Interlude A1.V

Nine Years Ago...

Magdalena wriggled in her chair, her small legs swinging back and forth beneath the table. The morning sun streamed through the tall windows of the sunroom, making the whole room feel warm with the golden light. The breakfast spread before her was just as lovely as every other morning, but today, Magdalena could barely eat. Her tummy felt like it was full of fluttering birds, too excited to sit still, let alone think about food.

Today was the day she had been anticipating for a long, long time.

She had been counting down the days for weeks now, ever since her mother told her that other children would be coming to Soulgrave House. Soulgrave House was her home. But it was also a lonely place. It had always been just her here—her, her parents, and the staff who worked quietly in the background. The manor was grand and beautiful, but its endless halls and high ceilings often made her feel small and lonely. The grounds were expansive and had a lot of hideaways she had long discovered, but with no one to share them with. She had always wished for someone her own age to talk to, to play with, and today that wish was finally coming true.

“Magpie, don’t let your eggs get cold,” her mother’s soft voice floated across the table, pulling Magdalena out of her thoughts. Lady Lada was sitting across from her, sipping tea from a delicate cup. Her mother was beautiful, with dark skin like Magdalena’s own, and eyes that always seemed to know everything. Her mother was from Uruth, and those knowing pale eyes were symbolic of that land just to the north of them. Magdalena wanted to be just like her when she grew up—graceful, kind, and confident. Magdalena’s eyes were her father’s—dark, like the surface of water on a cloudy night.

But right now, it was hard to sit still and eat her eggs when all she could think about was the children who were coming to Soulgrave. Magdalena set down her fork and looked up at her mother, her big, brown eyes full of questions. “Mother, where’s Father? Will he be there to meet the visitors with us?”

Her mother smiled, but it was a little sad around the edges, like she knew something Magdalena didn’t. Her parents knew a lot that she didn’t. “Your father is in his study, Magpie,” she said, her voice gentle. “He has important work to do, but I’m sure he’ll join us soon.”

Magdalena nodded, trying not to feel disappointed. The study was a mysterious place, hidden deep beneath the manor where the sunlight never reached. Magdalena wasn’t allowed down there, and though she had tried to imagine what it looked like, she could only think of dark corridors and the soft sound of her father’s voice talking to people she never saw. Magdalena had tried to sneak into her father’s study once, only to get lost in the winding halls that slept beneath Soulgrave House.

Just then, the door to the sunroom opened, and one of the attendants stepped inside. He looked very serious as he bowed to her mother. “My lady, guests have arrived.”

Magdalena’s heart skipped a beat, and she leaped from her chair, nearly knocking over her plate in her excitement. She barely heard her mother’s voice calling after her as she dashed out of the sunroom and down the long hallway, her feet slapping against the polished floor. She couldn’t wait to be the first to see who had come, to meet the children she had been dreaming about for so long.

She was so caught up in her excitement that she didn’t see the door open ahead of her until it was too late. Magdalena skidded to a stop just in time, nearly running straight into her father, who had appeared from one of the doors that led down to the basement. He was tall and serious, with a face that always seemed like it was thinking very hard about something important. Magdalena had to crane her neck to look up at him, her heart still pounding from her sprint.

“Magdalena,” her father said in that deep, quiet voice that made her feel small. “How many times have I told you not to run in the house?”

Magdalena bit her lip, her excitement deflating a little as she looked down at her feet. “Sorry, Father,” she mumbled, trying to sound properly sorry. She peeked up at him through her lashes and noticed that he was slipping a key on a chain into his waistcoat pocket. Her curiosity flared up again, but her father’s serious expression kept her from asking the questions buzzing in her mind.

“Remember what we’ve taught you,” he continued, his voice firm but not unkind. “These guests are very important, and you must behave like a proper young lady.”

Magdalena nodded quickly. “Yes, Father.” She straightened up, smoothing down her dress like she had seen her mother do so many times. She wanted to make her father proud, even if it was hard to keep all her excitement inside. He gave her a small nod, the kind that meant she had done something right, and then continued down the hall. Magdalena followed him, her earlier eagerness now mixed with a little bit of nervousness.

When they reached the front door, Magdalena peeked out from behind her father’s leg as he opened it. Her heart sank a little when she saw the figures standing there. They weren’t children at all.

The two visitors were strange and mysterious, their tall, cloaked figures almost like ghosts against the morning light. The taller one wore a black mask, smooth and shiny, carved into a face that wasn’t quite human. The shorter one, rounder and less scary, wore a red mask. It was just as strange, but the deep red made it look like it was alive, like it was breathing in the sunlight. Magdalena shivered, even though she wasn’t cold.

She felt her mother’s gentle hand on her shoulder, guiding her forward. “These are the Morduu, Magpie,” her mother whispered, her voice soft and careful. “Remember what I told you.”

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Magdalena nodded, her thoughts scrambling to remember everything her mother had said about the Morduin Order. They were powerful and important, though Magdalena wasn’t sure exactly why. All she knew was that they were people you had to be very polite to, and maybe a little bit afraid of.

Her father stepped forward, his voice smooth and proper as he welcomed the visitors. “Welcome to Soulgrave House. We are honored by the Morduin Order’s interest in our affairs.” He introduced her mother and then placed a firm hand on Magdalena’s shoulder. “And this is our daughter, Magdalena.”

Magdalena curtsied, just like she had been taught, her heart beating fast as she looked up at the masked figures. They were so strange, so different from anyone she had ever seen. The shorter one tilted their head in a way that made Magdalena think they were smiling, even though she couldn’t see their face. “We are pleased to be here,” the short masked figure said in a voice that was soft and a little bit sing-songy. It didn’t match their mask at all, which only made them more mysterious.

After a few more words, her father led the Morduu into a sitting room, leaving Magdalena and her mother behind. Lady Lada’s hand was still on Magdalena’s shoulder, and she gently steered her away. “Come, Magpie. Let’s leave your father to his work.”

Magdalena cast one last look over her shoulder as they walked away, her curiosity buzzing like a beehive. The Morduu were strange, yes, but they weren’t the children she had been waiting for. Where were the children?

As the day went on, more guests arrived, and Magdalena’s heart fluttered with excitement each time the door opened. Finally, her patience was rewarded. Two older gentlemen arrived with three children in tow, and Magdalena could barely contain her excitement. The two men seemed to be officials of some kind—at least, they reminded Magdalena of the other government men her father hosted in the past. But they didn’t interest her. There were two boys and a girl, all looking around with wide, nervous eyes. They all seemed older than her, but only by a year or two. The Olenish boy and girl had dark skin and hair like hers, and the other boy had skin like gold and thin, bright, emerald-green eyes that seemed to see everything.

Magdalena wanted to run up to them, to introduce herself and ask a million questions, but when she tried, the children seemed shy and unsure. They glanced at each other, not quite ready to talk, and Magdalena felt a little pang of disappointment. Her mother kept her close, smiling gently but not letting her wander too far. Magdalena felt a bit like a bird on a leash, eager to fly but kept firmly in place. This was not at all how she had imagined the scene playing out. When would she be able to show the other children the hideaways she’d discovered on the manor’s grounds?

And then, just when Magdalena thought she might burst from holding in so much excitement, another guest arrived. This time, it was a girl—about Magdalena’s age—and she was like no one Magdalena had ever seen. The girl was taller than Magdalena, with pale skin that almost shimmered in the sunlight. Her hair flowed down her back like a waterfall of pink rose petals, and her eyes were a deep, glowing green. Magdalena stared at her, entranced by the freckles that dotted her cheeks and the serious expression on her face. The girl was like a storybook princess, but one who seemed to take everything very, very seriously.

The girl was accompanied by a tall, broad-shouldered woman with pale white skin and short blond hair. The woman was so tall and strong-looking that Magdalena couldn’t help but feel a little bit small in comparison (even for a child of seven). The woman even towered over her mother. She must be a giant, Magdalena thought. But it was the girl who truly captivated her, with her strange, calm presence and those glowing eyes.

Soon, everyone gathered outside in the fields beside the manor. Magdalena’s father had set up a big tent for shade, with comfortable chairs and a table full of delicious snacks and cool drinks. The adults talked and talked, using big words that Magdalena didn’t understand. Every now and then, her father would say something about her, but it was always in a way that made her feel like she was a piece of paper with numbers on it, rather than a person. Rather than his own daughter.

Magdalena wasn’t really paying attention, though. She was too busy watching the other children and wondering what they were thinking. Were they as bored as she was? Her thoughts were interrupted when one of the older gentlemen said something that made her father’s face grow stern. He turned to Magdalena, calling her over.

“Magdalena,” he said, “we’re going to play a game. A race, to the edge of the forest and back. You, and the boy and that girl.” He gestured to the Olenish boy and girl who had arrived with the two official-looking gentlemen.

Magdalena’s heart leaped. A race! She loved running, loved the way the wind felt in her hair and the ground under her feet. Her father and mother often gave her different games that involved being fast or strong, or quick-witted. She lined up with the other two children, her bare toes digging into the soft grass.

When her father gave the signal, Magdalena shot forward like a little brown bird whizzing through the air, her legs pumping as fast as they could go. She ran with everything she had, feeling the world blur around her as she reached the edge of the forest. Turning around, she sprinted back, her breath coming in quick gasps. When she crossed the finish line, she was panting, but a huge smile spread across her face. She had won!

As she caught her breath, the boy with the narrow, green eyes frowned. “I’m the fastest,” he said, crossing his arms. “I should’ve raced. I would have won!”

Before Magdalena could say anything, the girl with the rose-champagne hair stepped forward. “I’ll race you,” she said in a calm, serious voice that made her seem so much older than she was.

Her tall guardian said nothing, just watched quietly, while one of the gentlemen nodded, giving the boy permission to race. The pink-haired girl slipped off her sandals and positioned herself on the starting line, her bare feet light on the grass.

Magdalena sat down on the soft ground, her eyes wide as she watched them get ready. She could feel something different about this race, something special.

When the race started, Magdalena could hardly believe what she was seeing. The girl with the pink hair was so fast, so graceful, she seemed to glide over the ground. She was a blur of movement, her feet barely touching the grass as she ran. Pale heels flicking over the surface, like silver light. The boy was fast too, faster than Magdalena, but he couldn’t keep up with the pink haired girl. The girl was so quick, crossing the finish line far ahead.

Everyone clapped, their hands making soft applause sounds in the warm afternoon air. Magdalena found herself clapping too, her earlier disappointment forgotten. She couldn’t stop staring at the girl, who was standing there with that same calm expression, as if winning had been the most natural thing in the world. She hadn’t broken a sweat and her breathing was steady and calm.

Magdalena’s attention was so fixed on the girl that she barely noticed the hushed conversation between her father and one of the Morduu. She heard something about “the Testing,” but the words floated away as soon as she heard them. She was too busy watching the girl.