly before the trio of glowing women as they shared this news before returning to the bench they had occupied. To Davina’s fascination their bright yellow skirts reminded her of wildflowers that grew around the edges of the property. If she stared long enough she could imagine the sisters as tall swaying blooms, though she realized her staring might come off as rude so she quickly stopped.
The Hilrock sisters were also quick to ask for the insulating garments, their arms both covered in goosebumps and they kept mentioning something about a draft.
Sneaking peeks into their conversations Davina soon realized how the Hilrock sisters had achieved their sun-kissed glow. Their community sat at one of the southernmost points of Nescio, beyond miles of farmland, where the Glasgus Sea meets the Poncona Sea. They conveyed what life was like under tall palm trees (Davina had always wanted to see one), morning prayers on the beach, carving prayer beads from shells (her favorite things to collect), and something called hammocks. Beaches in Bridlo county were cold and rocky, but the fondness and warmth coming from their faces made her think that Hilrock beaches must be very different.
That breakfast was unlike any other, sure the food was still the same, but she was squashed on one of the long benches in between yellow and navy blue. She sat there speechless at their casual banter, and robotically shoveled chunks of bread into her mouth. They seemed to have no trouble easing into this fantastical life that had sprung forth from Davina’s mind. Davina, though this was everything she had wished for, had a bit of whiplash. New people? What’s next, no veils?
Well no, that much stayed normal, and the new sisters eventually changed out of their travel clothes once they were settled in. So at least some sense of normalcy was back. Emphasis on some. The sisters had carried with them small rucksacks that held their everyday tunics, spare veils, toques, and paperwork to permit travel. Their everyday tunics were the same colors as their travel skirts, and the longer she stared at the sea of blues and yellow the more plain her Malden Bay brown felt.
The chaos of the morning settled, the sisters now rested and full, preparations for the ceremony could begin.
As the Matrems explained the steps for the next three days, it seemed Davina would only be able to take part in two out of the eight customs. Though before her spirits could truly sink, Sister Zinnia had leaned over to assure that she would be able to witness some of the rituals. And there wasn’t anything on the first day that she (as a tempus) was barred from participating in. The jealousy of once again having others complete their ceremony before hers sizzled in her stomach.
It was a bell, of course, that ushered in the start of the ceremony. All sisters were to find their way to the worship hall, where the matrems were to bless the ceremonial robes Viola and Angelonia were to wear during the three days. The robes were meant to signify their integration into the community through unity. It was not until the matrems were flicking droplets of sacred oil onto them, that she finally got a clear look at the robes.
Lying across the altar that only ever held a statue of Soldeus, were two long white dressing gowns. They were unnaturally long, the sleeves and hem trailing along the floor despite being several feet high. The sun?
When the matrems were finished mouthing quiet blessings over the garments, they lifted their heads and addressed their gathering.
“Sisters, before us stand two of our own, ready to embark on the lifelong journey towards Soldeus’ guiding light. May we all take a moment and remember our own ceremonies. The warmth of our savior’s love, the support from our fellow sisters, and the nerves of facing one’s future head on.” Matrem Liatris’ hands carried such power and sentiment that for a moment Davina almost forgot to be disappointed that she would not be receiving a robe that day. Almost.
Matrem Aster took over where the navy matrem had stopped, the sacred language in her hands a slow, crumbly imploring urge instead of a fiery push. “Please, bow your heads and ask our savior to help guide these candidates on their journey to cleanse their souls.” After a moment of silence...well after a moment of more silence, a sea of veiled heads slowly lifted. “We are all on that same journey, yet theirs has just begun. May Soldues lead us to paradise.” Noticing that the third woman next to the altar, Matrem Shasta, looked a bit younger than the other two women and stood quietly to the side, Davina thought perhaps this was her first ceremony too.
As an evening of prayer concluded, Davina was a little bummed to realize that was the end of the day’s activity. Blessing of the ceremonial robes, and asking Soldues to take the applicants into his all-powerful hands. Nothing like the fun three-day celebration she had envisioned.
Any excitement she had towards witnessing the ceremony gently plummeted. This is going to be a longggg three days.
And indeed they were.
⟴
Now this is the part in the story where Fate would like to brag.
Had the matrem from Hilrock not been sick and too frail to travel, she would have convinced our girl to go through with the ceremony. Matrem Cosmos had a knack for persuading young souls. So she had to go. Not that kind of go of course, Fate wasn’t that heartless, they weren’t Destiny after all. They just happened to catch the older woman in a surprise rainstorm, which gave her a bad case of the sniffles.
Anyway, full steam ahead.
⟴
Breakfast the next morning was…weird. Yes there was no better word for it. Sisters from different shrines were clambering over themselves to be near Viola and Angelonia. Their long white robes trailed along the breakfast bench and the wood floors, giving them an angelic glide as they walked. Brown, yellow, and blue sisters were almost tripping over one another to hand the girls rolls of bread, cups of water, or anything they asked for. Davina’s brain practically melted out of her ears when she saw someone feed Angelonia grapes. Though her face hid it well the robed girl's eyes seemed to be enjoying the situation a little too much.
Viola otherwise, seemed incredibly uncomfortable with being waited on. Her smooth face was a brilliant shade of crimson and her body was trying to do its best to shrink in upon itself. Davina tried to give her old friend a sympathetic nod or a gesture of some kind to let her know that she empathized, but the girl never met her eyes.
Day two of the rituals involved stabbing. And not the fun kind.
The sisters sat in a circle, shoulder to shoulder, each one hunched over and fixated on the task in front of them. It was tradition (apparently) for a newly vowed manet to be gifted a sash heavily embroidered by her fellow sisters. So that’s how Davina spent the first nine hours of her morning. Tediously stitching small suns and flowers onto a strip of fabric, pricking her fingers to oblivion, and going cross-eyed from concentration.
When they were finally finished, her strained eyes couldn’t believe what they were seeing. The sisters had stitched together two works of art. One sash depicted the Great Light, a fiery world slowly transitioning into peaceful land, while the other showed the evolution of the Sisters of New Light. From the very first worshiper of Soldeus, Sister Vidalii, shown with her arms reaching towards the heavens, to clusters of modern sisters in varying degrees of worship.
Retiring into her unit to grab a fresh tunic that didn’t sport drops of her finger blood, and not allowed to attend the final act of the day’s celebration, Davina lounged atop her hard lumpy bed.
Davina had never given much thought to the colorful belts the manets wore, but now she couldn’t think of anything else. Despite her sore fingers she craved the idea of wearing something so complex and intricate. The only clothing she owned was her brown tunic, and even then she didn’t truly own it as it was property of the Malden Bay Shrine of New Light.
The only worldly objects she could call hers were the books currently residing under her mattress. Hence the bed’s general lumpiness. There were books in the community of course, but they had to be approved by the Matrem first and were not to depict the darkness of the outside world. She found those books rather dull, there was no action or fun characters that journeyed to far away places. Only literature revolving around their savior was permitted
The eight books had been slowly acquired (stolen, let’s be real) from assorted donations the sisters had organized with the local townspeople over the years. Though many of them had rather bland titles that she would probably never read such as: Nescio Tax Law, A History of the Adhesive Postage Stamp, and Issues in Geographic Data Systems: From Bridgeside to Bridlo, they were solid things she could call hers. They also wouldn’t be permitted to rest on the dusty shelves in the Big House.
One title however had piqued her interest as she had picked it’s navy blue spine out of a cardboard box , Viperous Vasil Victories.
The Vasils. Davina knew of them, she had to. Even in a silent shrine it was impossible not to know of the family that stepped down from noble duties, severing ties with the other rulers. Even silent sisters love to gossip.
Davina had treated history lessons from her tutor about the Plucknars, Navarretes, Ruchiia, Vasils, and Yinz family as bedtime stories growing up. She’d dreamed of: building trading ports with Theodore and Ophelia Vasil, farming on war torn land with Atilio and Lucy Navarrete, curing illnesses in a white doctor’s uniform alongside Jin and Dara Yinz, bringing light into the homes of survivors with Orville and Elaine Devoe, and crafting intricate looms with Kenneth and Gail Plucknar. She’d had dreams about practically every heir and their choice of profession. Those dreams stopped when the maneats started talking about her future ceremony and permanency in their ranks. The outside world would soon have no place in her life.
With her thoughts circling around the book, she reached under the sheets and slipped her hand into the treasure trove of crime.
Flipping through the book she’d come across several chapter headings of tales she already knew of. From the family’s initial fame by helping clear and defend the now city of Idela with their allies the Yinzs, to lowering crime in Nescio and establishing the first jail, there was nothing she hadn’t already heard of at some point.
What had truly made Davina pause and read each line word by word, was the list of Vasil ancestry. The only other thing the Vasils were infamous for, besides leaving noble life, was the numerous deaths in their family tree. The family had been plagued by childhood accidents, murder, and several deaths due to high risk twin pregnancies. Under the very last Vasil King, Ambrose, was a series of crossed out names. His wife Aella*, and their three children Alysa, Alexandar, and *. There was however an asterisk next to Aella’s name and the same symbol in place of the third child’s name. Reading the footnote at the bottom of the page her questions were answered, *After the disappearance of Queen Aella and the unborn Princess on Dec. 12, X230, and following a failed thirteen month-long search, the two missing nobles have been declared dead as of Jan. 12, X232.
Davina’s tutor had explained that the reason behind the King’s decision to withdraw from royal life was heartbreak over the loss of his wife. Never once had they mentioned that the Queen had disappeared. Let alone a pregnant one.
Book clutched close to her heart, she let her tired eyes rest. Just for a few minutes...
⟴
Davina couldn’t make much sense of the nightmare.
Once she jerked awake, her treasure fluttering to the floor, her mind felt like the dense Bridlo fog had somehow crept in through the window and burrowed its way through her ears. Pressing her palms into her eyes, flashes of dark tunnels, dirt-caked nails, rusted chains, and the haunting echo of someone screaming looped endlessly in her mind.
She’d had the dream before. Yet she was no closer to figuring out why she was having it then she was six, and Sister Zinnia had come to console her childish tears. It couldn’t have been easy sharing a unit with a child, but Sister Zinnia never complained once, or at least she never did in front of Davina. The patient and warm maneat had explained away the dreams as her overactive imagination trying to give her quiet day some excitement. Her quick justifications and steady eyes would often make warm cups of milk into the wee hours for a rattled child rattling off questions she didn’t know the answers to. Davina always had the impression she was not the first child she had consoled.
As she got older and required less and less supervision and was old enough for her own unit, her nightly routine evolved from cups of warm milk into scalding cups of tea. That night’s tea would have to wait until a bath. Cold sweat had glued her tunic to her back and her hair practically swam underneath the toque.
The only upside to her terrifying dreams was the unlimited hot water. Davina’s morning bath was normally lukewarm at best, having to wait until after the maneats had finished their cleansing rituals. They liked to hog the hot water. Several hours away from sunrise however, the bathhouse was deserted.
When it was empty, the bathhouse was one of her favorite buildings in the shrine. The crackling wood coming from the furnace in the center of the room, the smell of dried flowers and oils, and the steam made her feel as though she had walked into a storybook oasis.
Her bare feet padded across the tiled floors, it’s icy bite not helping with the chill that was slowly working its way towards her bones. Helping herself to one of the racks that lined the walls, she picked out a clean tunic, veil, and toque. The tempuses were tasked with organizing the shelves: carefully folding each garment according to the maneat’s picky standards, sorting each tunic by size, folding and laying out the veils so they wouldn’t crease, and restocking them every three days.
Placing her little pile of clean folded laundry on a nearby counter, she happily stripped off her sweat soaked layers and tossed them into the wash bin. Four large tubs sat at the back of the room, where Davina worked to twist one of the aged knobs. Turning the water as hot as it could go and tossing in a mesh bag full of dried chamomile and daisies, the instant warmth on her skin was blissful.
The Malden Bay Sisters of New Light paid for repairs and small expenses with the money they made from their gardening. Though difficult to grow, there were several rare plants native only to the cliffs of Malden Bay. The sisters worked hard to care for the delicate foliage in the harsh Bridlo environment. Getting a few spare pouches of dried flowers and herbs was one of the rare perks to living in the compound.
Though she didn’t always agree with the strict rules of the community, she could not imagine a life without those floral baths.
The sisters shunned many of life’s luxuries, much to Davina’s chagrin, but that was one of the few they permitted. “Clean body, clean mind, clean soul.” Anything that made them more presentable to Soldeus was welcomed within the shrine. The dense floral aroma that followed the sisters was supposedly how they came by the nickname “the hidden flowers”, or so Viola had told her. They had giggled about an adult joke neither of them understood at the time. Back when they were speaking that is.
A teenaged Viola had been excited to join the ranks of the Sisters of New Light, at first. After a few weeks of determined worship, countless hours of secluded with the Matrem, and hard work dedicated to their savior, she was homesick and desperate to speak to someone, anyone. Naturally she turned to the only other approachable person her age, the gangly round faced Davina. Even as a newly veiled tempus Angelonia carried an air of superiority about her that intimidated Viola into staying as far from her as possible. She’d seen Davina on the other hand walk into doors, stare off into space, and scream-sing during choir. So began their friendship.
In those early days they had bonded in the dead of night, sneaking into the other’s unit and whispering until their eyes burned from exhaustion and the sky had lightened. Davina had shared her unusual introduction into the shrine, and showed her the two books she had “acquired”. It was like bearing a piece of her soul. Viola in turn shared something equally treasured, memories of her pre-vow life.
Magdelena Owens’ parents were workers for one of the energy plants in Bridlo county. The eldest of eight, she’d grown up helping her parents feed her seven siblings by working for a local laundress. She excitedly told the girl about how a strange woman had befriended her and told her of the community. A place where she would be supported, looked after, cherished, and special. There would be no more struggling to find food, or being looked over by her parents, it was this strange woman who told her of the wonders of Soldeus. Wanting to make this fantasy a reality Maggie made the decision to leave her family.
During those late nights she’d spent many hours illustrating what having a house with seven younger siblings was like: the ear-splitting cry of an infant at the crack of dawn, the putrid stench of her middle brother’s school socks, the sticky hands that ruined any sense of cleanliness her parents had tried to instill, and her sisters constantly stealing her things. To Maggie the idea of a place that valued boundaries, peace, and purity was paradise. To Davina the thought of parental warmth, constant shrieking, fights over nothing, and a messy house sounded wondrous. There had been a little too much solitude, silence, and structure for her liking, but she never told her new friend that.
Leaning her head back and letting her tired muscles loosen in the warmth of the water, Davina tried hard to forget the still lingering sound of her dreams.
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