The morning light filtered softly through the small, narrow windows of the shelter, casting a pale glow over the stone walls. Estelle woke early, her mind already buzzing with the need to be useful. She wasn’t one to sit idle, especially when there was so much to be done. She had been restless all night, her thoughts drifting back to the memories that weren’t hers, and the weight of her own situation. As soon as she felt she could move without much pain, she slipped out of bed and began to prepare for the day.

Lydia, ever vigilant, noticed her movements immediately. “And just where do you think you’re going?” she asked, her tone a mix of exasperation and concern.

Estelle offered a small, sheepish smile. “I can’t just lie around all day, Lydia. I’m feeling much better, and I need to do something to help out. The shelter needs all the hands it can get.”

Lydia crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes slightly. “You’re supposed to be resting, not running around like nothing happened.”

"I’m feeling much better, thanks to you. And besides, I can’t just lie around doing nothing. I need to be useful." Estelle said, hoping to diffuse Lydia’s concern.

Lydia sighed, her expression softening slightly. "I appreciate the sentiment, but the last thing I need is you overexerting yourself and ending up back here with a worse injury."

"I promise I’ll take it easy," Estelle insisted. "But I can’t just sit still. I’ll go stir-crazy. Let me help out around the shelter—I’ll find something light to do."

Lydia sighed, clearly torn between keeping her patient in bed and acknowledging Estelle’s stubborn resolve. After a moment, she relented with a wave of her hand. “Fine, but don’t overdo it, alright? And if I see you back here needing treatment again, you’re not leaving that bed for a week.”

“Deal,” Estelle said with a grin, slipping out of the infirmary before Lydia could change her mind.

As she wandered through the shelter, Estelle began to notice a shift in the way people interacted with her. Where before there had been suspicion or caution, now there was a sense of camaraderie. The mission had changed things—those who had fought alongside her now offered nods of acknowledgment or brief smiles as she passed.

Some of the resistance members who had been with her on the mission stopped to ask about her injury, genuine concern in their voices. “How’s the arm, Lily?” one of them asked, a woman with a bandage around her own leg from the previous day’s skirmish.

“Much better, thanks to Lydia,” Estelle replied, her tone light. “She’s a miracle worker, really.”

Another fighter, a younger man with dark circles under his eyes, nodded. “Lydia’s good at what she does. We’re lucky to have her.”

Despite the warm reception, Estelle’s attempts to help out were met with reluctance. Each time she offered her assistance, she was gently turned away, the concern for her well-being outweighing the need for an extra pair of hands. “You should be resting, Lily,” they would say, or, “Don’t push yourself too hard.”

It became clear that Lydia’s reputation for being strict with her patients had spread through the shelter. No one wanted to risk her ire by letting Estelle overexert herself, and Estelle couldn’t help but feel a bit frustrated, despite the good intentions behind their refusals.

After several failed attempts to find something to do, Estelle’s enthusiasm began to wane. She tried not to let it show, but the repeated rejections were starting to get to her. As she walked through one of the corridors, looking a bit lost, a friendly face approached her—a fellow resistance member who had fought alongside her in the last mission.

"Hey, Lily," he greeted her with a nod. “You look like you’re in need of something to do,” he remarked, his tone sympathetic.

Estelle sighed, nodding. “I’m trying to help, but no one will let me do anything.”

The man chuckled softly. “That’s because they’re all afraid of Lydia. She’s got a sharp tongue when it comes to taking care of her patients.”

Estelle couldn’t help but laugh at that. “She certainly does.”

His smile widened. “Well, if you’re really looking to keep busy, why not head back to the infirmary and help Lydia out? She’s always got more work than she can handle, and I’m sure she’d appreciate the help—even if she won’t admit it.”

Estelle considered the suggestion, and after a moment, she nodded. “You’re right. I’ll do that. Thanks for the advice.”

The resistance member gave her a thumbs-up before heading off to his own duties, leaving Estelle to make her way back to the infirmary. As she approached, she steeled herself for what she knew would be an exasperated reaction from Lydia.

Sure enough, as soon as Estelle stepped into the infirmary, Lydia looked up from her work and let out a groan. "Already back, Lily? What did I tell you about taking it easy?"

Estelle held up her hand in a placating gesture, quickly explaining, "I’m not here for treatment this time, I swear. I’m here to help. I’d rather be doing something useful than just sitting around.”

Lydia studied her for a long moment before finally sighing in resignation. “Alright, but you’re not to overdo it. And if I even think you’re pushing yourself too hard, you’re going straight back to bed.”

Estelle smiled gratefully. “Deal.”

Lydia rolled her eyes but couldn’t quite hide the small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re going to be the death of me, Lily,” she muttered as she handed Estelle a pile of clean bandages. “But fine, let’s see how you handle this.”

As Estelle set to work alongside Lydia, she felt a sense of contentment settling over her. The tasks were simple, mostly organizing and inventorying the medical supplies, which was a relatively light workload compared to what Estelle was used to. Still, it was enough to keep her occupied, and it allowed her to stay in Lydia’s good graces—a win-win situation, all things considered.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Lydia, though still grumbling occasionally, seemed to appreciate the help. And as they worked together in companionable silence, Estelle found herself enjoying the routine, the sense of normalcy that came with the simple act of helping out.

After a long day of helping around the infirmary, Estelle found herself sitting with Dante and Iris in a small, dimly lit room that served as a common area. Mira had fallen asleep on a makeshift bed nearby, her small frame curled up under a thin blanket. Finn was off on patrol, but the rest of them were there, sharing a rare moment of quiet.

As they talked about their lives in the shelter, Estelle felt a familiar ache begin to pulse at the base of her skull. It was subtle at first, just a dull throb, but it quickly intensified, spreading through her head like wildfire. She winced, pressing a hand to her temple.

"Lily, are you okay?" Dante’s voice was laced with concern as he leaned forward, his brow furrowed.

"I’m fine," Estelle lied, forcing a smile. "Just a headache."

But the pain wasn’t just a headache—it was a flood of memories, images from the other Estelle’s life that threatened to overwhelm her. She saw herself—or rather, the other Estelle—pushing through exhaustion, taking on multiple jobs to provide for her siblings. But she refused to stop. There was too much at stake—her siblings depended on her, and she couldn’t afford to show weakness. Everyone had tried to help, but they were just as stretched thin as she was. And though Alaric did what he could, the other Estelle had pushed herself to the brink, ignoring the toll it was taking on her body because she believed it was the only way to keep them safe.

The memory shifted, and Estelle saw herself hiding in a cramped, makeshift shelter, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she listened to the sounds of soldiers searching the area. The tension was palpable, every muscle in her body coiled like a spring, ready to snap at any moment. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she forced herself to stay calm, to remain hidden until the danger passed. She could feel the fear gnawing at her, but she couldn’t afford to let it take hold. There were too many lives depending on her.

"Are you sure you’re okay?" Iris’s voice cut through the haze, bringing Estelle back to the present. There was a hint of worry in her usually calm demeanor, and Estelle realized that she must have let her guard down more than she intended.

"I’m sure," Estelle replied, her voice a little steadier now. "Just tired, that’s all."

But Iris wasn’t convinced. She exchanged a glance with Dante, who nodded slightly. "You’ve been pushing yourself a lot lately," Dante said. "You don’t have to take everything on by yourself, you know."

Estelle felt a pang of guilt at his words. She knew they were only trying to help, but the memories of the other Estelle’s struggles were too fresh, too painful. "I know, but I’m fine, really," she said softly. "Don’t be worried.”

There was a pause as Dante and Iris absorbed her words. The unspoken similarity between the two Estelles hung in the air, the warm memories lingering in their minds.

"You remind us a lot of her," Iris said quietly, her gaze fixed on the floor. "The way you take on so much, the way you push yourself even when you’re hurting... It’s like you’re carrying the same burdens she did."

Estelle didn’t know how to respond to that. She wasn’t the exact same Estelle they had lost, but the memories she had saw also made her feel a deep connection to the woman who had once been their sister as well.

"I guess some things don’t change, no matter where you are," Estelle said finally, her voice tinged with sadness.

Dante nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Maybe. But you don’t have to do it alone this time. We’re here for you, just like you’ve been here for us."

The sincerity in his voice made Estelle’s chest tighten. These were her siblings, in a way, even if they weren’t the ones she had always taken care of. And in that moment, she realized just how much she wanted to protect them, to make sure they didn’t lose another sister.

"Sis... I mean, Lily," Mira corrected herself, her voice small and hesitant as she woke up. "Do you remember... do you remember when we used to sing together?"

Estelle’s heart skipped a beat, the familiar tune echoing in her mind. She had sung it countless times to comfort her siblings back in her world, and now, hearing Mira mention it, she felt a deep connection to them. "I do remember," Estelle said softly, her voice tinged with both surprise and warmth. "I used to sing with you... all of you."

Mira’s eyes lit up with hope, a spark of recognition passing between them. "Could we... could we sing it again?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Estelle nodded, and as she began to hum the familiar tune, Mira joined in, her voice trembling at first but growing stronger as the melody filled the room. It was a simple song, one of comfort and home, and as the others listened, they too seemed to be drawn into the memory. Dante and Iris exchanged glances, their expressions softening as they listened to the song that had once been a source of solace in darker times.

The song ended, leaving a warm silence in its wake. For a moment, it was as if the weight of the world had lifted, and they were just a family, bound together by memories both old and new.

But even as they sang, the memories continued to flicker at the edges of Estelle’s consciousness. It was bittersweet, a reminder of the life the other Estelle had lived and the sacrifices she had made. And as Estelle watched her siblings, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of those memories pressing down on her.

That night, after the others had gone to bed, Estelle found herself alone in the common room, staring at the flickering flames of the small fireplace. She found herself thinking more and more about the other Estelle’s life. The memories came in flashes, not as painful as before, but still overwhelming. She saw how the other Estelle had struggled to keep up, the weight of everything had taken its toll on her body and spirit.

These memories haunted Estelle as she went about her duties in the shelter. She could feel the other Estelle’s exhaustion, her desperation, and it only deepened her resolve to protect the siblings she had left behind. They had all suffered, but they were still fighting, still surviving. And Estelle was determined to make sure that fight wasn’t in vain.

The siblings, for their part, began to open up to her more. They started sharing stories of their past, of their struggles and triumphs. Estelle listened intently, absorbing every detail, every word. It was through these conversations that she began to understand just how much the other Estelle had meant to them, how she had been their rock in a world that was falling apart.

Mira, especially, seemed to find comfort in Estelle’s presence. She would often seek her out, just to sit quietly by her side or share a few words. Finn, though still cautious, began to warm up to her as well, often teasing her in the way only a younger brother could. Even Dante, with his stern demeanor, showed moments of vulnerability, moments where Estelle could see the weight he carried on his shoulders.

And then there was Iris. She remained guarded, but there were moments when Estelle caught her watching with a look that was almost... hopeful. It was as if Iris wanted to believe, wanted to trust, but was afraid of getting hurt again. Estelle understood that fear all too well.

The siblings have begun to notice more and more similarities between Estelle and the sister they had lost. The way she moved, the way she spoke—it all reminded them of the Estelle they had known. It was comforting, but it was also a stark reminder of what they had lost.

But for Estelle, these similarities were both a blessing and a curse. She was grateful for the connection, but it also made her question her place in this world. She was a stranger here, an outsider, yet she was also their sister. The line between the two was blurring.

The headaches had lessened, but the memories remained vivid. Estelle had come to accept them as a part of her now, a connection to the other Estelle that couldn’t be severed. But with that acceptance came a new determination. She couldn’t change the past, but she could protect the future.

With a deep breath, Estelle rose from her seat and made her way to her quarters. The mask she wore felt heavy, a constant reminder of the secrets she was hiding. But as she lay down to sleep, she felt a small spark of hope. She wasn’t alone in this world, and with her siblings by her side, she knew she could face whatever challenges lay ahead.