The mornings in the church grounds always arrived before the sun.
Dew gathered like glass tears on the edges of cracked stone paths, and the bell in the chapel tower rang once not to wake the children, but to remind them that sleep was a mercy granted briefly.
Inside the dormitory, breath misted in the cold air. Outside, the faintest fingers of dawn filtered through gray clouds and ash-colored trees. Mist clung to the earth like something reluctant to leave, curling between the worn sandals of children heading toward their chores.
But not everyone walked with the same weight.
Some carried guilt.
Some carried silence.
And a few carried something that hadn't yet been named.
Elyom's POV
The frost made everything crackle underfoot. It reminded me of bones.
I tried not to think about that.
Kenny walked beside me, hugging his bucket like it might run away. His breath puffed out in short, annoyed clouds.
"Why do we always get the outer well?" he grumbled. "Is it because you talked back to Father Vauren that one time?"
I gave him a dry look. "I didn't talk back."
"You didn't bow either."
"…Fair."
He chuckled, then tripped slightly on a stone. I caught the bucket before it spilled.
"You've got to stop dragging your feet."
"And you've got to stop catching me before I embarrass myself. Let me suffer a little," he smirked.
It was easy, this rhythm we had now. Chores were still hard. The days still long. But Kenny was a constant, and I found myself anchoring to him more than I expected.
Not because I needed him.
But because I trusted him.
That was rarer.
And we weren't alone anymore.
Other kids had started to… shift.
They didn't talk to me yet not fully but they weren't avoiding me either. One of the older boys, Malrik, even helped us lift a broken bench the other day. Another boy Malcom, had begun to nod in greeting during mealtime.
Small things.
But real.
Like the beginnings of a bridge built stone by careful stone.
There was something changing.
Not just in them.
In me.
When I meditated in the early hours, the warmth in my chest centered around the locket lingered longer. Sometimes my fingertips tingled without cold. Sometimes the shadows bent just slightly too far when I walked past the chapel windows.
I hadn't told Kenny.
Not all of it.
But I could tell he noticed something. He wasn't asking out loud, but he stayed closer than usual. Kept glancing over his shoulder like he expected something to happen.
And he wasn't wrong.
Because I wasn't afraid anymore.
Of what I might be.
Of what I might become.
But I was afraid of what the others would do when they realized it too.
I lifted the bucket onto the ledge of the well and paused, blinking.
A figure in the distance.
Dark robes.
Half-concealed behind the east chapel arch.
Not moving.
Just watching.
Sister Catherine.
She didn't flinch when I looked directly at her.
She just… stared.
Not in disapproval.
Not quite in interest either.
Something colder.
Calculating.
I looked away quickly, heart thumping for reasons I couldn't explain.
She'd been around more lately.
More than she used to be.
And always near me.
She wasn't cruel. Never raised her voice. Never struck anyone.
But her presence made the air shift. Made my breath go tight.
I didn't know what she wanted.
But I could feel it wasn't simple concern.
She knew something.
Or she was waiting to.
Back inside, Kenny and I finished our morning duties without trouble. Sister Catherine had disappeared from view, but I felt her eyes the way you feel a storm long before it breaks.
That night, after evening prayer, Kenny dragged his blanket closer to mine.
Just enough that our hands touched beneath the scratchy linen.
He didn't say anything.
Didn't need to.
And in that moment, the stone walls didn't feel so cold.
The locket pulsed once, soft and warm against my chest.
And I knew
Whatever was coming, I wouldn't be facing it alone.
Not anymore.
With that i let the sleep embrace me.
Dreamscape
The world came softly without sound, without warning.
Gone were the cold walls of the dormitory, the scratchy blankets, the slow breath of sleeping boys. Elyom stood not in shadow, but in light.
A gentle wind stirred tall grass around him, golden under a sky the color of soft fire. The ground beneath his bare feet was warm. Familiar. A field of white flowers surrounded him blooming lilies, like the ones his mother loved.
And there she was.
Kneeling beside a crooked fence, sleeves rolled, hair falling loose from its braid. The sun painted her in gold. Her hands were dirt-smudged from planting, yet her smile… it outshone the sky.
"Elyom," she said gently, brushing a leaf from her lap. "You're upset."
He blinked.
Looked down.
He was younger no more than six. His cheeks were flushed, fists clenched.
"There was a boy," he said, voice small. "He broke the jar in class. Then he blamed me. Everyone believed him."
His mother didn't scold or sigh.
She just held out her hand, and when he didn't take it, she reached for his cheek instead brushing his skin with the pad of her thumb.
"Do you want me to tell you something hard?" she asked.
He nodded once.
Her voice lowered, calm and clear:
"Don't judge someone by what they do... not right away. Because actions can lie."
He frowned. "But lying is bad."
"It is. But not all lies are born from cruelty. Some are born from fear. From pain. From not knowing how to be brave."
She tucked his hair behind his ear.
"Intent matters," she said softly. "What was in the heart when the wrong was done that's where truth hides."
He was quiet, thinking.
"What if they really meant to hurt me?"
"Then you protect yourself. But still… you don't let that pain turn you into someone else. You don't let someone else's darkness decide your light."
She touched the center of his chest.
"Kindness is the strongest kind of power, Elyom. And forgiveness… is how we make sure we don't lose ourselves."
He leaned into her arms as she drew him close, her warmth wrapping around him like a promise.
And there, among lilies and sunlight, she whispered the last thing before the dream faded:
"Let your heart see clearly, my love not just your eyes."