Alice laid in an unknown softness.

Eyes open, she found herself in a room. She didn’t remember the last time she saw one as fancy as that, even less sleeping in one. The sun crossed the closed curtains to embalm the place in crimson light. She had lived to see the morning.

It was no easy task to try and get up, Alice found out. The bed was very comfortable, with a feather mattress and pillow and a warm, heavy blanket. And even with the will to leave the comfort, a simple movement made her understand why she was covered in bandages under the light silk nightdress. A piece of clothing she did not recognize. Below her left breast, her flesh was ablaze. Even the idea of moving made the wound burn all over again, like the spear was still there. Her consciousness almost escaped once again as she bit her lips in pain.

It would take a while for her to start making sense of the events. She drifted in and out of conscience, remembering only flashes of the same room and a woman feeding her a viscous, bitter liquid. Her thoughts were primitive, mere tries of wanting to find out where she was. No matter how much she tried, there were no signs of it within her memories. She felt like some of the details tried to say something, but her reasoning was not strong enough to make sense of it. A divan couch, with cushions crimson as the curtains, was placed at one corner, opposite to a bucket and a wooden basin. A simple mahogany wardrobe was right beside the bed, before the entrance. There was a mirror on the wardrobe’s door, but Alice couldn’t catch a glimpse of it. Amidst a sea of images, she heard the voices of women and noise from the street. A faint smell of berries filled her nostrils.

Alice was certain about needing two things: something for the pain and something for the thirst that was almost ripping her throat apart. Doing her best to turn her head without getting another pain spike, she noticed a glass of water standing at the bedside table. Beside it, stood a small vial, containing a pale olive liquid. She reached for the water, but, as she grasped the cup, the wound screamed. Her arm retracted back in reflex and the sound of breaking glass ruptured the silence.

— Fuck — Alice stuttered.

There, in an unknown room, she was imprisoned once more. It had been a while. She remembered her first night at the abbey, crying in a cold, harsh bed. Thinking about what she had done to end up there. After regaining her freedom and wielding powers she didn’t even know existed, Alice had found the resolve to never let anyone put her in the same position again. Now, she laid still, held prisoner by her own failing body.

The door opened with a long creak.

A woman entered. She had her gray-blonde hair in two twirling ponytails and wore a shining black garb decorated by flowers. She carried a jar of water, but was no maid. Her face displayed some age, despite her body not doing so. Alice thought she could be old enough to be her mother.

— Heavens, you’re awake — the woman noticed Alice’s eyes going through her. She quickstepped towards the nightstand and stopped right before where the broken glass laid.

— I thought I had heard something… — she smiled and went the other way, getting right beside Alice. She placed her hand on Alice’s forehead and waved her hand in front of her eyes, analyzing the reaction.

— Well, you’re fine enough to stay awake, but it’ll be a while until you’re running around. I guess you’ve seen the thing in your chest.

Alice grumbled.

— We’ll talk, eventually. For now, keep resting. You have a long way ahead, focus on staying alive — the woman said.

— I’ll get something for you to call us. A handbell. Just ring it and I’ll summon a servant for you.

— Where am I? — Alice managed to ask.

The woman smiled.

— Doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is that you’re safe; away from whoever did this to you. Focus on resting. Someone will come to clean the mess and bring you a new cup. Could be a metal one, this time.

Keeping the smile, the woman left, leaving Alice by herself once again. She was at the woman’s mercy, and she knew she would curse every second of it.

Time in that room did not move as usual. The sun moved and the shadows walked away from it. At one point it was early morning and, in the blink of an eye, there was no more light. Whenever it was dark, music and chatter started to echo from the floor below. Men shouted and women laughed. The corridor outside the room became more agitated, and Alice could hear whispers coming from the walls. She had hazy fever dreams. In one, she was a girl ten years younger, walking down a dark corridor. At every locked door, she stopped and listened to whatever was behind it and heard the sounds of dance and debauchery. She tried opening them, but they were all locked. She tried knocking on them, but received no answer.

She went farther into the corridor, where the doors became scarcer and the shadows heavier. A strong smell filled her nostrils and her feet suddenly felt wet. The symphony of depravity turned into an ominous call of the void. Louder and louder became the deep humming, which seemed to blossom from the depths of darkness. She had been there before. And, nailed down by the hole on her body, she had come to revisit the tunnels below the city many times. Sometimes she ran, sometimes she walked, trembling. Sometimes it started somewhere else, at the old Silvermoon Hall, at the abbey, but it always ended there. In the realm within the shadow.

Waking up, she found herself never able to remember what laid at the end of the tunnel. Each time, however, she felt less miserable in her present life. The pain faded. Her movements started to feel less restricted. Drinking the bedside water was easier.

The good-looking mistress never returned. After her visit, only a plain looking servant had come to give her the bitter medicine and refill the jar of water. They didn’t exchange words, even when the girl approached to dust the bedside table. Only their eyes met once in a while.

Soon enough, the pain was tamed enough for Alice to try more audacious movements. Waking up in a pale morning, slightly bothered by the faint sunshine that landed on her eyes, Alice tried to raise her body and sit on the bed. Laying down for so long made her feel sewed to the bed; raising her torso was like ripping apart all the threads woven between her flesh and the bed sheets. A spike of pain surged below her breast and her whole body felt sore after such a long time of stillness. She would not lay down again. In a suffering torpor, she stood still. Her legs trembled and, as she supported her feet on the floor, she knew they lacked strength.

This ends today, she thought.

For hours, Alice fully immersed herself in her thoughts and memories, searching for the strength she knew she had. The Mistress had once awakened it, seeking to turn the frail, meek girl into a Maiden of Desire. Once, she had told Alice:

— Not all of man and woman carry most of the sources we can draw power from. Duty, honor, pride, love, will. Only the distinguished, nurtured from a young age will find these within themselves. You do not have any. — She remembered the Mistress’ smile as she said it. — However, there is a source that any of us can harness. It is a destructive one, a double-edged sword that causes as much harm to the user as to the target. It is also the source with the most potential. It can last years, maybe even entire generations. Once burned in the soul, it can hardly go away.

— Hatred. Once you find it, once you feed its fire, it surges. It takes over. Not even the most honorable man can fight against the hatred inside him, if its seed lays there. Hatred takes us to places that we would not dare to go, makes us choose the choices that we would never consider. Once your hatred has blossomed, all that matters is the destruction of whatever is on the other side of your fury.

There had been such hatred inside Alice, and time only fed the fire even more. They took everything from her once. When she started to build a new life from the ashes of her past, they came back to take it again. The Maidens of Desire were no more. The words of the Mistress would never become more than memories.

They called it the Heartfire Armor, Alice remembered. A basic willpower sorcery, it numbed pain and made their skin scalding hot. It was a suffocating sensation, and her blood seemed to boil under her skin. Still, the weakness from her legs was gone. The piercing pain from her chest turned into a faint itch. After unending days of haze and shadowy dreams, Alice stood on her feet.

She faced the wardrobe’s mirror, which now had a full view of her. The image on the other side was one that Alice had not seen in a long time. A slim figure, of pale skin and short, messy hair as dark as the night. They had dressed her in a gentle pink camisole made of very light silk, so soft that she could barely feel its touch. Her eyes were the color of the skies before a storm. For long, her Moonfell features had remained hidden, a sealed secret that belonged to a past she did not want to live in. The Glamour Veil had failed, and that couldn’t be good.

Not even death can unbind a contract, she pondered. A black void filled the back of her mind. Sooner or later, Alice knew, she would have to find out more about that. Now, however, it was about wielding the luck that had kept her alive and assessing how she could rise from that situation.

She utilized the strength gained from the spell to walk around the room. There was not much of interest. Empty drawers and bookshelves. No clothes in the wardrobe. If anyone had lived there, they had left no traces of their stay. Only the smells of berries pervaded, a gentle touch of perfume that, like a fingerprint, declared the presence of someone there. Behind the curtains, the day was just starting. Workers went on their commute. Drunkards started their binge at whatever pub was open. While Alice had been imprisoned by her own body, life kept going. It was a weird feeling, knowing that the lack of your presence meant nothing to the world. There was no one out there wanting to know what happened to her. A lonesome kind of freedom.

While she stood by the window, footsteps approached from the corridor. Once again, it was the servant girl, bringing her a bowl of soup. She gasped after noticing the empty bed and almost let the tray fall to the ground.

— I’m here, — Alice signaled.

The girl walked one more step and turned to Alice with her mouth open and eyes widened. The day before, she could barely raise her hand. A night of sleep later she was fully standing, seemingly unfazed from her wounds. The servant’s shock was understandable.

— Lady, please… — she quickly stepped towards Alice, raising her hand to grab her. — You should be resting.

— No! Don’t touch me!

Alice’s warning ended up coming too late. While her scream made the girl shrink in her place, her hand did not stop. Their skins met, and one was scalding hot.

The tray went flying and the bowl of soup went the other way. The servant stepped back from the scare and tripped on a misplaced floorboard. Alice reacted in an instant, pulling the girl from the wrist. She quickly let go, but it was enough to leave a burn right where she grasped her arm. The steel tray made a sharp noise upon hitting the floor, and kept vibrating from the impact, but it was nothing compared to the loud shattering of the bowl, which ended up spreaded all over the room. Its contents flew in a close range, far enough to hit Alice and the servant.

The girl, trembling, stepped away from Alice. She held her burnt wrist and looked with confusion to it and to the burning hand. She didn’t understand. How could she?

They said no words. They could hear a slight commotion outside and steps coming towards the room. The Heartfire Armor started to fade down, both from its user’s lack of focus and her will to get normal before she scared somebody else. Immediately, a pain ran through her spine, sourced from the wound, still very much alive right beside her ribs. The burning blood on her legs cooled down, and a weakness took over. Her knees trembled and faltered. She tried supporting herself on the windowsill in anticipation of falling to the ground. She fell on her knees, right on top of the spilled soup.

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Through the open door, two other women came in. Wearing fine robes of silk similar to Alice’s camisole, they did not look like servants. They didn’t seem very keen to help either. While Alice tried to get up, unsuccessfully, and the servant was still processing the situation, they watched and whispered. Some time passed before the woman from before appeared, accompanied by another maid.

— Edith, take Millie downstairs. Then, come back with the cleaning equipment. — the woman ordered the girl beside her.

— You two, — she spoke towards the girls in robes — Go back to your rooms, nothing to see here.

They obliged without fare.

The woman did not waste time and walked towards Alice, who focused so much on not letting herself fall over entirely that she could not speak. Gently, the woman squatted and wrapped her arm around Alice’s back.

— Let’s get up. — With a single movement, both women stood up. Alice trembled, but where her strength faltered, the other woman provided support. Although the heat had mostly dissipated, Alice’s body was still hot. It seemed like a strong fever took over her.

— You’re burning. Let’s get you in the basin.

— I’m fine… — Alice said, without much faith in her own words.

— You’re burning and covered in soup. Here.

A basin full of water was right beside the window. It had a size good enough for an adult woman. The lady, whose identity Alice had a good idea of, supported herself on the wall and slowly let go of the girl, who stepped into the wooden basin. The water was at room temperature, but it was still relieving. First, only Alice’s legs were underwater. Slowly, she let her body slide into almost full submersion.

— You’re making the water dirty, — the woman told her. She approached the basin and dove into the waters with her hands. In a gentle gesture, she pinched both sides of Alice’s now completely wet camisole and raised it along her body. She pulled the piece of clothing and placed it on the ground.

— Why are you doing this? — Alice asked.

The woman smirked.

— We got to look out for each other. I couldn’t just let you die on some cold street, — she said. — And if you were to die anyway, better to keep your corpse safe. I doubt the men here have some respect for Death.

— You are a strong one, — she continued. — The doctor we got to take a look at you doubted you’d survive. We stopped the bleeding and hoped for the best; you and the gods did the rest.

Alice looked at the woman.

— What is your name, may I ask?

— Maria.

— Lady Maria. Right, — Alice said. — I guess I’m in your debt.

Maria answered with a soft laugh. Alice had a closer look of the woman, free of the haziness of the previous days. She was indeed older, maybe born a couple of decades before Alice. Her hair, more silver-blonde than grayish, was held back in a ponytail, presenting the wholeness of her face. Although age had sculpted its details, the softness of her skin and firmness of her expression indicated the usage of the creams and potions that the richest ladies of the realm religiously used to combat aging. What truly caught Alice’s attention, however, were Maria’s eyes. Dark blue, of sapphire-like tone, it was them who gave her face’s composition its gentleness.

Like the other two women, she dressed in a robe. It was purple, a particular hue that screamed royalty. It was decorated by lines of bright gold. To keep the robe tight on her body, she used a leather belt, with a golden buckle.

— I’m not doing this in search of a reward. At least not the reward that a girl on the street could give me, — Maria said. — No offense.

Alice smiled.

— I get you. Well, may the gods reward you, then. Although, from what I can tell of this place, it seems like you’re in good fortune. If you are the madam of this… house, of course.

The lady bursted out laughing.

— It seems like you’re an observant one. Not that there was much attempt from us to hide our activities.

Two girls entered the room: the one called Edith and an unknown face. One carried a bucket filled with water and a mop. The other one had a towel and a white robe. They did not wait for orders. Immediately, Edith put the bucket on the floor and started to scour and dry the floor. The girl with the towel approached Maria and delivered it to her alongside the robe.

— Clean clothes for when you finish bathing, — Lady Maria told Alice.

— You can leave it on the bed. I’ll stay here for a while, — Alice said.

— It doesn’t appear to me that getting up is within your ability, — Maria countered. — I’ll help you get dressed when you’re finished.

Alice opened her mouth in protest, but gave up before saying anything.

For months, ever since she had escaped from an abbey in flames, Alice only knew life as prey. Not much more than a rat, crawling in the dark. There was no night that she didn’t stay alert, jumping at every noise until she was so tired that there was no option other than passing out. There was no glance from a guard that did not make her heart race, imagining that she finally got caught. The room was an unknown place, filled with unknown people. But right there, submerged in calm water, in her first bath in gods know when, she felt calm and safe. Almost vulnerable.

After cleaning up, the servants left. Once again, the pair was left alone. With a sponge that was beside the basin, Alice tried to scrub her back, only to feel a sharp pain in her wound that made her bite her inner lip. Without a word, Maria grabbed, without resistance, the sponge from her hand. Carefully, she started a movement at the back of the girl’s neck, without applying much force. In a light stroke, the sponge slid over Alice’s skin, running along her spine. Maria, holding the sponge near the girl’s waist, moved it a bit to the side and followed up with the opposite movement, reaching all the way up to the shoulders. She repeated until all her exposed skin had been covered. Then, she started it all over again, with a firmer grasp to scrub whatever filth remained. The sound of water filled the room, muffling their rhythmed breathings.

— That’s enough, — Alice said after almost half an hour.

She held on to the basin to try and get up. With Maria’s help, she got out of it and covered herself in the towel. Maria quickly picked up a chair for her to sit on and helped her get dry.

— Let me dry your hair. Your arms won’t have enough strength and I don’t want you catching a cold, — Maria said. Alice did not react to it, but made no effort to stop the lady from getting the towel.

After that, Maria called Edith once again and told her to bring the medical supplies. The two proceeded to change Alice’s bandages.

— Some work you made me do, — Maria said as she helped Alice to get in the bed, now dressed in the new white robe.

— Sorry for that, — Alice answered. — Will my debt be paid by working for you? I have no coin.

— As I’ve said, I’m not looking to collect any debts. I did what I did because, guess what, there’s some humanity in me despite the way I’ve chosen to live, — Maria said.

— What happened, anyway? How did you find me? — Alice asked.

— Now is not the time for this. We can have this conversation later, when you’re feeling better, — Maria said.

— I’m better right. Better than I was yesterday, and definitely better than I was when I got here, — Alice said.

They faced each other for a moment. Maria couldn’t contest the resolution in Alice’s eyes. That girl, who she took care of and didn’t know anything about, who could’ve been a little lost in life, definitely knew what she wanted. And not for a moment she would let that wound stop her.

— Fine, I’ll tell you. But you’ll rest afterwards, okay? You’re still not recovered and you’ve already made a little mess today.

Alice smiled.

— Won’t you want to hear my side of the story? I bet you’re curious. The girls that were on the door too.

— We’ll leave those questions for later, when we get some color back into your face.

— Alright, — Alice chuckled. — Tell me and I won’t bother you anymore, For today, that is.

Maria raised her eyes and looked at the ceiling, seemingly recollecting the events.

— Let me see… It was late at night, when movement around here was at its height. During our working hours, we usually got some girls in the front. Mostly to call attention. People gotta know the quality of our service. The night we found you, Flora was one of these girls. She told me that a drunk guy started to tease her, said he had coin for her if she blew him on the alley beside the building. The guy started to get violent. Dragged her by the arm into the alley. His fun didn’t last long, though. The other girl that was with Flora quickly called Fletcher, our big guy, who dealt with him. It was then that the three noticed something in the dark alley.

— Flora was the one that went forward. The lights from the street were just enough to let her see you, naked and bleeding on the floor. The girls were quick to react. Soon enough, Fletcher barged through the door, carrying you in his arms. Luckily for you, we had a vacant room and one of our regulars happened to moonlight as a doctor. The hole in you scared us for sure, but you kept fighting. As I’ve told you before, we managed to stop the bleeding, but no one was super optimistic for your life. Seems like you’re a fighter.

With interest in her eyes, Alice heard everything in silence. When Maria stopped talking, she asked:

— Did you guys look around the alley? Found anything?

— Yes… After things cooled down a bit, I asked Flora about how she found you, — Maria answered. — I went to the alley myself, alongside Fletcher. The whole thing had startled my curiosity.

— What did you find?

— Nothing. At least, nothing more than a trail of blood and rats and cockroaches. We followed the trail into the backstreet, but couldn’t find a single drop of blood to keep going after. We tried asking around, checking if someone had seen anything, people coming out of the alley, that sort of stuff. We mostly got shrugs.

That didn’t make sense, Alice thought. The events of that night mostly presented themselves to her as shards of memory, but she had a clear picture of getting into the alley fully clothed in the church’s white garb, and then ripping it apart, leaving it along the blood trail. Did the other soldiers go after her and get there too late, only finding the clothes of their dead captain? She doubted they would just silently clean the scene and go back to wherever they came from. The main street was full of people, for sure they would have gone there to bash some heads and ask questions.

— So that’s how you ended up here. Getting bathed by the madam of a brothel and scaring poor servants.

— Could have been worse. I could’ve been found in the alley besides a brothel with a harder mattress on the bed.

They shared a laugh. Maria got up.

— Now, rest well… — she smiled. — You know, I never asked your name, did I? I guess I was used to seeing you as the unknown, knocked-out girl. Now that I’ve got the chance to talk to you, I realized that you still didn’t have a name in my head.

— It’s… Anne. Name’s Anne.

— Then, rest well, Anne. You’ll be fine in no time.

The madam turned her back and walked towards the door. Alice stopped her right as she went through the frame.

— Sorry, Madam Maria, just one last thing. I understand that I have already abused too much of your goodwill. So, regarding my recovery, when I at least become able to walk again…

Maria turned again, facing Alice one more time and interrupting her.

— I have no plans to leave you where I found you, Anne, — she said. — I hadn’t given thought about telling you this yet, but I should if it is reassuring. Once you get better, there’s a place for you here. Nothing much, you’d be a kitchen aid. You’d mostly clean dishes, keep the kitchen organized and bake a pie now and then. Not the best coin either, but it would be an honest life. One to be proud about. The room would get a bit smaller, unfortunately.

Alice knew what went through her head. She hadn’t asked anything yet, but the way Alice was found didn’t leave much room for doubt. Not in the Windies. Some of them were lucky, had their own little room in a house like Maria’s. Had their own Fletcher. But most were on their own, walking alone under the cold night and accepting whatever coin came their way, didn’t matter from who. Sometimes the guy didn’t have the money he said had, or maybe just felt like being an asshole. With no protection, that’s how the girls awoke in the gutter, alive only if they were lucky. Alice’s lie was already halfway told, even without her speaking a word. And Lady Maria wanted to rescue her from it.

The girl smiled.

— I thank you, madam. You’ve definitely proven that you have a good heart and that you take good care of your own, — Alice said. — I appreciate your offer. An honest life of hard work… For me, that thought seemed long dead. However, it’s not anymore a life that I would find fulfilling. You see, I would not like to let my skills go to waste. If you need me to prove it, I will, but I guarantee you I’d be of better service as one of your whores.

— And whatever I can offer as one… It would be much better than any pie that I could ever bake.

Alice’s smile went from innocent gratitude to pure malice, taunting the woman who held her future.

— I wouldn’t like my room to get smaller, either.