I found myself back in that cold, lifeless place, surrounded by the bodies of the dead. Piles of corpses on corpses on corpses seemed to never end. Time flowed on, and I felt empty. I was a different person. My hopes had died. My soul had disappeared. I felt nothing for them. No empathy, no pity, no hate. I just looked away as if they were nothing but hollow shells like they were just thrown by a storm.

And I chose to turn my gaze away.

A field of lifeless scarecrows, cast aside and forgotten by the world. Who was I to remember? Who was I to cherish?

Then, I saw children. Just standing out there, freezing, looking at those bodies they loved one day, with mercy. Not moving an inch. Just looking at them. Something inside me flickered. I took a deep breath and my hands reached out for them. I called out, calling them to safety in my arms. "Come to me, all of you," I said, "If you come to me, you won't be cold as I will grow you in my heart, you will be warm, and you will be safe."

One of each ran to me, their tiny hands reaching up to embrace.

But the moment they touched me, everything changed. Flames erupted from their bodies, devouring them in an instant. Their screams echoed through the room as blood poured from their eyes and mouths, staining their beaming skin. I looked at their now mask-like faces. No eyes, no nose, no mouth, nothing human. If I was not hearing their screams of agony, I would not believe they were my children, whom I once reached out to love and protect.

I closed my eyes and stopped breathing. Everything went dark.

Then I heard a loud ringing.

When I looked up, I saw their twisted, non-human visages staring back at me from the walls of a vast, dark chamber.

The scorching pain rising from my heart boiled my tears and seared my eyes. My knees buckled under the weight of the anguish that enveloped me. The children were mine. Mine. Their screams echoed in my mind as I cradled them in my arms, helplessly watching the flames devour them. They grew heavier and heavier until they were nothing more than ashes that slipped through my fingers. It was not a figment of my imagination, not a mere nightmare conjured up by an evil spirit. It was real, a harrowing vision of the future that I knew with absolute certainty would happen.

The searing heat had spread from my heart to my chest and my breaths came out in ragged gasps, matching the convulsive sobs that wracked my body. It was cold. I was burning. I lifted my head, torn between hope and the fear of seeing the faces on the walls I knew were there, but there was only darkness. The room was silent and empty, devoid of any comfort or solace. I remembered the moment when the nightmare had struck me during my translation of ancient writings on that table. Then the roof had crumbled and the moon had risen, casting an ominous shadow over my future. And now, here I was, collapsed in a pool of my tears, broken and alone.

As I hunched over there, weeping inconsolably, time became a blur. Perhaps I cried for mere minutes, perhaps for long hours.

It was a warning, a sign that I must save what is mine, what is innocent.

A warning not to fill these empty walls with faces.

I had decided to tell Ascula about this vision despite the potential consequences.

She dismissed my attempts to help others in the past, citing my supposed weakness of heart and the danger it posed. I had learned to keep my insights to myself, but this time felt different. I couldn't ignore the intense pain and burning I had felt or the clarity of the images that had assaulted my senses. Ascula would likely scoff at the idea, furrowing her brow and wrinkling her nose as I recounted what I saw. She would say, "These are not sacred visions. You must have sinned. Your heart must be tainted." But I refused to be deterred. I knew what I had experienced was real. I would not let her dismiss it as a mere figment of my imagination.

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The more I cried, the more I thought it just pulled me into a well of darkness, deeper and deeper. But I knew I had to get up, I had to take action, or else I would be consumed by the abyss forever. I had to change things. So, with a deep breath, I slowly got to my feet, my eyes lingering on the walls for one last time. Empty.

Then I took a deep breath and decided to leave the room. As I climbed the stairs, the darkness clawed at my heels, pulling me back, and I felt a chill running down my spine. My heart raced as I reached the top, slamming and locking the door shut. I leaned against the door, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath.

The house was still empty and quiet, with the gentle sunlight permeating the interiors. As I lay there, writhing in the abyss of the well for a time I did not know, the wellhead remained as usual. Untouched. For a moment, I didn't know what to do. It took me some time to compose myself, to gather my thoughts. I had to conceal my feelings from the other apprentices, complete the pending chores if I had any, and await the arrival of Ascula and Lea. When Ascula arrived, I would tell her everything. All my hope was for her to believe me. I didn't know what I would do if she didn't. Would I go to the Temple of the Silla? Would they listen to me if I went there and told them what I had seen? A simple villager girl, without any sacred gifts, claiming to have had a visionary dream? A part of me wished them to recognize the abilities that Ascula had overlooked and to acknowledge the reality of my dreadful vision.

Naturally, this was a backup plan. For now, I had to remain optimistic.

I drew a deep breath and surveyed my surroundings. The upper floors were immaculate, and there was not much left to attend to. I resolved to continue transcribing ancient texts onto fresh parchment. I retrieved some blank parchment, a quill, and ink from the supply closet and proceeded to the Great Hall.

I walked to the table next to the window, looking at the forest outside. The sun was a pale beam on the trees. I couldn't help but feel I was being watched. My hands shook as I clutched the parchments, trying to focus on the ancient script in front of me. But fear crept at my every thought, causing my ink to run like blood.

I devoted myself to my task, scribbling furiously and casting my anxieties aside. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the room, but I paid it no mind. I was too engrossed in the task, absorbing every detail and committing it to memory. Occasionally, I would pause to study the drawings in greater detail, tracing the curves of the petals with my finger and committing their names to memory in the strange, musical tongue of Old Safirian.

With each moment of distraction, I reeled my focus back in. Despite my lack of comprehension, I incessantly transcribed the Old Safirian scripts, sometimes piecing together the intended meaning from the depictions adorning the parchment. The tome presently clasped within my grasp detailed the magical properties of rare flowers, carefully procured from far-flung regions at the behest of Lord Sillavont for examination. These blossoms were elusive and exclusive, not readily available for trade among the town's merchants and noble families unless specially requested. Even within our verdant forests, these specimens were nowhere to be found, as most could not take root in our fertile climate. These were plants endemic to the arid deserts of the south.

For hours, I scribbled nonstop, attempting to memorize the names and characteristics of each illustrated bloom in Old Safirian. I perused the accompanying recipes, seeking to familiarize myself with any discernible words. All the while, I suppressed the jarring distractions of my emotions and worries, watching the sun as it sank below the horizon and the sky gradually darkened. Though the need for illumination would soon arise, I remained rooted in my seat, unwilling to break the flow of my concentrated efforts.

As darkness descended upon the room, the shadows grew longer and the silence more profound. The scent of the flowers in the vase intensified, filling my nostrils with their sweet fragrance. The only sound was the faint scratching of my pen on the parchment. Yet, my thoughts were elsewhere, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease.

And then suddenly, the door opened.