chapter 2
1150 Words
Silvia forced herself to sit up. Her neck didn’t like that at all. She felt a sharp ache right away. She closed her eyes and let the dizzy feeling fade, then swung her legs down. Her feet met the stone floor.
Freaking Cold. Not just chilly, but a deep cold that sank straight in.
“No shoes. Great.”she thought as she scanned the floor. Standing made everything look different. Shadows danced across stone walls, thanks to the crackling fire. No light switch. Just flames and candle wax.
She walked over to the window. Darkness beyond the iron lattice. Trees rustling out there. Wind moving through the branches. And the stars, so many of them, way more than she was used to seeing. They looked almost wrong, too big, almost threatening. She glanced back from the window, uneasy. The chair by the table looked ancient. A ceramic bowl sat untouched on the hearth. Tapestries, knights, noblewomen hung along the wall, faded and stiff.
Silvia felt something crawl up her spine.Her chest tightened slowly.
Don't panic. Not yet.
As if what was happening was not enough, the door swung open almost immediately.
The woman who entered froze when she saw Silvia. Deep green dress hugging her waist, sleeves draping over her hands. Hair pinned up with lace. Candle in one hand, bowl in the other.
“Mary, darling, I thought I heard..” She lifted her gaze and almost dropped the bowl.
“Mary.”
*Who the hell is Mary?*
Silvia tried to speak. Words failed her.
The woman crossed the room fast and put the candle down. Silvia barely had time to react before warm hands were framing her face.The woman’s fingers were rough from years of work
“Your eyes are open,” she whispered, voice cracking. “Praise be.”
*My name’s not Mary.*
The idea flashed through Silvia’s mind, but the way this woman looked at her like she’d lost her once and just got her back kept Silvia quiet.
“Can you hear me?” The woman’s tone was careful, her vocabulary was old-fashioned. “Mary. Do you know where you are?”
Silvia stayed quiet.Talking suddenly felt dangerous. One wrong word and everything might fall apart. Relief in the woman’s face drained to worry. Still holding Silvia, she raised her voice to the hallway. "Edmund, get the physician. Now."
"Is she awake?" Edmund's voice came from the corridor.
"Now, Edmund. Please.”
Footsteps rushed off. The woman turned back to Silvia. All her composure was gone. She held Silvia’s hand and led to bed.
“What happened to you?” she asked, searching Silvia’s face. “Before we found you, Mary, do you remember anything? Anything at all?”
Before.
A graveyard, rain falling. Red light. Dead car engine. A truck coming too fast. Her father’s name on a headstone. An aunt who always knew how to hurt her
“Do you remember?” The woman was barely more than a whisper now.
The door opened. An older man stepped in first, broad shoulders, serious expression. Something flickered across his face when he saw her.
The physician followed, carrying a battered leather bag. He moved calmly, like it wasn’t his first emergency. He set the bag down by the bed and studied her.
“Lady Mary,” he said gently, like he’d said it a thousand times. The words sat wrong in her chest. They really thought she was someone else.
“I need to examine you, if you’ll allow it.”
“Lay down.” She had no choice. He got to work without fuss. Checked her pulse. Looked into her eyes. Pressed her forehead.
“Follow the light.”
Silvia did all of it without speaking. The only sounds were the fire and the physician’s movements. Mary’s mother stood by the bed beside the other man, arms tight against her chest. Finally, the physician straightened from his work.
"There is no injury I can find. Her colour has returned. Her pulse is stronger now.”He paused. "What she endured is not uncommon. Sometimes the body chooses darkness over waking after great suffering.”
He uncorked a small, dark vial.
“Just a few drops,” he said gently. “It shall help her rest.”
Mary’s mother moved from her position, slipping an arm behind Silvia’s shoulders to help her sit up slightly.
“Slowly, darling.” The cup hovered near Silvia’s lips. She stared at it for a second too long. Her gaze lifted briefly toward the physician then toward the woman holding her like she might break again. If they wanted to hurt her, they already could have. Slowly, Silvia took a sip. The bitterness hit first. Then warmth spread through her chest. Mary’s mother watched her, holding the cup steady.
“Rest now.” Her hand brushed gently through Silvia’s hair. “Nothing is so pressing it can’t wait.”
Silvia froze. That’s exactly what she told her dad. The memory struck her. She eased herself back down on the bed.The room grew fuzzy.
Across the room, the physician quietly packed the remaining bottles back into his leather bag. The older man beside Mary’s mother placed a hand on her shoulder, guiding her out of the room as if afraid she would not leave.
“She needs sleep now,” the man beside her said softly. Mary’s mother nodded immediately, covering Silvia with the bedsheet though her eyes never left Silvia’s face. The physician offered one last look before leaving the chamber with Mary’s parents. The heavy door closed behind them with a low sound.
Only the crackling fire remained.
Warmth spread deeper through Silvia’s body. Her arms felt heavy. Then her legs.
Silvia wanted to ask questions. Too many questions but exhaustion dragged harder. And somewhere between one breath and the next, an old memory surfaced.
Rain dotted the pavement under the streetlights. Silvia stood in front of a penthouse, keys in one hand, groceries in the other. An old woman stood nearby. Silvia could swear she hadn’t been there a moment ago. Small. Dressed in dark layers, even though it was warm. Her eyes caught the lamplight strangely.
“Doom is coming for you, child.”
Silvia paused. Not because she believed it. The woman just sounded genuinely sad.
“I’m sorry? Do you need help?”
“The past is coming for you,” the old woman said laughing, never looking away. “It’s been waiting a very long time.”
Silvia gave that polite little smile people use to escape awkward conversations.
“Okay thanks. I should really get going.”
“You won’t remember this when you need it,” she went on, her voice becoming inaudible now. “But your blood will remember what..”
The memory slipped out of focus. Rain. Streetlights. The old woman’s mouth was moving.
No sound.
Gone.
- Writer
