I’m back in the darkness and a creature is attacking me, wrestling with my limbs as I try to free myself from its grasp. If it’s anything like the demons from that hell…

“Grab her!” I hear. It’s pitch black and I jerk my head around trying to pinpoint the source of the sound. 

“Lady Florence, calm yourself!” 

Lady Florence? My arms slow. The demons had never called me that. Only the angels had.

As soon as there is an opening, strong arms haul me up and off whatever I was wrestling, until I’m standing. 

“Calm yourself,” the voice repeats. “You’re safe now.”

“I can’t see,” I tell them. “Why can’t I see?” Even I can hear the fear warbling my voice. My hoarse, broken voice. What is wrong with me?

“It’s a side effect of being under for so long. We sped the process of healing, so you should regain your sight soon. Though, your eyes may be sore.”

I can feel the man's warm breath fluttering my hair as he speaks. My cheeks grow warm as his iron arms remain firmly wrapped around me. Surely, this is improper! 

“You may release me, now,” I say. “Whoever you are.” I am pleased—I sound much older than I am. 

“Forgive us,” one of them says, leading me to a chair so I can sit while my sight slowly returns. “I am Russo Whitebranch, High Cleric to King Roark Aurelius deh Doran.”

“I am Felix Whitebranch, Cleric to King Roark Aurelius deh Doran.” Their voices sound almost identical, but Felix’s is softer, a little more gentle. “I’ll fetch your maid now.”

My maid? Not mother and father?

An ominous hand grips my heart. I abandon the bunch of fabric I’d been scrunching and unscrunching in my lap and start to examine myself with my fingers. Was there something else wrong with me besides my blindness?

My face feels…bony. I guess I’ve been asleep long enough to lose some weight. Perhaps it’s been a few months.

But, as my hands move down my body, I immediately notice other changes that could not have happened in a mere few months. I feel my cheeks grow warm again and quickly withdraw my hands from my chest.

I’m…not flat. 

Thankfully, I hear the sound of a woman entering the room. I’ll ask her. Besides, she probably works here and knows more about what’s been going on. Especially if I’ve been asleep longer than I thought. 

Suddenly, a wave of sadness begins to crest within me, rising with a force that threatens to choke me.

“Lady Florence,” I hear the woman say. “Oh, my! Oh, she can’t see me yet? I’m Mary, one of your maids. I’m here to get you bathed and dressed.”

“Oh,” I say, my voice thick, struggling with the fast pace of everything. Isn’t anyone going to tell me what happened to me? “How long was I asleep?”

My question silences the room—for a moment I panic, thinking my hearing is gone, as well, until I hear one of the clerics clear his throat. 

“This is Russo speaking, Lady Florence,” he begins. I hear him walk toward me, then crouch or kneel by the chair. I jump when he grabs my hand. Is he trying to comfort me? My heart begins to race in anticipation of terrible news. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but you were cursed when you were twelve years old, which put your body into a sleep-like state, while your mind wandered what us clerics refer to as a Hellscape.”

“Aptly named,” I interrupt, trying to still my shaking limbs. Russo’s grip tightens. 

“Lady Florence, you were asleep for seven years. You’re nineteen years old this week.”

My stomach drops as my skin erupts in the pins and pricks of gooseflesh. 

Seven years. Seven years! 

I attempt to stand, but Russo gently pulls me back down. “Please, remain seated my lady. I know you must be shocked.”

A whimper escapes, so I pull one hand free to clamp over my mouth, which is as dry as paper. 

Can I even remember what my life was like before I went to sleep? I suppose it doesn’t matter, does it? None of it matters—none of it’s valid if seven years have gone by. 

I have a terrible thought. 

“My parents?” What if something happened to them? What if they're dead?

“The Duke and Duchess are alive and well up in the mansion,” Mary provides. Thank goodness! I wait for her to say more, but she doesn’t. “And my brother, my sister?”

“They are also alive and well, my lady.” I can feel my brow furrow. Why does it feel like they aren’t telling me everything? “Shall we get you to your bath now, my lady?”

I don’t really have a choice, as Russo hauls me up and steers me toward what must be the bathing chamber. 

Then, Mary’s words catch up to me—the Duke and Duchess are alive and well up in the mansion. Does that mean I am not in the mansion?

“Where are we, Mary?” My voice echoes.

We’re alone in the bathing chamber. I stand still as she pulls my shift over my head and guides me to the tub of warm water. I step in and sink to my neck, instantly enveloped in bliss.

Warmth!

I’m so lost in the sensation I haven’t felt in seven years that I almost miss her answer.

“We’re in the East Annex, my lady.” What?

“Why? Are they remodeling the main house, perhaps?"

Mary pauses while scrubbing my hair. “Forgive me, but I think the rest of your questions should wait for the Duke and Ducchess, my lady. I don’t want to tell you something in error.”

For a moment, I think it’s my anger and frustration making me see red, then I realize my sight must be coming back.

“Is this chamber pink, by chance?”

Mary gasps. “Yes! Yes, it is, my lady! Is your sight returning?”

“I think it must be.” I smile as Mary rinses my hair with more wonderful warm water.

Finally, something is happening as it should. Finally, I feel my brow relax.

Once my sight is back, I’ll get to the bottom of everything. It will all be just fine.

I simply have to keep ignoring the quiet, terrified voice in the back of my mind that keeps repeating, seven years, seven years, seven years...

♥♥♥⸸

Felix could no longer feel his knees, but that did not matter. He would kneel until he could no longer recall the forbidden, sinful sight he had accidentally glimpsed earlier that day. He would kneel until he could no longer recall the feel of Lady Florence writhing on top of him as they had brought her out of the hellscape. In her confusion, she had attacked him—pushed him onto the bed and jumped on top of him. It was then that he had accidentally seen down her shift. Where she wore nothing beneath.

The experience had awakened something shameful within him. For the first time, he questioned his choice as a cleric and wondered what it would be like to marry someone like Lady Florence, if not Lady Florence herself. To have children with her. 

He hissed again in agony, his cheeks aflame with shame.

“Forgive me, Saint Dora, for I have sinned greatly,” he cried, bowing in front of the altar until his forehead touched the stone. 

Seek forgiveness, my child, but not from me. 

His breath hitched—he heard his goddess! Tears collected in Felix’s eyes and silently fell to the stone below. She had bestowed her wisdom upon him. And he would heed her. 

First, he must repent. He must pay for the impure thoughts and desires he had harbored since the afternoon. 

For as long as it took, until he forgot, he would kneel. 

He would quell the desire in his heart. He would forget.

He would kneel. 

The pain would wash away the tempting memories so that nothing...problematic remained. Only then would he be able to face Lady Florence and beg her forgiveness.

Then, he would kneel at her feet.