"Come in," Ema said, covering herself with a bath towel.

  An older woman entered with a measuring tape around her neck. "I am the resident tailor. Lady Hanna wishes for me to take your measurements." "Why?" Ema asked. "For the dresses," the woman answered curtly. She wasn't a talkative person. She seemed strict, efficient. She positioned Ema in the middle of the room and began measuring her. Shoulders, waist, hips, leg length. She noted everything in a small notepad. She remained silent. When she finished, she bowed and left.

  After Ema dressed, Heinrich was already waiting for her outside the door. "Respected Lady Ema, dinner is served."

  He led her to the hunting hall. It was an imposing space. Dark wood floors, trophies on the walls—heads of deer, wild boars, even a bear. They stared at her with glass eyes. A crystal chandelier hung above a massive oak table. Hanna sat at the head of the table. She smiled and motioned for Ema to take the seat to her right.

  Servants began bringing out the food. It was a feast. First, a strong garlic soup with croutons that smelled of marjoram. Then a hearty potato soup with mushrooms. For the main course, roast duck, red cabbage, a variation of dumplings. Salads, bowls of fruit. And finally, desserts—Czech sweet buns and German cream cakes. The aroma filled the hall. Ema realized how terribly hungry she was. She hadn't eaten anything proper in a long time. In Prague, it was just instant soups, gas station baguettes, and cheap sweets.

  She dug into the food. It tasted ecstatic. "You can have anything, Ema," Hanna said, watching her with pleasure. "No one else is coming today. It's just us."

  Ema slowly set down her cutlery. The duck was excellent, the meat melting on her tongue, and the warming sensation of satiety temporarily drowned out the constant, intrusive heartbeat of anxiety within her. Yet, she couldn't help herself. She looked around the opulent dining room, at the crystal chandeliers and heavy velvet curtains. It all felt like a dream from which she must wake up at any moment, back into the mud and dust of the vanished city.

  "Lady Hanna..." she began quietly, lowering her eyes to the table. "I... I don't even know how to say it. Thank you. For everything. For the clothes, for taking care of me, for this food. But... I don't understand. Why me? Why are you treating me like this when I'm just... a nobody from the streets?"

  Hanna elegantly wiped the corners of her mouth, and for a brief moment, the reflection of the candles seemed to dance in her eyes like in a deep, calm pool. Her face was without a single wrinkle, smooth as alabaster, yet it bore the gaze of someone who had lived through quite a bit in this world.

  "A nobody from the streets, Ema?" Hanna smiled slightly, but then her expression grew serious and gallant. "I understand you've been through hell and your modesty is your shield, but you shouldn't underestimate yourself. An enormous number of people perished in the place where you were. Even powerful people from our ranks met their end there. The fact that you survived such a massacre and managed to get out of that location cannot be a coincidence. Even if you don't fully understand what exactly happened right now, I believe that when the time is right, you will tell me yourself. But you don't have to fear anything anymore. You are here. You will become part of our Family."

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  Hanna leaned toward her. An intense, searching interest burned in her eyes. She lowered her voice until it was soft as velvet designed to wrap a sharp truth.

  "Try to remember that moment on the meadow. Not what you saw with your eyes, but what you felt inside. Close your eyes and go back there."

  Ema obeyed. Her eyelids fluttered. "There was... there was a sunrise," she whispered, mentally returning to that desolate, freezing place. She saw it again—the horizon on fire, the long shadows of the trees, and the unbearable emptiness around her.

  "And?" Hanna prompted her urgently, never taking her eyes off her. "What was happening inside you? How did you feel when you were completely alone there?"

  "I wanted to cry," Ema admitted, her voice breaking. She clasped her hands in her lap. "No, that's an understatement. I was so desperate I thought my heart would physically shatter. I felt a pressure in my chest, like something was crushing me from the inside. I wanted to scream, but I had no voice. And at the moment when that pressure reached its peak... when I couldn't hold it in anymore... suddenly it started to rain."

  Hanna gave her a radiant, triumphant smile. "It started to rain? Out of nowhere? Under a completely clear sky, just as the sun was rising above the horizon and meteorologists predicted a clear day?"

  Ema snapped her head up. Now, when Hanna said it out loud like that, placing the facts side by side, it hit her. The absurdity. The impossibility.

  "Yes... it was strange," she exhaled, her brow furrowing in concentration. "First there was nothing in the sky. And then, in a single second, a downpour broke out. I was cold, I was shivering, but... the rain was different. It wasn't icy. It became warm. Salty and warm, like..."

  "Like tears," Hanna finished for her softly.

  "Like tears," Ema repeated in awe. "Almost as if the rain wanted to hug me when there was no one else there. And then... then I just wished so desperately in my mind for it to stop. I wanted peace. I couldn't stand the noise of the drops. And for a moment... just for a tiny, fleeting moment..."

  She paused, as if afraid it would sound crazy.

  "Go on," Hanna whispered, leaning even closer. "What happened to the drops?"

  "I felt like they were avoiding me," Ema breathed, looking at her palms. "That they were falling all around, pounding the ground, the grass, but a dry bubble formed around me. Like I had an invisible umbrella."

  Hanna looked at her with a deep, maternal understanding that made Ema want to confide in her, or burst into tears. "I know it's hard for you to believe, Ema," she said quietly, her voice caressing the air. "Your reason resists; it searches for logical explanations where there are none. It's a natural defense of the mind. But sometimes... sometimes words just aren't enough. Sometimes you have to see to be able to believe."

  Without further warning, with a casualness as if reaching for the salt shaker, Hanna extended a manicured hand toward a large copper pot of soup standing in the middle of the table. It was only lukewarm by now. Hanna lightly touched its cold rim with the pad of her index finger.

  For a second, nothing happened. The silence in the dining room was absolute. And then the physics in the room went mad. The contents of the pot began to boil wildly. Not gradually, but instantly. Steam shot up to the ceiling like a white pillar with a sharp hiss. The surface of the soup bubbled in a wild, chaotic dance, liquid sputtering over the edge as if an invisible volcano had erupted beneath the bottom of the pot. The heat radiated so intensely that Ema felt the warmth on her face even from across the table.

  And then—in a single flash, faster than the blink of an eye—everything changed.