After Luminous showed me the way out, I couldn’t shake the memory. It gnawed at my heart incessantly. Some nights, I found myself retracing those very steps, a silent witness of my longing. The water system was fixed, and to them, all was right again. But the imprint of His wonder lingered on their cherished idol fountain.

  Days turned, and I adhered to their rules. I immersed myself in the community, deepening connections with those I already knew. I donned the attire they preferred without a murmur, consumed whatever they did, and spoke and acted in accordance with their wishes, without a hint of resistance. It was undeniably challenging.

  Perhaps the most difficult thing I’d ever faced.

  The ‘choosing’, I discovered, occurred every fortnight on a Saturday. I observed, silent and stoic. I listened, then let it pass. But when night fell and I was alone, I sank to my knees and offered my prayers for what transpired that day. My lips had become swollen from the effort of holding back the soul-shattering scream I longed to let loose.

  I prayed each morning, at every interval of the day, and through the night. I understood the necessity of maintaining a constant communion with the Lord to safeguard my sanity - to prioritize His will over my own. My sole solace lay in the hope that someday, no matter how long I remained here, I would witness this entire edifice crumble and pass through the round door of the caves unscathed.

  As the day melted into evening, my eyes became fixed on Chad, his figure leaning wearily against the fountain. His shoulders drooped, and his pallor was an eerie, ghostly white. A surge of determination coursed through my veins, urging me to approach him. Yet, with every step I took, anxiety clawed at me, a silent tempest raging beneath my calm facade.

  Questions gnawed at me. How would he react? Did he even want to talk? I could feel the tension mounting, envisioning him transformed into a feral version of himself, a memory that still haunted me. My fingers dug into my palms, a desperate attempt to steady my resolve.

  A sharp pang shot through my heart as I turned away, an internal battle waging within me. No, I couldn’t do this. Doubt gnawed at my resolve, threatening to suffocate any glimmer of courage.

  Abruptly, I pivoted back, determined to vanquish the shroud of uncertainty that threatened to engulf me. As I approached, the earth crunched beneath my shoes, a rhythmic echo of determination. Seating myself beside him, I released a long, precise sigh, my gaze fixed on the horizon.

  “Are you still regretting this?” I ventured, my voice tinged with a hint of audacity.

  “Regretting what?” His response was measured, a mask of feigned innocence.

  Turning to him, I locked eyes, daring to speak the unspoken. “What you said before we came here.”

  His brows knitted in confusion, a bag of nuts appearing in his hand as if to deflect. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  A wry scoff escaped my lips, a rapid flutter of my eyelids betraying my exasperation.

  “I’m surprised the soon-to-be Mrs. is talking to a servant like me,” he remarked, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

  The gossip spread like wildfire. I hadn’t even accepted the proposal, yet here I was already bestowed with the title of Mrs. I wrinkled my nose, momentarily caught off guard. “Chad.”

  He cocked his head, studying me with an odd gleam in his eye. “Who is that?”

  “You,” I blurted, my bewilderment laid bare.

  “No,” he countered, a hint of mystery in his tone as he said, “My name is Channing.”

  My eyes widened, confusion intertwining with disbelief. I reached for my forehead, fingers tracing the path. “Oh, forgive me,” I stammered. “I must have mistaken you for someone else.”

  He regarded me with a disinterested gaze, returning to his nuts, a haunting tune falling from his lips.

  Panic clawed at me. This was Chad, I was sure of it. What had they done to him? My mind raced, contemplating the unimaginable. They’d tampered with his mind, leaving him as a stranger to himself.

  With a swift step back, I turned away, resolve fueling my search for Pauline. She was nowhere to be found, both in the community and within the castle walls. Where on earth could she be?

  As I turned the corner, I collided headfirst with a solid presence. “Oh, I’m sorry. Not again,” I mumbled, lifting my gaze to discover that it was Luminous.

  His piercing eyes locked onto mine, lips poised to ignite a conversation. A fleeting glint of curiosity danced in his gaze, but then, with a subtle shake of his head, he muttered under his breath, “Watch where you are going, favor.”

  I froze, holding my breath, as if afraid that any movement might shatter the fragile silence. Once he moved away, I exhaled, my heart racing. I pondered what to do next, recalling the age-old wisdom, ‘A time to speak and a time to be silent.’ After a moment of hesitation, I chose silence, resuming my journey to my room.

  Inside, I closed the door with a soft click, only to hear a voice that startled me - Pauline’s.

  “Look,” she said, excitement gleaming in her eyes.

  I turned to face her and my gaze fell upon a brand new bed, nestled by the bookshelf.

  “I requested to be roomies with you like we wanted,” she beamed.

  I gasped, a surge of happiness swelling within me. “That’s wonderful news.”

  Her presence here brought genuine joy. My feelings weren’t deceiving me. However, a lingering concern tugged at my thoughts. How would this arrangement impact my spiritual journey? Praying to the Lord was private for me. Her presence here meant I’d have that taken away.

  Suddenly, she broke into a wide grin. “I have to admit, the whole water-to-blood thing was pretty cool. I can’t deny it,” she conceded, her voice filled with awe. “But it’s still all so overwhelming.”

  “I understand,” I assured her.

  “I’ll mostly keep to myself, and ... ,” she hesitated, then continued, “I’m sorry for mocking your faith.”

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  It wasn’t a full conversion, but it was a step. I could sense a shift in her heart, a transformation wrought by the work of the Lord. His influence was taking hold, and now, I needed only to wait and see what He would do next.

  “So, tell me,” she pressed, curiosity in her eyes. “Is our plan working? I mean, you ...” She bit her lip, searching for the right words. “He is ...”

  “Marrying me,” I finished, crossing to my bed and taking a seat.

  She approached, hands open, a mixture of relief and intrigue in her expression. “That’s not quite how the plan was supposed to unfold, but hey, you’re in.” Her brow furrowed, then lifted in thought.

  “Pauline,” I redirected, my concern for Chad overshadowing the impending wedding. “Chad can’t remember who he is.”

  Her gaze met mine, her face a mask of blank surprise.

  “I thought to check on him,” I explained. “It’s like we slipped his mind since we arrived here.”

  “It’s not just that,” she confessed, hands gesturing. “This place, it’s all-consuming. We become so wrapped up in ourselves.”

  “Too overwhelming ...”

  “Maybe —”

  I interrupted, my distress overtaking me. “This place is responsible. Pauline, you were a servant before you were favored. I narrowly escaped the fate you both endured, and I nearly lost myself.” I buried my face in my hands. “Chad is no longer himself.”

  A heavy silence filled the room. I sensed her presence beside me, the slight shift of the bed confirming her proximity. Her breathing was audible, then she gasped.

  “What if it’s a coping mechanism, a way to preserve his sanity or shield himself from the pain of this place?” she mused. “Perhaps he does remember, but believes he’s someone else to bear it.”

  I shook my head, tears streaming down my cheeks, my voice strained by emotion. “I chose Douglas over Chad.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I met her gaze. “I asked for both of them to become favored. But that couldn’t happen, because they would have to take another soul to replace the servant they lost. Chad is lost because of me.”

  “No, Maddy. Anyone in your position would have faced the same choice, to prevent someone else from ending up here,” she insisted, pointing at herself. “I would have done the same.”

  “Are we just supposed to accept that?” I choked back a sob. “No. No.” I stood abruptly. “I can’t. I won’t let him lose himself here.”

  “You can’t save everyone, Maddy.”

  “I can!” I hurried to the door, determination pulsing through me. “I can save him.” Swinging it open, I raced toward Theodore’s office, passing servants and keepers along the way. In the midst of my urgency, a voice echoed in my mind. ‘What makes you think you can save him?’ It was followed by another thought, ‘You will never save him, for you have no worth. But I can give you worth.’ I halted, a gasp escaping my lips. This was new. I looked around me and thought, Are my insecurities bucking me now? I asked inwardly, Who is speaking to me, Holy Spirit?

  As the voice faded into the background, I proceeded to his office. This time, rather than barging in, I knocked softly. Hearing his invitation to enter, I walked in with a sense of anticipation under my skin.

  Seated at his desk, I began with a touch of gentleness, saying, “Thank you for the time alone. It was precisely what I needed.”

  He responded with a nonchalant, “Mhm, thank you for the acknowledgement.”

  I looked down, ready to make a request, when suddenly, he surprised me with an unusual question, “How are you, Madeline?”

  I shook my head, locking eyes with him, and replied, “I am better. Refreshed, you could say.”

  “That’s good.” He subtly steepled his fingers and continued, “Now that you’ve had time to think, I want you to indulge in what you love most.”

  Uncertain about his request, I felt my shoulders tense slightly and asked, “What do you mean?”

  “I know you have a passion for dance,” he said.

  I chuckled under my breath, astonished by his knowledge. “How did you know that?”

  “A ballet instructor will be arriving soon, along with a couple of my servants who also enjoy it. It’s something we haven’t explored here,” he explained with a subtle smile. “I will promote you as the leader.”

  I admitted, “I haven’t danced in a while. I gave it up for ....”

  “Good grades,” he chimed in.

  Surprised by how well he knew me, I wondered if he had a folder with information on me. But he seemed genuinely concerned as he added, “I care about what you want. As your father, I want you to be happy here.”

  In my mind, I scoffed, recognizing his deceit. He wasn’t my father. I wondered if this was just one of his ways to manipulate my mind, but I nodded and played along, saying, “Thank you, Theodore.”

  I could see the worry in his eyes fading, but little did he know that the tables had turned in this power play. “What did you come here for?” he asked.

  “Chad,” I replied.

  “What about him?”

  “As your ‘child,’ you must be aware of his condition.”

  He smiled at me again and said, “I am. He is fine.”

  “He doesn’t even remember his name,” I pressed my lips together, struggling to maintain a calm demeanor. I wanted to lash out, to call him cruel and unfair, but I remembered my Lord’s words and realized this was just a nightmarish season. “How come?”

  “I am fully aware, dear. It’s a common and expected occurrence here,” he said, resting his hands on the desk, folding them. “He has created a new name, a new identity for himself, which is what we prefer in this place.”

  “A new identity?” I inquired.

  He nodded. “It makes it easier to forget the past. All my children eventually choose new names, and you will, too.”

  I laughed inwardly, sarcastically thinking, I’m sure I will. I smiled and blinked before responding, “I see.”

  “Will that be all?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I replied, rising from my seat. My mind felt heavy, but I managed to add, “Oh, and thank you for letting Pauline share rooms with me.”

  He smiled once more and revealed, “Tonight is a special occasion for a special guest, Madeline. We will be hosting a ball for ... acquire. Jace has prepared tonight’s gown for each of you, and she has made yours to match your performance tonight.”

  Performance? What performance? I cleared my throat and asked, “Performance?”

  He nodded. “When the center is cleared and the music begins to play, I’m confident you will give it your all to impress.”

  He was relentless, pressing me. My voice started to tremble as I said, “I would be embarrassing myself and everyone else.”

  “It will come back to you,” he assured.

  I retorted, “And if it doesn’t?”

  He shrugged confidently, insisting, “It will come back.” He continued with his work, and from that, I knew he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Why was he so fixated on my ability to dance? Was he that desperate to change my perception of this place that he’d now compel me to resurrect a long-forgotten talent?

  Turning on my heels, I left his office, my mind racing with thoughts of how I was going to perform without any prior conditioning. Ugh, this was pure torture.

  Walking down the corridor, I stared at my feet, but this time, a pang of sympathy welled up for them.

  Pushing my hair behind an ear, I crossed my arms over my stomach and made my way to my room. Suddenly, I halted as I spotted a keeper leading six women out of a room, heading toward an unknown destination. Just before the door closed, I glimpsed that it was a medical room.

  I gasped, realization striking me. Oh my gosh. These women must be pregnant. They’re the ones Douglas mentioned. In that moment, a surge of determination surged within me. I needed to do something, anything, to capture their attention.

  Stepping in front of the keeper, I stopped him. “May I see their bellies?” I inquired.

  Initially, engrossed in a clipboard, he exhaled heavily. When he looked up, he cleared his throat, taken aback. “Oh, yes,” he stammered, “but not for too long, please. They have their yoga class soon.”

  Ugh, yoga.

  He snapped his fingers, and since they were all attentive to our conversation, they raised their white cloaks, revealing their subtly swollen bellies.

  I smiled at them and turned to one who seemed particularly shy and timid. “Are you excited?”

  She nodded fervently. “We’ve been setting up our nurseries all morning before the first checkup.”

  “What colors?”

  “Oh,” she tilted her head, “all white and gray. We don’t know the baby’s genders yet, but we’ll find out in another month.”

  If I could have willed my heart to stop, I would have. I couldn’t let them live this lie. “May I give you a congratulatory hug? It’s such a joy to meet you,” I offered.

  She nodded with a wide grin.

  I embraced her and whispered in her ear, “Stay calm.” I felt her hands on my back as I shared my knowledge. “You may never get to meet your baby; they may sacrifice it.” She tightened her hold on me as I continued, “Pray for a way out and wait.” I released her, noticing that her face had turned pale. I smiled at her, gently rubbing her arm. “Precious innocent souls with beating hearts. You,” I addressed them all, “are truly blessed.”

  “Right,” the keeper chimed in, oblivious, “come along now.” He looked at me and nodded. “Favor.”

  They departed, and I prayed that she took my warning seriously, and would pass it on to the others. As the last figure’s cloak swayed in the rush of the wind, an image of the sea flashed across my mind. In an instant, I was assured that they would be free.