Sollene sighed, brushing the last streak of soapy water from the chapel floor. Her arms ached, her knees were sore, and the bitter chill of the stone had long seeped through her clothes. She'd worked double today scrubbing stairwells, hauling firewood, and now this because one of the younger children was too ill to lift his head, and she couldn't bear to watch him get punished for it.
The sisters hadn't asked why she volunteered. They never asked. They didn't care so long as the quota was met.
"Finally finished," she murmured, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her sleeve. Her voice echoed faintly in the hollow chapel, swallowed by the cold stone walls.
She stood, legs stiff from kneeling too long, and made her way to the small wooden table tucked into the chapel corner the work registrar. A battered book rested there, its cover stained with ink and candle wax, a broken quill tied to its spine with fraying twine.
Sollene dipped the quill in the near dry inkwell and scrawled two names into the narrow column meant for daily labor records: "Sollene" and "Micah." The letters bled slightly, uneven from her trembling hand.
As no one noticed no one would care. Most of the time no one ever did.
Sollene walked quietly through the empty halls, the hem of her skirt brushing against the stone floor. She passed the dorm warden's door in silence, careful not to let her footsteps echo. One misstep and she'd be scrubbing again until dawn.
Inside the dormitory, the other girls were already asleep, curled beneath thin blankets. Sollene knelt beside her cot, counted her prayer beads in silence twelve for the children, one for herself and climbed into bed.
She didn't remember falling asleep.
When she opened her eyes, the world had changed.
She was lying on cool earth beneath a pale sky streaked with early morning light. Trees arched high above her familiar in shape, but their leaves held a strange tint, not the deep green she knew, but something lighter, tinged faintly with blue, like the color of the sky caught in glass.
The wind stirred gently, warm but unfamiliar, carrying scents she couldn't name and birdsong she didn't recognize sharper, quicker, as if the melodies belonged to something other.
Sollene sat up, brushing dirt from her skirt. Her heart pounded. This wasn't the orphanage. This didn't feel like her world.
Then water. A soft trickling, steady and clear. Somewhere nearby, a stream was running.
She followed it. Because it was the only sound that felt almost real.
The stream curved between the trees, its banks lined with smooth stones that shimmered faintly, as if dew clung to them long after the sun had risen. Sollene stepped carefully, her bare feet cold against the damp soil, her breath catching every time the trees rustled above her. It was too quiet. No distant bells, no shouting sisters, no coughing children.
Just the stream.
She bent to touch the water. It was warm. Not the warmth of midday sun, but gentle, like a hand on your shoulder. When she pulled her fingers back, a pale light clung to her skin, pulsing once before fading.
She stared at her hand, blinking. Then the silence broke.
"...Help me," a small voice whimpered from beyond the trees, across the stream.
"Somebody, please!"
Sollene froze. The voice was young, trembling, and real.
She stepped to the edge of the water and dipped her foot in. The current was gentle, and the stream only reached just above her ankles. Her dress would be soaked, but that didn't matter. Holding the hem, she waded across, the stones slippery beneath her feet, cold seeping into her bones.
She pushed past the branches and spotted her a girl, maybe fourteen or fifteen, curled at the base of a tree. Her cheeks were streaked with tears, and she clutched her leg with both hands.
Sollene crouched beside her. "My word… are you alright?" she asked gently.
Upon closer inspection Sollene could see the bruise blooming across her shin.
"Are you alright?" she asked again.
The girl looked up, eyes wide and glossy. Her lip trembled. "I... I was running… and then I was just here.... and I fell." She sniffled. "It hurts."
"What's your name?" Sollene asked, brushing a strand of hair from the girl's forehead. "Mine is Sollene."
The girl hesitated, hugging her arms around her legs. Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, but it carried through the strange forest like a chord striking a still bell.
"I-I'm Cress."