We continued our stroll through the city, a strange and silent procession. My father walked ahead with the twins and the four children, while my mother walked beside me. Our first destination was a boutique, a grand establishment with a large glass window. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of perfume. My mother and Ophelia were instantly changed, descending upon the clerks. My father, with the weary acceptance of a man who had been through this many times before, found a bench and sat down.
I had no interest in the beautiful, expensive clothes. I joined my father on the bench, with Adel and Lady Octavi still attached to my hands.
I was more surprised about Lady Octavi, who usually wore a knight's dress more like a man's attire than a woman's attire. Did she have an interest in clothes?
"Lady Octavi, are you not interested in dresses or clothes?" I asked her.
"I am not that interested in that, and I am more interested in you, my lady," she answered.
"Right..." I turned my gaze to Adel. "How about you, Adel? Are you not interested?"
"Like Lady Octavi, I am more interested in you, my lady…than clothes…"
"Right...".
I saw Father beside Adel, giggling, which made me turn my gaze to him.
"How about Father? Are you not interested too?"
"Like Adel and Lady Octav..." It seemed he tried to hold on without giggling with a cool face. "Father is more interested in you than clothes..." Father was giggling in the end.
I felt teased by all of them … And I saw Mother from a distance; she was walking toward me with a woman beside her …
After Mother was in front of me with a woman beside her, "What are you doing sitting in here, Aurelia?" she said.
"I am just sitting with Father..."
Father was still emitting small giggles; Mother turned a small gaze to him, and immediately Father stopped it …
"You will not sit here. You will come with me and this lady. She is going to help you find some suitable dresses."
"But Mother," I said, holding up my captive hands, "how am I supposed to try on dresses like this?"
"There are no excuses, Aurelia. You will come."
Adel and Lady Octavi stood, pulling me to my feet. I was dragged to a corner of the store where a large mirror and a small seating area had been set up. My mother sat like a queen holding court, while the owner and three of her workers descended upon me. They measured me, their hands quick and impersonal. Then, they brought out an entire row of dresses.
I was dressed and undressed like a doll, with Adel and Lady Octavi awkwardly switching hands to accommodate the workers. After each dress, the curtains would be pulled back, and I would be presented to my mother. After a few dresses, my audience grew. My father, the twins, and the four children all gathered to watch. I stood before them, a silent, beautiful object on display, while they sat and ate snacks from a small table that had been brought for them.
After what felt like an eternity, it was ended. I was allowed to sit at the small table with my father. Adel lifted a cup of tea to my lips as if I were an infant, and I drank. It was then that the twins approached. They stopped before my chair, hands clutched behind their backs.
"Sister... Aurelia," Aurelio began, his voice small. They exchanged a look, and Ophelia nodded. They brought their hands forward in unison. In Ophelia's palm was a delicate white hairpin, and in Aurelio's, a necklace with a single, milk-white gem.
"These are for you," Ophelia said.
"As our apology," Aurelio finished. "We hope you can forgive us."
Their earnest faces and their simple, heartfelt offering were a break in the cold façade of the day. A wave of warmth spread through my chest, and I had the sudden, desperate urge to reach out, to pat their heads and pull them close. But my hands were still captive.
I turned my head to Adel. "Put your hand on Aurelio's head," I commanded softly.
She obeyed, gently ruffling his hair.
"And hers."
Adel moved her hand to Ophelia's head.
"As you can see," I said, my voice thick with emotion, "your sister is very happy. So happy that she has to borrow a hand to show it."
Their faces broke into relieved smiles. Forgetting all decorum, they threw their arms around my waist, their small bodies pressing against me in a fierce, forgiving hug. For the first time all day, I felt something real. The comfort of their small bodies was an anchor in the swirling confusion of the day. I saw my mother's shoulders relax, a genuine smile gracing her lips.
But as the moment stretched, a strange tickle started in the back of my throat. I tried to swallow it down, gently pulling away from the twins. I opened my mouth to say something reassuring, but all that came out was a small, dry cough.
"Are you alright, darling?" my mother asked, her smile faltering into a frown of concern.
I nodded, trying to force a smile. "I am alright, Mother…" but another cough seized me, this one deeper, wetter. I raised a hand to my mouth, and when I pulled it away, it was stained with a horrifying, brilliant crimson. Blood.
A collective gasp went through everyone. The world began to tilt, the boutique's opulent decor smearing at the edges of my vision. The gilded mirrors warped, reflecting a room that was no longer a boutique but a simple space with plain walls. My mother's face, contorted in terror, melted into the features of a strange woman I didn't know. The man, my father, who was rushing toward me was a stranger.
"Let go of me!" I tried to scream as the strange man scooped me into his arms. I struggled against him, but his grip was like iron. He carried me through the now-unfamiliar store, past racks of strange, drab clothes. Through the large glass window, the crowd of onlookers were now dressed in the same odd, thick garments.
He carried me towards the entrance, towards the strange, boxy metal carriages I now saw instead of our own. The world dissolved into a dizzying blur of motion and panicked, muffled shouts that sounded like gibberish in my ears. As the darkness closed in, the last thing I felt was a deep and terrifying sense of being taken away.
I was adrift in a black. Silent sea. occasionally pulled toward the surface by fragmented sounds. I heard my mother's voice. High and frantic. Shouting my name. I felt the strong, steady arms of my father carrying me, his hurried footsteps echoing on the stone pavement. There was the creak of a carriage door and the familiar scent of worn leather before I was plunged back into the depths.
Time became meaningless. Was it minutes or hours? Another sound broke through the haze. The small. Frightened whispers of the twins. Their voices laced with tears. I felt their tiny hands desperately clutching mine, a gentle, trembling touch on my forehead. Even in the darkness, I could feel their worry, a stark and painful contrast to the anger I had shown them only moments before. Then, nothing. The soft sheets of my own bed were a final, fleeting sensation before the silence took me completely.
When I woke again, it was with a gasp, not in the familiar comfort of my room, but in a place I had never seen before. It was small and quiet, the walls a plain, plain white. The bed beneath me was softer than any I had ever felt, covered with a warm, fluffy blanket. There were no grand wardrobes or vanity tables here; only a simple wooden desk and a chair. On the desk sat a strange, plush doll that looked like a bear and a slim, white box with a symbol of a half-eaten fruit on it.
Confused, I pushed myself out of bed and walked toward the desk, my bare feet sinking into a soft carpet. I bumped the desk, knocking the bear to the floor. As I picked it up, I was struck by how incredibly soft it was, unlike any doll I'd ever touched. Holding the bear to my chest, I opened the desk drawer. Inside, there were no cosmetic jars, only strange, thin objects and writing implements I didn't recognise.
My gaze returned to the white box. Hesitantly, I touched the symbol on its surface. Instantly, the box lit up with a brilliant light, displaying a vivid painting of a calm ocean. A row of smaller symbols below it glowed with white colour. It was brighter than any candle, as it was like a self-contained star.
The door opened, and a woman in a stark white robe rushed toward me. It was the strange woman from my vision in the boutique. She grabbed my shoulders, her face inches from mine, speaking in an urgent, nonsensical language. Her words were gibberish, her expression a mask of worry.
As my vision blurred once more, her face melted away, reforming into the familiar, concerned features of my mother. The room around me warped back into place—I was in my own bedroom at home. My parents in front of me, their faces pale with shock. I looked down at my hands. They were covered in blood, and I wasn't holding a soft bear doll. Instead, the shattered, blood-stained remains of a porcelain vase lay on the floor at my feet.
"What happened?" I asked, my voice a hoarse whisper.
Sofia walked towards me as my mother walked back, kneeling to wipe the blood from my hands with a handkerchief, looked up at me, her eyes filled with a grave pity. "That is the question I was hoping you could answer, my lady."