The moment Ysa stepped out of the portal, the familiar sensation of disorientation swept over her. Ysa felt a strange tingling sensation, a rush of warmth that spread through her body.
For a fleeting moment, she saw a kaleidoscope of colors swirling around her, a vibrant display of red, blue, green, yellow, white, and black.
Then, just as quickly, it was gone, leaving her blinking in the unfamiliar sunlight. Before she could gather her thoughts, the shimmering light of the portal faded behind her, leaving only a carved stone archway.
Her eyes took in the small, quiet Sikka village at the edge of the Misty Forest. The village sprawled unevenly, its cottages huddled together as if seeking protection from the looming Wall in the distance.
Why did they send me here? Am I not good enough for them? Maybe if I had been a better daughter, they wouldn't have sent me away. Ysa bit her lip, fighting back tears. I wish I knew what I did wrong.
The villagers thatched the roofs with dried reeds, which showed signs of wear. The villagers displayed their resourcefulness by patching some roofs with mismatched materials.
The people of Sikka moved slowly, their lives measured by the rhythm of the land and the changing seasons. Villagers with sun-darkened skin and tired eyes bustled about with the quiet purpose of those used to hard work.
Men carried bundles of firewood or led small carts loaded with goods, while women, their aprons stained with soil, tended to the vegetable patches or hung laundry on sagging lines strung between houses.
Children darted through the streets, barefoot and laughing, their playfulness a stark contrast to their parents' weary movements.
Ysa watched the villagers go about their daily tasks. A sense of wonder mixed with her apprehension. As she observed them, she noticed something peculiar.
Faint, shimmering lights, each a different color, seemed to dance around them. A woman tending her garden was enveloped in a soft yellow glow, while a man chopping wood emitted a vibrant red aura. Ysa blinked, unsure if what she saw was real or a trick of the light.
The servants behind her unloaded her trunks, their movements brisk, ready to return to Kaptan City once their task was done.
Despite the village's peaceful appearance, an air of caution lingered. People glanced at Ysa and her servants with curious but guarded eyes, their expressions wary of outsiders.
Conversations hushed as she passed, and a few elders bent from age and time paused to watch her with quiet suspicion.
The village was far from grand, but it was alive—its soul rooted in the land and its people, who seemed to carry the weight of generations on their shoulders.
Ahead, the towering presence of The Wall loomed, standing firm between the village and the mysterious Kalibutan border. The mist curled at its base like silent whispers of old secrets.
A wall? Why is there a wall here? It's so tall, I can't even see the top. And what's on the other side? Is it full of monsters? Like the ones in my storybooks? Ysa shivered. I don't like this place. It's scary.
As she took in her surroundings, a figure emerged from the shadowed alleyways, her steps unhurried but purposeful.
Lines of experience were visible on the woman's skin, which had aged from years spent in the sun. Her hands, gnarled and calloused, spoke of hard labor.
She wore a simple brown dress, its hem frayed and dusted with earth, and a faded shawl rested loosely over her shoulders.
Grey hair was pulled into a tight bun, though a few rebellious strands framed her stern face, softening the severity in her eyes with quiet kindness.
"You must be Ysa," the woman said, her voice raspy and rough, like dry autumn leaves caught in the wind. "I am Elsa. Come."
Ysa stared at the woman before her, hesitation tugging at her thoughts. Should I follow her? With no other option, she reluctantly stepped forward.
Elsa? She seems so serious. What if she's mean? Is she the new nanny? The new nanny is scary. I miss my Nana. Don't they want me anymore?
Elsa led her through the maze of narrow lanes, the air growing quieter as they moved away from the village center.
Ysa's eyes darted from one humble dwelling to the next, taking in the thatched roofs, the overflowing flower boxes, the chickens pecking in the dirt yards.
It was a world apart from the manicured elegance of the Montemayor estate in the city. Then, as they rounded a bend in the lane, the imposing gates of the Montemayor residence came into view, a stark contrast to the surrounding rusticity.
Beyond the gate stood a large two-story house, its grey stone walls mirroring the same cold, impenetrable texture as The Wall. Despite its size, there was no warmth in its structure, no sign of life beyond the neatness of its upkeep.
"This is the Montemayor residence," Elsa said, her tone flat, devoid of comfort. "You will stay here."
The Montemayor residence? I don't think I'll like it here. So quiet. Ysa shivered. So this is where they've sent me. To this strange house, with this strange nanny.
They just sent me away, like I was some unwanted package. Ysa's lower lip trembled. Maybe they'll forget all about me. Maybe I'll never see Nana Maria again.
Ysa's footsteps echoed on the cobblestone as they entered the courtyard. The grand house loomed before her, impressive but unwelcoming, its silence heavier than the surrounding air.
Ysa stood in front of the courtyard, the silence pressing in on her. She looked back at the village, its rooftops barely visible over the wall. It seemed a lifetime ago that she was standing in the bustling portal hub, surrounded by servants and trunks.
Now, she was alone; the servants that came with her left. She found herself abandoned in this strange, quiet place.
A tear slipped down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away. She wouldn't cry. She would be strong. She would show them that she didn't need them.
As she steps into the courtyard, Ysa felt a sense of calm wash over her. The air here seemed to crackle with a different kind of energy, a subtle hum that resonated deep within her.
She noticed tiny motes of light, like miniature stars, floating in the air, their colors shifting and swirling in a mesmerizing dance.
Ysa was drawn to them, her fingers twitching with an instinctive urge to reach out and touch them.
Elsa pushed open the heavy wooden door, its hinges groaning in protest. "Come," she said, her voice still gruff, but with a hint of something softer in its depths.
"I'll show you to your room. You can rest for a while, and then I'll tell you about your duties."
Duties? Ysa's stomach tightened. What duties could she possibly have in this strange place? She lowered her gaze, scuffing her toe against the cobblestones, and followed Elsa into the house, her apprehension growing with each step.