She didn't know how, nor why. She was fully awake, supposedly trapped in a garden, surrounded by children wearing the same white clothes. The young girl's eyes widened in fear; she grabbed a lock of wavy purple hair that fell just past her shoulders and brought it to her mouth, as if performing an old, automatic gesture. Beyond not knowing where she was, fragmented glimpses drifted through her mind: a dormitory, a dining table, a piano room, and a dirty cup filled with a strange liquid. Nothing more than that.
She barely had time to navigate her thoughts. Nearby, in the center of the yard, a very fat dog wearing a funny indigo-blue bow tie emerged from his doghouse and barked toward a boy with a red mohawk and grayish skin, who—disturbingly—began thrashing around and striking his own head amid the dog's frantic barking.
Carelessly, the boy bumped into a girl who stood frozen like the others, sending her flying toward a ceramic flowerbed.
"Eek…" the purple-haired girl exclaimed, startled.
Almost instinctively, the girl extended one arm, pointing at the child who was mere centimeters away from crashing into the planter. A golden light appeared at the same time, and a strange sensation surged through her entire body, radiating from the palms of her hands. Leaves and flowers grew far beyond their normal size, almost instantly, enveloping the entire flowerbed in a floral embrace that cushioned the impact.
In that moment, the girl stared at her own hands in shock as the golden light faded and the pale pinkish tone of her skin returned to normal. A searing pain seized her head, forcing her to crouch and massage her temples in an attempt to ease the discomfort. Sounds of nature echoed from somewhere beyond—leaves, rivers, a vast forest—but, like a chalkboard being wiped clean, her deeper memories vanished. It was as if recollections were trying to break through an invisible barrier in an endless struggle. But only two things surfaced in her mind: her name and her age.
"I'm Nessaldon… and I'm ten years old," she murmured to herself.
Once again, the headache returned. She lowered her head until it rested between her knees, doing her best not to scream or cry. For a while, nothing seemed to make sense; she heard shouting and barking, but in that moment nothing truly registered.
When the pain subsided, she stood up—but dizziness made her misstep, and she accidentally bumped into a wooden swing. The swing screeched loudly due to lack of lubrication. Startled, she hurried behind a bench, hoping no one had noticed.
Remaining crouched, her back to the center of the yard, she tried to contain the trembling and chills. Taking advantage of a brief lull, she turned to observe the chaos again: there she saw a gray-skinned boy with a red mohawk and a girl similar to herself, with pointed ears and very white hair.
Her heart raced. She wanted time to stop; she wanted to disappear—or rather, she wanted to understand where she was. She quickly concluded that the gray-skinned boy was frightening. The other girl, however, didn't seem threatening: she was slightly taller than Nessaldon, with very pale skin and white hair that made her purple eyes stand out vividly. What made Nessaldon even more embarrassed was realizing that, from the center of the yard, both the boy and the girl were looking directly at her, watching her from behind the bench.
That was when a clack echoed from the door leading into the manor, and a large, fat man with a thick red beard, a heavy coat, and reinforced boots entered the yard like a mangy dog, scratching his own belly.
"What the hell did you do to poor Ruffos?!" the man bellowed, taking cautious steps back as he noticed the dog tied up like a pig in one corner of the yard.
"It's your turn, you fat bastard… you're about to meet the fury of Baruk!" the boy stretched himself fully, locking eyes with Ghinorf.
Ruffos, in the corner of the yard, watched his handler from the corner of his eye but showed no reaction; he seemed to have lived the greatest adventure of his life trying to escape the boy named Baruk, now lying on the ground, tied up, tongue hanging out and chest heaving with exhaustion.
Nessaldon's eyes widened. She didn't understand what was happening, much less who those people were. Noticing that everyone was distracted, she decided to move farther away, slipping between children who, like her, wore white clothes and slippers. The strangest part was that none of them seemed to notice the commotion. Nessaldon lifted her gaze toward the hedge, searching for an opening to escape.
The two—the red-bearded man and the boy—studied each other for a few moments. Baruk raised his arms, ready to react. Ghinorf seemed to struggle to process the situation with his limited reasoning, but he knew he had to restrain the awakened boy.
"Stay where you are, brat!" Ghinorf's voice wavered in a failed attempt to sound intimidating. "You should be sleeping!"
"Come over here and test whether I'm sleeping." Baruk shot back, ending with a forced laugh.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Nessaldon began climbing the hedge. To her surprise, she found it easy, even with the thorns. She glanced back and saw the white-haired girl staring at her with wide eyes, making subtle warning faces. Nessaldon ignored the silent signal and kept climbing.
"That spineless idiot must've mixed the potion wrong," Ghinorf muttered to himself. Then he opened his heavy coat, revealing a leather pouch strapped to his waist. From it, he pulled a cup similar to the ones from the dining hall and a rounded glass vial wrapped in twine.
"It's not good for brats like you to be awake and wandering around," he said, now with sarcasm. "This should take care of it…"
The lilac liquid shimmered.
Nessaldon's eyes widened at the sight of the vial. She couldn't explain why, but she felt it was dangerous. She hurried her climb; she was close to the top. Elara did the same, but chose to remain hidden.
Chaos erupted.
The moment Ghinorf tried to lunge at Baruk with the cup, gripping the boy's shoulder with his free hand, time seemed to stop. Nessaldon saw the forest beyond the hedge—green, vast, free. She smiled. But in the blink of an eye, everything warped. Colors faded like an old painting.
A thunderous boom.
An invisible dome enveloped the yard. Dark energy surged across its surface like silent lightning, violently converging at a single point. Nessaldon was struck head-on and hurled backward, crashing into a wooden table with a deafening impact.
"What was that?!" Ghinorf shouted, terrified.
That was when Baruk reacted.
Grabbing the arm that held him, Baruk stared deep into Ghinorf's eyes.
"This isn't the kitchen, you lardball!" the boy mocked.
Then, with his free hand, he drove his elbow backward with full force, landing a brutal blow to the man's groin. Ghinorf fell back, dropping the cup and its contents.
"Arrgh!" Ghinorf screamed in pain—the hit had landed squarely.
"Yahoo!" Baruk roared in triumph.
Seizing the distraction, Elara left her hiding place and sprinted across the yard to the wooden table where Nessaldon had landed.
"Are you okay?" Elara asked.
"Uh…" Nessaldon replied, startled by Elara's closeness. "Easy, easy—I'm just like you," Elara said calmly, pointing at the white clothes. "Do you remember your name?"
Nessaldon didn't answer. She was still frightened, wary.
The chaos at the center of the yard wasn't over. Ghinorf recovered from the blow and, as soon as he got to his feet, roaring with rage, hurled his massive body onto Baruk.
"Get off me, damn it!" Baruk snapped, struggling to break free.
"It's time for you to go back to dreaming, you little runt!" Ghinorf managed to snake one arm around Baruk's neck, pinning him against his shoulder, even as he kept taking punches.
Finding the smallest opening, Ghinorf grabbed the leather pouch again and pulled out the glass vial entirely. He popped the cork with his thumb and brought it toward Baruk's mouth as the boy thrashed.
That sight triggered an alarm inside Elara. Without thinking twice, her voice rang out across the yard:
"No!"
The shout sliced through the air like a blade, and the man hesitated for a split second—giving Baruk an opening.
"I'm not drinking that shit!" Baruk yelled with such rage that something about him seemed different. His muscles tightened, veins bulged, and his pupils turned completely white.
With agility, Baruk yanked his leg back and, in a swift movement, broke free from the hold. He followed with two heavy punches to Ghinorf's belly, forcing him to stagger.
The attack wasn't strong enough to knock him down entirely. Perhaps thanks to his enormous gut—his greatest shield—the man remained standing, still clutching the vial.
"If it weren't for him, you'd be dead already, you little brat!" Ghinorf growled, panting.
At the mention of "him," both girls felt a chill. Neither could explain why, but their bodies reacted instinctively, gripped by fear and alertness. Baruk, however, seemed unconcerned.
When he saw Ghinorf beginning to recover, he lunged again. In a quick motion, he closed his fist and smashed it into the man's nose, drawing blood.
This time, the glass vial finally slipped from Ghinorf's hand and shattered on the ground.
"I don't give a damn whether you're food or not!" Ghinorf shouted, vision blurred, metallic blood flooding his mouth. "I'll shut you up myself, you bastard!" he roared, now nasal from his broken nose, charging once more.
With surprising agility and strength, the man lunged with both hands, blocked a few punches, and finally landed a vicious slap to Baruk's neck.
The two tangled in the center of the yard, trading blows and grapples. The girls watched in terror, unsure what to do. Elara extended a hand to Nessaldon, who hesitantly accepted help climbing down from the table.
"That was quite a fall," Elara remarked.
Nessaldon lowered her gaze, embarrassed.
"We have to do something," Elara said, eyes back on the fight as the two were about to stumble into a cluster of catatonic children.
Before she could act, frightened and unsure, Nessaldon extended her hand once more. A greenish glow flared in her palms, and she pressed them against the grass.
As if by magic, a pool of mud formed beneath the two combatants, causing them to slip in place.
"Ahh!" they shouted in unison.
Splash!
Both crashed heavily to the ground, mud splattering everywhere—missing the motionless children by mere inches. With the slip, Baruk managed to free himself and, despite poor footing, mounted Ghinorf's neck, attempting to lock in a chokehold. Baruk didn't know how, but he felt he had a natural aptitude for physical combat.
Off-balance though he was, Ghinorf was still strong. He planted one knee on the ground and grabbed Baruk's mohawk, pulling desperately. With his other hand, he tried to pry the boy's choking arm away—unsuccessfully. Finally, he clenched his fist and threw blind punches backward: the first missed, the second missed… but the third struck Baruk square in the mouth.
The blow only fueled the boy's fury.
"Go out, you pig—go out!"
Then, two things happened at the same time.
Still consumed by the fight, neither noticed what was coming from outside. Elara and Nessaldon decided to act together.
A spark of fire cut through the air and struck the red-bearded man's beard, scorching his mustache and burning his cheeks. He screamed in pain and barely had time to register the new threat: Elara, arms outstretched, a bright red light blazing from her fingers, smoke curling upward.
At that same instant, something grabbed his foot.
In a burst of courage, Nessaldon ran forward screaming and seized Ghinorf's heels. Before he could recover, the man lost his balance completely and fell face-first into the mud.
Ghinorf was finally losing strength. He stopped pulling Baruk's hair and focused solely on trying to push away the arms choking his neck. Blood no longer circulated properly, turning his face red as a pepper.
"Why… why did you wake…?" he gasped, breathless.
Elara moved fast. She snatched the vial with the lilac liquid from the ground and rushed forward.
"Open his mouth!" she shouted.
Exhausted, Baruk used one hand to squeeze the man's cheeks, forcing his mouth open just enough for Elara to pour some of the liquid down Ghinorf's throat.
"You… are food… I ate…" he tried to say.
Then he stopped.
His face went blank. Ghinorf no longer reacted. His movements ceased, and he lay still—just like the children in the yard. His eyes remained open, empty, like a shell sunk into an endless dream.
Baruk released the man's neck and dragged himself out of the mud. Nessaldon did the same, letting go of the leg she had been holding.
"Hahaha! Nobody can stop me!" Baruk declared victoriously, even as blood stained his tusks and a future black eye was already forming.
After a few seconds, Nessaldon shrank back when she realized both of them were looking at her.
"And you… thanks for the help," Baruk said, addressing the shy girl.
"Uh…" Nessaldon tried to reply, but couldn't quite find the words.
Elara surveyed the yard. None of the other children reacted, even after all the chaos.
"Are you two okay?" she asked.
"I'm great!" Baruk replied with a grin, despite now sporting a gap where a lower incisor had once been.
Elara turned to Nessaldon, who simply nodded.
"Do you remember anything? Why we're here?" Elara pressed.
"Not a thing, not a thing," Baruk shrugged, carefree.
Both turned to Nessaldon, who let out a small squeak.
"Nooo…"
"Well… the only thing I remember is my name. My name is Elara."
"My name is Baruk," the boy said, pointing his thumb at his chest. "You two fight well. I liked what I saw!"
Still shy, Nessaldon stepped forward.
"Baruk, right?" she asked. "What…—" she thought for a moment. "What are you?"
Baruk looked at his own body, confused.
"Huh? I'm a boy. You're girls, right?"
"No, you fool!" Elara cut in. "She meant what you are. We're elves," she explained, pointing at their pointed ears.
"Oh, got it. Well, I'm an orc. Look at my tusks!" Baruk replied proudly.
He showed off his large lower tusks, contrasting with his grayish skin.
"That's incredible! I think it's the first time I've ever seen someone like you," Ness said, excited. "My name is Nessaldon… but you can call me Ness. I think that's what they used to call me," she added, gaining confidence.
The three of them breathed a sigh of relief.
They were no longer alone.
A gentle wind passed through the yard, carrying with it the ancient scent of the house ahead—old wood, dust, and something else, something they couldn't quite name. The mansion waited in silence, as if it had just awakened along with them.