"Of course, of course," the man replied, "I won't bother you much longer. It's just... we've received a lot of help from the Beastlands. Your army's invasion of our town saved us. The Vraynian army, they occupied us for a long time. They took our food and forced themselves on our women. They said it was their right because they were protecting us. Anyone who stood up to them was executed for treason. So, even if you're just passing through, if there's anything we can do for you, please don't hesitate to ask."

He gave us a quick bow and walked away. I realized belatedly that he'd forgotten to introduce himself. As soon as he'd gone, the townsfolk went back to what they were doing, though many were still watching us. I tugged impatiently at Andrian's sleeve. I'd seen enough and wanted to get out of the town square before anyone else approached us.

However, someone else approached us just as we were leaving the square. Just as we were about to leave, an elderly woman whom I recognized as the wife of the bakery owner followed us. She waved an arm as she approached.

"Wait, please, just for a moment," she called to us. The horses halted and we turned to face her. "You, you're the young man from before, aren't you?" she asked Andrian as he looked down at her from his horse.

"Yes, I am, and you're the baker's wife, Olha." Even though I wasn't looking at him, I could tell that Andrian was smiling at her as he spoke. "Olha, who makes the best steamed buns in all of Vrayna, right?"

The old lady beamed and replied, "You've got that right! Why don't you boys come over and have a drink before you go? The lady is welcome too, of course." Olha winked at Luxania and tittered to herself before looking up at me. "And that must mean you're Simona's boy. It's ten years too late now, but I'm so sorry about what happened to that dear girl. I'm glad your friend here was able to find you and bring you home."

"Ah, I'm sorry Olha, but we won't be stopping today," Andrian declined her offer, scratching his head awkwardly. "We're really just passing through on our way home."

Olha didn't try to hide her disappointment, but said she understood. As we were about to turn and leave, I touched Andrian's arm to stop him. The idea of taking Andrian to the bakery I used to go to with my mother suddenly sounded more appealing than I'd expected. The promise of steamed buns for an afternoon snack was hard to resist, and maybe it would be good to see the old baker, too. He and his wife were always kind to us when we visited. I'd thought I didn't want any chance reunions, but this one felt like a good one.

"It seems we'll be imposing on you after all," Andrian informed her after confirming my intentions. Olha seemed delighted with this. She showed us where we could tie up the horses and quickly led us toward the bakery before we could change our minds.

"I make five kinds of buns every day," she nattered away to no one in particular as she herded us through the square, "I make fruit, jam, custard, vegetable, and one with meat. The flavors change daily, so there's always something new to try. Today I've got pear fruit, whistleberry jam... oh, I think we're out of custard, but there are mushroom buns left, and ones with roast chicken and carrots. And of course there's my husband's bread and pastries. His herb bread is as famous as my buns."

She led us into the bakery and I hesitated at the door when I saw the place was full of people. I was overwhelmed with a sense of familiarity as I took in my surroundings. A counter with a glass display for the cakes and artisanal pastries, shelves stacked with fresh loaves of bread, and of course, the steamer that housed Olha's famous buns. My mouth watered at the delicious smells that permeated the air. The seating area was just as I remembered it, with a long wooden bar and stools along the back wall, and four small tables between the bar and the counter.

A hush fell over the bakery as Olha led us inside. She was oblivious to everything and continued talking as if we were the only people there. "Now you go get a table and I'll bring you all a nice collection of everything. It's all on the house, so don't worry about the price. Ernie! We've got some special guests!" she called to her husband as she bustled off the kitchen behind the counter. We walked to the only open table in the corner. There were only four seats, but Shidah was a little too big for the small chairs anyway. He grabbed a stool from the bar and sat against the wall, where he could observe the whole bakery without having to turn his head.

The folks at the other tables had all given up on their conversations and were openly watching the table of beastmen. For the most part, they just seemed to be curious about the table of non-human strangers. I could understand how they felt. All their lives, they had been led to believe that the beastmen on the other side of the borderland were hostile and dangerous, yet it was those very beastmen who had freed them from the oppression of their own soldiers. And now there was a group of beastmen sitting with them in their small town bakery. At least there was no hostility like there had been at the engagement banquet.

Olha soon reappeared with a whole tray of buns and pastries, which she used to cover our small table. She made a point of serving us personally, offering us drinks and explaining the various pastries she'd brought. Once everyone was taken care of, she borrowed a chair from the table next to us and sat down. As she chatted comfortably with us, the attention of the other patrons soon returned to what they were doing.

Luxania and Estra were happy to chat with her about whatever came to Olha's mind, and I was able to take in my surroundings and eat something delicious. By sheer coincidence, both of the items I used to order with my mother were served; a steamed bun with whistleberry jam and a flaky pastry filled with almond butter and topped with a sweet glaze. I quickly took one of each and looked at Andrian with a smile. I cut the steamed bun in half and pushed half of it to him with a nod. He ate his half in one bite and I enjoyed watching his face light up as he tasted it. I ate my half in a few bites before cutting the almond pastry to repeat the process.

I used to share the same table and the same food with my mother once upon a time... It's a shame she can't be here with us now. Now that I think about it, I never told her about my secret visits to the Beastlands. I wonder how she'd have felt knowing that I'd snuck across the borderland to visit a beastman and his cub. More than that, I wonder how she'd feel about me marrying that cub, who's neither human nor female. I think she would have liked Andrian anyway. I want to believe that my mother would've been happy for us.

Andrian gained his human form the same summer I was taken. He said he'd already bonded with me then, so if I could have gone back one more time, would he have told me his feelings? How would I have reacted then? I found myself daydreaming about all the things that could have been. I imagined how it would have felt to fall in love with Andrian without all the trauma and the rush. If things had been different, would we have spent our lives together until now? I wondered what it would have been like to introduce him to my mother.

I sat in my seat for a while, lost in thought. Eventually, I realized that all the treats were gone and it was time for us to leave. I was glad that we had stopped at the bakery. It was nice to rest and dwell on only pleasant thoughts for once. I felt as refreshed as I had after my first few nights under Estra's treatments.

The town of Rovette was soon behind us, and we passed the stable where I'd worked that summer. I wonder what happened to the three copper coins I earned. Those bastards probably stole them from me too. After the stable, we passed the side path that led to the river where I often bathed on my way home from town. After the river, the next fork in the road was where we would turn off to go to my former home.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

At my urging, we halted where the path diverged, and I looked toward the wooded path that would take me back to the beginning. The other path, the one that led directly to the Beastlands, called out to me, reminding me that I could just pass by and forget about going home. The path to the house looked as ominous as it had that night. I could feel Andrian behind me, his warmth against my back reminding me that I was safe now. Whatever horrors lay down that path had already happened and they couldn't hurt me anymore.

We took the fork and rode down the forest path in the direction of my old house. On horseback, it only took minutes before we were in the clearing where my childhood home still stood. The front yard had become overgrown over the years and the grass and weeds had grown to almost waist high. My small childhood house sat in the middle of this overgrown yard, neglected for the past ten years. Was it always this small? I wondered, or have I just gotten used to the oversized homes of the nobles?

I dismounted from my horse and began to look around. My companions stood back and watched without interfering. I walked up to the front door of the house and saw that it had been left open by a crack. The door had once been painted red, but now it was rough wood with an occasional red streak to hint at its former color. The crack in the door gave me the feeling that someone was waiting for me inside. My heart pounded as I reached forward and pushed the door open, half expecting to be grabbed from behind.

With a loud creak, the door swung open and the small house filled my vision. The main room was an absolute mess of broken furniture, animal tracks, and cobwebs. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. I took a deep breath and stepped through the door, leaving Andrian and the other beastmen in the yard. The inside smelled musty and damp, with a faint hint of old blood. Although it was midday, it was dark inside.

“I’ve got the kid. We don’t need this bitch to talk anymore.”

A voice echoed in my head, but there was no one there but me. The dining room had been torn apart that night and no one had ever bothered to put it back together. The table where we once ate lay on its side and the broken remnants of chairs lay strewn about on the floor.

"Keep crying, whore! You're prettier when you cry."

I felt nauseated and looked down at the table as flashes of that night flashed through my memory. I looked at the corner behind me, next to the door to my mother's bedroom. That was where they held me down and made me watch. I thought I could still feel Albrecht's hands on me, and I heard his whisper in my ear.

"You're next. I can't touch you tonight, but one day I'll see you crying like your bitch mother over there. I'll have you begging before I'm done."

The nausea grew worse and I began to struggle for breath. Memories came in tiny flashes, voices in my head, and images of then and now overlapping in my mind. I fell to my knees, clutching my head, which was pounding so hard that I thought it might burst. I closed my eyes, trying to control my panic as my mind was flooded with the violence I'd witnessed. Behind my tightly closed lids, I could see the large blackened door that had haunted me the night before.

Boom. Boom. Boom. I couldn't tell if someone was banging on the door or if it was just the sound of my own heart. Boom. Boom. The door shook in its frame. Whatever was inside wanted out. I was scared.

I opened my eyes and my childhood home was gone. I stood in the fog. All around me the gray fog lingered, obscuring everything that lay beyond. There was no hallway, no endless doors, just a lone, dark door in front of me. Was there light coming from behind the door? No, it was just my imagination. That door ate light, it wouldn't let any out. I thought I heard voices from behind it, whispering my name, but I knew that too must be an illusion. It was my imagination, right?

I looked around desperately for another way out, but there was nothing but fog; a fog so deep I didn't think I'd ever find my way out.

You have to open the door to get out.

I heard a voice echoing through my mind. I turned in circles trying to find its source, but there was no one out there. I was alone. There was only me.

Never let your fate be decided by fear.

Was it Amelie’s voice I was hearing? Was it my own?

Boom, boom, boom.

Someone was definitely pounding on the door.

Please! Please let me out!

This time I was certain it was my own voice I was hearing.

I'm all alone in the dark. Please open the door. I'm afraid. You took all the light back and left me here. Julien, please let me out!

I wanted to tell the me inside the door that they were wrong. I'm not Julien, I'm Falyn. But I couldn't speak here either. I had no voice.

Boom! The door shook. Julien, please! I want to get out. I want to see the light again!

No, no, you're wrong. I'm not Julien. I don't want to be Julien de Ramport. He doesn't exist. He's just someone our father made up!

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The pounding on the door continued and I realized that the other me was right. I was Julien. I wasn't real. The person on the other side of the door was also Falyn, the part I'd put away to survive. He was me. I was Julien, but I was also Falyn. I just had to free the rest of me from behind the door. But to let myself out, I had to open the door to the darkness I feared.

It’s okay. The darkness can’t hurt you. It’s just frightening is all.

I reached for the door. I was right. All I had to do was face the darkness. It was normal to be afraid. I couldn't stay locked in there and suffer alone. Together we could face the darkness. I turned the knob and pulled the door towards me. Blackness, shining like sunlight, shot out and enveloped me. In flashes and bursts I saw pieces of the life I'd lived. More than nine years of my life, which I'd thought had flown by in a whirlwind, had actually been nine very long years, with each day stretching into eternity. Hours upon hours of sitting alone in my room with no one to talk to and nothing to occupy my mind but books. Days upon days, idle and isolated, until that alone would have been enough to break me.

The madness that came from starvation when I was locked away without food. The beatings and violence and constant reminders that I was a disappointment and worthless. As I lay on my bed in my gilded prison, willing myself to die from injuries that were never serious enough to kill. When I lived in terror that Albrecht would corner me if I left my room to bathe or go for a walk. He always looked for me when he returned to the house from one of his missions on the eastern border. I remember with perfect clarity the things he would do when he found me.

As more and more memories flooded my mind, I became overwhelmed by the constant stream of images and understanding. Conversations I'd overheard as I lay beaten on the floor of my father's study. Who I was. What I had become. I understood the truth. I didn’t partition my mind, I was the partition my mind created. The rest of me had been waiting for me to come back and release it... me... us... it was all the same now. I was a single piece made whole. It was beautiful and it was terrible. All of me remembered everything. The fear, the anger and the years of suffering burned a hole in my heart and spilled out. I howled and shrieked and screamed and fell to my knees in the darkness.

As I returned to awareness, I felt disoriented and unhinged. Strong hands held me down and I could hear voices telling me to calm down, that I was going to hurt myself. I realized that the anguished wailing I could hear was coming from my own vocal cords. I was flailing and screaming as I tried to fight my way out of the strong grip someone had on my arms. I didn't fully understand what was happening, but I knew I didn't want to be held down. They had to let me go. This wasn't okay.

The fact that I was using my voice didn't even register as I struggled to free myself and kicked at the aggressors in front of me.

"AAAhhh! Let go!" I screamed as I kicked my legs wildly. I would have screamed again, but my long unused voice was already hoarse and strained from such a violent return. I coughed and choked and tried to muster up another scream, but I couldn't produce more than a wheeze. I gasped for air but couldn't stop coughing long enough to take a full breath. I began to panic as I struggled to fill my lungs. I felt the arms holding me release me, and the aggressors began to make concerned noises. But it was too late for that. My vision began spotting with black as I gasped and flailed upon the floor. Then I was consumed by the blackness.