Baby Ori lay on her ramshackle raft in the creek, feeling the cold water between the sticks splash her back. The sun bore into her closed eyes, and so a cloud materialized to cover it. She was reminded again that she was in the ‘inside’ world.

Infant Ori was gone, having already claimed a room in the cottage Baby Ori made. Such was the kind of thing that happened on the inside.

The newborn Ori’s were more formidable than Baby Ori had thought. They frightened her. She would have to be more careful around them in the future.

No wonder the birch trees had tried to warn her away.

To think a baby could hold such feelings: to want to die. It was an insidious clue to the kind of life the Oris had lived and the kind of life they expected to keep living.

Baby Ori had cried for a long while, letting the tears pool passed her ears, thinking about her mother. The type of mother who could ignore the cries of a starving baby. The kind of mother who had made Baby Ori become a bloody doll.

Baby Ori had a thought: Maybe the creek wasn’t freshwater at all, but made from all the tears of all the Oris.

The soft bump of her raft alerted her to the creek’s end. She sat up, wiping her runny eyes and nose. She must have floated into a mountain pass. In front of her was a large moss-covered rock, and to her right, a steep uphill incline.

Baby Ori looked up into the thin, spindly trees and sighed. She looked down at her feet, now wearing light blue bejeweled boots. On her hip, a sword encased in dark blue leather. Her dress and bloomers ballooned into a blouse and pants. Today she would be a knight on an exploration to save herselves. A seasoned professional! She gripped the creek bank with dark blue leather gloves and hauled her little body onto the clay.

She knit her eyebrows into a tough line and pushed herself up using the thin young trees. It was slippery work, the incline was lined with rotting fallen leaves. Baby Ori could not help herself, every time she slipped, she stopped to stare at the worms and beetles underneath. Everything in the inside world was perfect and amazing.

She was halfway up when she felt a chill slide down her back. The enormity of this presence almost sent her careening back down the mountain. She caught her breath in her throat. Her eyes dilated and she began to sweat. Worse yet, she felt like she was smiling. Why would she be smiling? She was frightened.

Baby Ori turned her head to the right.

There beside her was another little girl. She had dark blue hair and bright blue eyes. Her mouth was turned up into an unnatural closed-mouth smile, and she radiated danger.

Baby Ori grasped a tree and took a step backward. Her body shook. The girl’s eyes seemed to bore into her own. Her insidious smile seemed to want to take over her body.

Baby Ori felt the smile right behind her own mouth. She could no longer feel her own expression. She screamed and closed her eyes. “I’m not smiling!!”

When she opened her eyes again, the other girl still stood there, still smiling. Baby Ori’s breath grew heavy. “What are you? You’re not an Ori.”

The girl continued to smile, but her voice penetrated Baby Ori’s mind. “Do you remember my name?”

Baby Ori shook her head, the feeling of the girl’s tight-lipped smile behind her own frown was horrible. “No!!”

The girl did not react. She stood on the mountain as if she were rooted in place.

Baby Ori sensed that she would follow her to the ends of the inner world. “Whoever you are, I’m here to find Ori’s. I find Ori’s and I give them rooms. Nobody scary is allowed near the Ori’s!”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

The girl chuckled inside Baby Ori’s head, and Baby Ori’s eyes filled with worried tears.

Baby Ori blinked, and the girl was gone. With trembling hands, Baby Ori removed her gloves and felt her own face. She felt her downturned cheeks and trembling lips. She practiced smiling just to see what it felt like, then frowned deeply to see if she still could. Her jaw hurt as if her mother was squeezing it. Confused tears streamed down her eyes. The haunting smile was still there, just behind her own expression.

Who was that girl? She wasn’t a Julie, nor an Ori, or a Thomas. Baby Ori’s little heartbeat felt as if it would hop away. She felt like she knew the girl’s name, but a pressing feeling of erasure was keeping her from it. The erasure was not like a wall keeping her out, but like a watery smudge over her own thoughts. It was so frustrating; she gnashed her teeth.

Whatever that girl’s real name was, she was powerful―the memories she held were the most disgusting Baby Ori had ever felt. There was something raw and ugly about that girl’s existence.

Nausea washed over Baby Ori’s body again and again. She held onto the thin trees for dear life. “Thomas?” She whispered, “Are you there?”

―-

Lady Ori felt strange. She felt like she was smiling, even though she wore the same glare she always had. She pulled at her cheeks and wiggled them to and fro. Still, the ghostly feeling of a smile remained. It was discomforting.

She sat at her vanity and studied her face. There was no smile; not even a hint. Lady Ori narrowed her eyes. She reapplied bright red lipstick and called for an escort.

The carriage took her to Main Street; a busy place where nobles shopped and lower classes worked.

A Knight held her hand as she exited the carriage. Once the stiletto of her heel had touched the ground she was off.

The Knight hurried behind her, then held the door open as she stalked inside a nearby shop.

No sooner had the door jingled, than an attendant met her at the door.

When the Knight entered he blushed, but said nothing.

Lady Ori eyed the attendant, then scanned the shop. Lace lingerie of all colors hung from the wall on hooks. The designs were all sheer and pretty. Garters and stockings lined the shelves in neat stacks.

She pointed to the far left, “From here,” she gestured to the far right, “to here. I’m buying all of it. All sizes. Did you receive your pay?”

The attendant nodded, having received Lady Ori’s letter just before.

Lady Ori smiled, “Good. Send it to the address I gave you.” She gestured to the Knight to follow her out as the attendant thanked her, eyes wide.

Lady Ori strode back to the carriage. “You don’t say much, Sir Knight. I like that about you.”

The Knight made an effort to keep his face straight. “I see, thank you, My Lady.”

Lady Ori waited as he quickly opened the door to her carriage and stretched his arm out to help her inside. She placed her delicate hand in his, her nails as red as the devil and just as sharp, too. “And,” she whispered, “I know that you will continue to say nothing.”

The Knight nodded.

“Good,” smiled Lady Ori, “A lady must have her secrets.”

The door to the carriage shut again, and soon bumped and jostled to its next location.

This time a portly man met her at the door of a large, baroque-style building. It was bright white, and ornately carved with the busts of Gods and Goddess.

“Lady Ori de Rohan!” He said to her, bowing deeply. “How lovely to finally meet you. I trust you have been well?”

Lady Ori studied the doors. They were carved with the image of Jupiter; the god of luck―and also fortune. She nodded approvingly. “Show me the rooms.”

“Yes, of course!” the man said.

The art inside was beautiful, though not to her liking. The Goddess Juno was first and foremost among the murals on the wall. She represented marriage and childbirth.

The man was saying, “Of course, the main purpose of this building before was for postpartum recovery, which is why you find Bona Dea and Juno.”

Lady Ori paused. Who was Bona Dea, again? She turned to the man, questioning.

“Bona Dea, as you know,” he said quickly, “The Goddess who protects, heals, and guides all women.”

Lady Ori looked up at Bona Dea with newfound interest. There was a Goddess like that, huh?

Not that any Goddess had ever tried to help her before.

Lady Ori was satisfied.

Luke de Candel, her young cousin who took the title of Count Rohan, had taken care to empty Baby Ori’s room. He had sent Lady Ori the contents, and she’d received them yesterday.

Lady Ori had sold everything immediately. Nothing was safe: she sold the jewelry, the ugly old dresses, the shoes, and the stockings―even Baby Ori’s books and trinkets.

All Lady Ori would have left after today would be the clothes on her back, five pairs of heels she’d special ordered, and a small lump sum.

The man watched her face, his eyes shining with greed. “It’s in a marvelous location. Very close to the opera―within walking distance. What were you thinking of preparing? A cafe would do beautifully, or a women’s boutique―“

Lady Ori sliced her eyes over his face.

The man fell silent.

Lady Ori cocked her head to the side, “I’ll sign. Bring the documents and a pen.”