chapter eight

In the hush of the evening, Elen's eyes opened slowly, the glow of the bedside clock illuminating the room. The time, nine in the evening, shocked her. With a sudden burst of energy, she sprang from the bed and raced to the door. Her small frame strained as she pushed it open and made her way down the long corridor, marveling at the grandness of the house. "This place is massive," she whispered to herself. Lost in the labyrinth of hallways, she wandered until she stumbled upon the garden.

"It's so beautiful," she breathed, gazing at the colorful flowers. "I wish I was just born normal. Maybe I could live peacefully."

Elen strolled through the garden, touching the petals of each flower. She was captivated until her eyes fell on a striking red rose in full bloom. A prick of a thorn caused her to yelp as blood oozed from the tiny wound.

She gazed at the injury, the blood slowly oozing out, and pondered, "It doesn't hurt me anymore." Her delicate fingers were stained crimson, yet she fel