Chapter Seven: Beneath the Watchful Stars
The farther they travelled, the more uneasy the little girl became.
Something was watching her.
She could not explain how she knew, but the feeling grew stronger with every step. It was as though an unseen presence followed their movements, patiently observing her from somewhere beyond her sight.
Worse still, the mysterious voices in her head had returned with renewed intensity. Their shrill wailing grew louder beneath the oppressive pressure she felt, threatening to overwhelm her thoughts.
She tried to ignore them.
She had spent eight years enduring those dreadful sounds. Compared to the suffering she had experienced at the hands of the physician, they should have been bearable.
Yet something about this forest was different.
The pressure seemed to grow heavier the farther they travelled, and she could no longer shake the feeling that they were approaching something they were never meant to find.
Under a strange compulsion, she lifted her head and looked towards the night sky.
The stars glittered above them, scattered across the darkness like countless tiny lamps guiding lost travellers through an endless wilderness.
She stared at them for a long moment before drawing in a deep breath.
Then, something extraordinary happened.
The world fell silent.
The shrill wailing in her head abruptly quietened, and the oppressive pressure that had weighed upon her body seemed to recede. A mysterious warmth spread through her limbs, followed by a surge of energy unlike anything she had felt before.
Her exhausted body suddenly felt lighter.
For the first time in eight years, she experienced something close to peace.
She stood beneath the stars, breathing quietly as though she had finally escaped the suffocating darkness that had imprisoned her for so long.
Unfortunately, the moment did not last.
The instant she lowered her gaze from the heavens, the dreadful sounds returned.
Only this time, they were worse.
The wailing crashed into her mind with renewed ferocity, accompanied by a pressure that made her head throb.
She clenched her teeth and lowered her head.
What is happening to me?
She had no answers.
She only knew that something within her reacted strangely to the stars, and whatever that something was, it remained beyond her understanding.
Shaking off her uneasiness, she hurried to catch up with her companions.
She could not afford to fall behind. Not now, when she had finally found people willing to stay beside her.
---
They continued their journey beneath the night sky.
After walking for some time, however, Addo and Miral began to slow down.
Their earlier determination had been replaced by exhaustion. Each step seemed to demand more strength than they possessed, and neither could hide the pain etched across their faces.
For a brief moment, they had forgotten their circumstances.
They had forgotten the poison coursing through their bodies, the countless experiments they had endured, and the physician who had treated their lives as though they meant nothing.
But reality had caught up with them.
The poison had never left their bodies.
Although the substances lingering within Addo and Miral were far less potent than those in the little girl's body, they were still dangerous. Without treatment, their condition would continue to deteriorate.
And unlike the girl, neither of them seemed capable of enduring the poison indefinitely.
"Let's stop for a while," Miral gasped.
She bent forward, placing her remaining hand on her knee as she struggled to catch her breath. Her face had become flushed from exhaustion, and sweat trickled down her temples.
They had been walking for days.
Even under normal circumstances, such a journey would have been difficult. For three children who had endured years of torture, starvation, and poisoning, it was nearly unbearable.
The little girl looked at Miral with concern.
After everything they had suffered, she had hoped that leaving the physician's lair would mean the end of their misery.
Instead, they had exchanged one kind of suffering for another.
She lowered her gaze to her remaining hand.
How long could they continue like this?
Addo was faring no better.
His already thin body had become frighteningly frail, and his skin was pale beneath the dark spots left by the poison. He swayed on his feet, his breathing uneven.
He had spent years working on farms before his kidnapping, but even that experience had not prepared him for this.
Their bodies were breaking down.
They all knew it.
Nevertheless, none of them wanted to be the first to admit defeat.
Addo straightened with considerable effort and looked around for somewhere they could rest.
"We should stay here for the night," he said at last.
He tried to sound reassuring, but the weakness in his voice betrayed him.
Before either girl could respond, his legs gave way.
He collapsed onto the ground with a dull thud.
Miral immediately followed, her strength finally abandoning her.
The little girl remained standing for a moment, staring at her companions.
Then she, too, lowered herself to the ground.
Their condition was terrible.
Miral looked ghastly beneath the moonlight. Her face was pale, and her breathing came in short, uneven bursts. Addo's condition was hardly better. Dark patches covered his skin, and his sunken cheeks made him look far older than his fifteen years.
The little girl watched them silently.
She had grown accustomed to seeing people suffer.
She had watched children writhe in agony as the physician tested his poisons on them. She had listened to their cries, comforted them when she could, and held their hands when they were too weak to speak.
She had also watched them die.
One after another, they had disappeared from her life until she had been left alone in that dreadful room.
Now, she had finally found companions again.
And once more, she was powerless to protect them.
A familiar tightness settled in her chest.
She lowered her head, refusing to dwell on the thought.
No. Not again.
She did not want to lose them.
She had already lost her mother. She had lost Enan, the boy who used to talk to her when the physician was away. She had lost the other children whose names and faces still haunted her memories.
She did not want Addo and Miral to become memories, too.
But wanting something had never been enough to change her fate.
For eight years, she had learned that lesson the hard way.
---
The days passed, and the little girl began to understand that food and water alone would not save her companions.
She could find fruit in the forest and water in the streams, but neither could remove the poison buried deep within their bodies.
Only an antidote could do that.
And the only person who possessed such an antidote was the physician.
The thought made her fingers curl into a fist.
That man had already taken so much from her.
Her childhood. Her friends. Her body.
Even now, after escaping his clutches, his cruelty continued to follow them.
She stared at the ground for a long time before speaking.
"Please don't leave me."
Her voice was barely audible.
She did not know whether she was speaking to Addo and Miral or to the memories of everyone she had lost.
Perhaps it was both.
Addo and Miral heard her words.
They exchanged a glance, their expressions filled with sorrow.
They had known from the beginning that the little girl was different.
She had survived things that would have killed anyone else. She had endured poisons that left grown children writhing in agony, and even after the physician had mutilated her, she had continued to live.
But they had also seen the loneliness hidden beneath her strange resilience.
She had no name.
She had no family waiting for her.
And as far as they knew, she had nowhere to return to.
The two of them had long since accepted that their own lives might soon come to an end. Yet neither wanted this little girl to be left alone again.
They had promised themselves that they would take her back to civilization.
Even if they had to drag themselves there one painful step at a time.
They had no idea whether they would succeed.
Still, they wanted to try.
For her sake.
---
"Little one..."
Miral's weak voice interrupted the silence.
The girl lifted her head.
Miral was staring at her, a faint smile resting on her pale face.
"I am from a farming village," she began. "My parents are farmers, and they have twelve children."
The little girl listened quietly.
She could tell that Miral was struggling to speak. Every word seemed to require considerable effort, and she occasionally paused to catch her breath.
Nevertheless, Miral continued.
"Because we were poor, I had to leave home to look for work. I was still young when I became a servant in a merchant family's household."
She swallowed painfully.
"I was supposed to work for five years. After that, I hoped I could return home with enough money to help my family."
Her smile faded.
"But I never got the chance."
The little girl lowered her eyes.
She already knew what had happened next.
"One day, I was running an errand for the young miss I served when that wicked physician captured me." Miral's voice trembled. "I suppose he thought no one would bother looking for a poor servant girl."
She paused, drawing a shaky breath.
"He was right, wasn't he?"
Neither Addo nor the little girl answered.
There was nothing they could say.
Miral's family had been poor. They had sent her away because they could barely afford to feed their children. The merchant's household had employed her because she was useful, but when she disappeared, they had demanded compensation from her family rather than searching for her.
To the world outside, she was little more than a missing servant.
No one had come for her.
No one had rescued her.
And now, even after escaping the physician's lair, she might never return home.
Tears began to stream down the little girl's face.
She listened as Miral spoke about her family, about the siblings she had left behind, and about the home she had dreamed of seeing again.
She listened to every word.
She did not interrupt.
Somewhere deep inside, she understood that this might be the last time she would hear Miral speak about the life she had lost.
"Little one," Miral whispered.
The girl looked up.
Miral reached towards her with a trembling hand. Her fingers barely managed to brush against the girl's arm.
"Brother Addo..."
Addo slowly turned his head towards her.
"Little one..."
Miral looked between them, her eyes growing increasingly unfocused.
"I am happy I met you."
Her lips curved into a faint smile.
For a moment, the little girl could only stare at her.
Then she noticed Miral's breathing.
It had become slower.
More shallow.
Miral's hand slipped away from the girl's arm and fell limply to the ground.
"Miral?"
The little girl leaned closer.
"Miral, what is wrong?"
There was no answer.
She reached out with her remaining hand and gently shook Miral's shoulder.
"Miral?"
Still nothing.
The little girl's eyes widened.
"No..."
She shook her again, more desperately this time.
"Miral, wake up."
Her voice cracked.
"Please wake up."
But Miral did not move.
The little girl stared at her companion's still face, waiting for the familiar rise and fall of her chest.
She waited for Miral to open her eyes, smile at her, and tell her that everything would be all right.
She waited for something that would never happen.
A sob escaped her throat.
Then another.
Soon, tears were streaming freely down her face.
She had known that this day might come. She had watched countless children die during her years in captivity, and she had understood that the poison in their bodies was slowly killing them.
Yet knowing that someone might die was not the same as watching them leave.
Miral had been kind to her.
She had comforted her when the poison made her writhe in agony. She had called her little one with a warmth the girl had rarely experienced. She had even promised to take her home and ask her parents to accept the girl as another daughter.
For the first time in her life, someone had offered her a place in a family.
Now, that promise had vanished.
Just like everything else.
The girl clutched Miral's cold hand against her chest and wept.
She did not know how long she cried.
She only knew that the familiar tightness in her chest had returned, stronger than ever, and that no amount of crying could make it disappear.
Beside them, Addo remained silent.
His eyes were fixed on Miral's body.
He had heard every word she spoke. He had watched her struggle to breathe, and he had known what was coming long before the little girl understood it.
But he had been powerless to stop it.
Now, another companion was gone.
He closed his eyes, and a tear slipped down his cheek.
The three of them had escaped the physician's lair together.
They had shared fruit, water, and the hope of returning to civilization. They had walked beneath the stars, imagining that perhaps their lives might finally change for the better.
Yet even here, far away from the man who had tormented them, death had found them again.
And this time, there was no one to blame but the poison that continued to consume their bodies.
The little girl lowered her head over Miral's hand.
She had once believed that surviving meant she would eventually find happiness.
Now, she was beginning to wonder whether survival was simply another form of punishment.
Why was she the only one who remained alive?
Why did everyone she grew attached to disappear?
And how much longer would she have to endure this endless cycle of meeting people, losing them, and being left behind?
She had no answers.
Only tears.
Only silence.
And the terrible certainty that the world had not finished taking things from her.
Miral was the first of her companions to leave her.
And the little girl, who had survived eight years of unimaginable suffering, could do nothing but hold her hand and mourn.