The moon was bright again. The girl sat on a carriage enveloped in the embrace of a young man. Her head was on his lap and her arm wrapped around his waist. He whispered to the girl's ear in a voice light like the clouds. " Mi avis, mi amare, fieri liberta"

Moonlight revealed the forest outside the carriage disintegrating into a wild frenzy of lines. Shadows in the black sky pulsated as the moon grew bigger and bigger.

The girl looked to see herself on the ground as the carriage sat behind her.They were back again at their Casa. It loomed above them as moon sat on the tallest spires. It was as if the moon's devouring it.

The girl's body fell weak. There was a storm on her chest. She gasped for air. Embedded on her flesh was a long rope whose length crept through the ground and the other end of the rope coiled itself on a man's hand.

She found the carriage empty. She tried to eke out a name. The man did not have a name.The man had the face of blissful salvation and utter destruction. Still, the girl struggled to utter a name. Utter it loud

" It is alright. You are safe."

Sal stared at the open door of the room. It seemed small, dark, and dirty. Scratchy sheets wrapped around her legs and a dull, gray shirt was draped on her. The fiber was making her itch. The slightest breeze from the open window fanned her face. It was bright, too sunny.

" Here, eat this. Soup's good for the nerves."

It was the lady with the same green eyes. Staring at her was almost like staring at herself except for the fact that she oozed a certain strength. She could not bring herself to look at her in the eye.

She held to her a bowl with soup. It was liquid. Hot. Not good.Poison is liquid too. Hot like how it felt on her skin before.

"Chicken broth, ginger,lemongrass, and papaya. Do not refuse something this lavish," the lady said. She sighed and tasted it herself." Something bad will happen to me in a few seconds if this was spiked."

"Une, Die, Tre" She mouthed. Objects swimming in yellowish- green water. Six, seven, eight- Sal was lost in thought. Sal scooped up a bit of the food ever so slowly. She stared at it long until the one in front of her blew it off.

"Careful. It's hot."

She tasted it so, it was tasteless.

" I should've brought a needle to test this one but 'Nay Rosa, don't even want to.Disgusting, she said. Know what, even my father, a full-Mutiaran at that knows that is the best way."

"Needles," Sal muttered." Like a chunk of needles inside."

The lady paused. She was referring to that thing.

" Warm, hot. Like burning."

" Luck you are alive," the lady said.

Sal lifted her head to look at her then shifted back down, staring at her hands.

Numb.

" Ic malediccio" she whispered to herself. There was no emotion in her

voice. The lady couldn't easily muster a reply. Her face contorted then she paused for a moment. She did not understand. She willed her not to understand.

" Listen." The lady carefully touched Sal's hands.

" I can help you." She was almost whispering. "I. Me. Help. You." She pointed at herself then at Sal.

" We're the same. We should help each other." All her words, help, escape, it flew over her head. What should one answer? What does she want?

Out of nowhere, the lady held Sal’s hands. At first, she could feel her arms, their warmth, just the odd feeling of something sticking to you, enveloping her. Like the warmth of that person she trusted. The dark of that night, the familiar sensation, it's coming back.

It was then that she realized she has pushed her away. She saw her furrowed brows, eyes that spoke of confusion. Bewilderment. She's out of herself. She thought of apologizing, but that is only a folly. It would not change what she has done.The lady silently fixed the tray and bowl.

"Apologies, you were scared."

Sal watched her go. Even from behind, she seemed strong. Too strong, too bright like the noonday sun. Sal was the weak moon. She clasped her hands together, a thick rope coiled around her wrists when there were none flashing for a moment before her. It was too bright, too sunny. What place is this? The windows are wide open. She stood, rested her palms against the dusty wood. Outside, the earth and trees were tinted yellow from the sun resting high above the clouds. Its light wrapping itself on vast, and vast expanse of trees. No high metal gate or a high brick wall on sight. Just, trees. On the farthest end of sight, is a small terracotta line. Much like the roofs of other houses beside the Casa.

Hands outstretched, she traced that line. Leaning forward, her knees on the bentanilla. The wood pressed on her waist. But it was there. Just that line beyond there, might be Calare. Their Casa. Her bare foot touched the window sill , then tried to lift another.

“Oh, good Lord! Get down.”

A small jolt shook her body as her feet lost contact with surface. Wind whooshed across her ears for a moment until she was on the floor, on her knees, in front of this girl. Emerald-green eyes, a small nose and a face that she would imagine belong to a fox but for a moment, Sal thought she was looking at the mirror in her locket. Like the time she would sneak glances on the reflection of herself in a glass of water.

“ Do you really want to die?” Her harsh voice broke the spell. Sal withdrew her gaze. This was a different person and she does not sound pleased. “ You are in the upper floor of the house, remember that. Another wrong step and the least you get is a broken bone.” This lady was holding her arm.

It was itchy. Take it off.

“ Alright. I won’t grab you again like that.” The lady heaved a sigh.

As soon as the lady let go of her hand, she stepped back to the farthest end of the room and made a goodbye bow. Be gone please. Be gone. And when she did, Sal closed the door of the room, tight.

She slumped down to the floor, watching the stillness around her momentarily broken by a few shrieks and excited cries of children. Many different voices. This room is small, cramped. Moreso than her room back in the Casa. That lady, Ah, yes. She comes in time to time to bring her food, like how she was used to back in the Casa. Only she looked different, emerald- green eyes and hair tied in a long, single braid.

Is this Calare? Far from it. The greenery outside would not tell her where she is. Newspapers. Any written document. The answer must be there. There should be a letter, or a book. Anything, on these small shelves. To her left is a bed, a small mat. On her right, was a chest and a low table. Only the tray of food was left on the table. Nothing else on the chest but clothes. She took them out. A paper must be stashed in between there somewhere. None, just old camisas and scratchy skirts. Under the floorboards, perhaps? Her hands are too small to wreck them open. On the beddings, none. The room was bare of any written material.

She then took the mat, rolled it against its place on the room. It was too heavy, so she kicked it away. On its place was an envelope. Neat, but a bit wrinkled on the edges. Remnants of wax were on the opening. Inside was a letter that read like a conversation among the Mercantile if it was committed to paper. Nothing to tell her anything. But something inside made her freeze.

“Mi Piu Alti Gratis

Sgr. Pablo Geaston Cuorre.”