They said she wandered too far that day.
The others were chasing insects in the gardens, helping the grown-ups with chores, laughing in the sun. Ferzie didn't feel like laughing. She hadn't said a word since morning. Something about her felt... off. Her brothers noticed, but shrugged it off. Maybe she was just tired.
But Ferzie wasn't tired. She was thinking. Listening to something she couldn't quite hear. It tugged at her—silent, constant.
The manor had always been her world. Its long halls, cold stone, and dim candlelight were all she'd ever known. And yet, it had never felt like home. She never told anyone—not her father, not her brothers, not her uncle Neey. But she had always felt it. A wrongness. A space where something—someone—should be.
That day, she walked the halls again. Not aimlessly. Searching. For what, she didn't know. She slipped past doors she was told to avoid. Rooms left locked for decades. Shadows that didn't move quite right.
Her father had always warned them: never go where you don't belong. Not for safety. For respect. There were places that see you back, if you see them. Places that remember.
Ferzie didn't care. She felt like something was pulling her deeper.
And then—she was gone.
Hours passed before anyone noticed. By the time they found her, she was lying alone in the forest beyond the outer edge of the estate. Eyes closed. Still breathing. But silent.
Unmoving.
"Ferzie! There you are, silly thing. Come here!"
The voice rang out like something half-remembered from a dream. Gentle, but wrong.
She turned toward it.
"…Who are you?"
The voice laughed. "Who do you think I am? Don't tell me you hit your head or something. Today's the day—we're sneaking off to town, remember? Dad doesn't need to know."
"…Are you… my mommy?"
"Dummy head, of course I am!" the voice said, too quickly. "Now c'mon. Get your straw hat. Let's go before the others notice."
Ferzie blinked. "I didn't think I had a mommy..."
The figure didn't answer. Just hummed sweetly.
"Wait," Ferzie said, suddenly cautious. "We should tell Uncle Neey we're going. So no one worries."
Silence.
"…Uncle who?"
Ferzie's blood turned cold.
Something was wrong.
This person—this thing—had no face. She hadn't noticed before. It moved like it was smiling. Spoke like it had eyes. But when she looked straight at it, there was just a blur. A smear. A hollow thing wearing skin it didn't own.
She ran.
She ran until she reached the only place that made sense—her room. She locked the door.
She waited.
The room didn't change. The world didn't come back. Just the same soft white glow through the window. Not light—just blankness. Like the end of a page.
Time stretched. Folded. Broke.
She lost count of the days. She stopped trying.
Nothing came for her.
No one knocked.
And then—it did.
A voice, not heard but felt, like breath behind her thoughts:
"Overcome your fears."
She laughed. The sound felt strange in her mouth.
What fear?
What was left?
But then—images. Not memories. Fragments.
A woman in bed, too pale. A small hand touching another. Her own crying. A low whisper she didn't understand at the time. The cold stillness that followed.
Her mother.
She remembered now.
Three years with her. That was all. Not enough to hold onto. Just enough to curse herself with.
No one ever said it out loud, but she'd seen the way they looked at her afterward. Her father. Her siblings. Herself.
Somewhere deep inside, a child had taken the blame. Quietly. Permanently.
But now, at the end of the dream, she understood something else:
It wasn't about forgiveness.
It was about acceptance.
The grief didn't belong to her. But the guilt—that did.
She opened the door.
Light swallowed her.
She woke to a ceiling she didn't recognize. Cold, sterile light above her. A strange white hum.
A hospital.
Not candles. Not stone.
Her limbs ached. Her mouth was dry. But she was awake.
To her left, Xyeurian and Sebastian lay slumped against the bed, asleep. On the other side of the room, her father sat hunched in a chair. His eyes were hollow, bloodshot. He hadn't shaved. He looked like he hadn't slept in days.
When he noticed her eyes open, he froze. Then rose slowly. He didn't rush to her. He stood there, silent. Just looking. As if not entirely convinced she was real.
"…Dad?" her voice cracked.
He stepped forward, cautiously, and pulled her into a hug. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. She could feel his heartbeat like thunder.
"How long was I asleep?"
"Three years," he said, quietly.
Ferzie blinked. "Three...?"
It felt like centuries.
Xyeurian stirred. Then Sebastian. When they saw her awake, they wrapped their arms around her tightly, trembling.
She didn't stop them. But she didn't hug back, either.
"You're breaking my bones," she said, softly.
They didn't hear the flatness in her tone.
Ferzie smiled. Just barely.
But she wasn't the same.
And she never would be again.