Liviana
I stumbled into the female quarters with Sister Daphne supporting most of my weight. Every step sent sharp jolts of pain shooting through my battered body. I bit down on a groan, determined not to show just how much I was hurting.
The female quarters was a long, narrow building separated from the rest of the compound — a place where all the unmarried girls resided. It smelled faintly of mildew and something far less pleasant. Girls as young as eight shared space with women barely older than I was, all crammed together under one sagging roof.
As soon as we crossed the threshold, Sister Daphne halted abruptly. She turned to face me, her hands finding her hips, and her mouth pressed into a tight, thin line. I didn't need her to say a word — I knew a scolding was coming.
I braced myself. Not now, please. Every inch of my body ached. All I wanted was a hot shower and an endless sleep, the kind where pain couldn't follow.
"Livvy!" she snapped, her voice sharp enough to make a few heads turn. "How many times must I tell you? Stop being so bullheaded and obstinate! It doesn't get you anywhere — only straight into trouble and pain."
Her voice echoed in the quiet quarters, a strange mix of anger and deep concern in it.
I lowered my gaze, cheeks burning. Sister Daphne was the only one among the elder women who treated us with anything resembling kindness. The rest of them — the others — were cruel to the core, hiding their wickedness behind the Prophet's name. They moved through the quarters like shadows, sharp-eyed and quick to punish.
"I'm sorry, Sister," I mumbled. "But you know me... if I don't do something crazy in a day, it probably means I'm dead already."
I tried a small, sheepish smile, but instantly regretted it when a sharp sting flared across my split lip. I winced, the taste of blood flooding my mouth.
Sister Daphne's expression softened. She sighed heavily, as if all the air left her at once, and gently took my arm again.
"Come," she said, her voice lower now, wearier. "Sit before you fall."
I obeyed without hesitation, grateful to finally take the pressure off my aching legs. She disappeared briefly and returned with a worn cloth and a bowl of warm water, steam rising from it.
Without a word, I began to undress. Every movement was agony — bruises, cuts, and raw welts protesting even the smallest motion. Sister Daphne said nothing as she set to work, her hands gentle as she cleaned my wounds, dabbing carefully at my battered skin and massaging the worst of the stiffness from my muscles.
After a while, she left again and returned carrying a smaller bowl filled with a murky brown liquid. The smell hit me first — sharp, bitter, utterly foul.
"Drink this," she said, thrusting it toward me. "It'll help with the swelling and the pain."
I peered into the bowl suspiciously. "No way," I protested. "It smells like something died in there. Looks like it too."
She rolled her eyes, the same way a mother would with a stubborn child. "Watch your mouth, girl. It's not that bad. Drink it, and I'll sneak you some good food. Real food, not the scraps we usually get. Then you can rest... before whatever the Prophet has planned next."
Her voice dropped on that last sentence, a flicker of something — fear, maybe — passing across her face.
I sighed heavily and pinched my nose, forcing myself to gulp down the concoction in one go.
"Ugh!" I gagged. "Tastes like dirty sock water!"
Sister Daphne chuckled, clapping me lightly on the shoulder. "Good. Now stay put. I'll get you that food."
She left, returning moments later with a tray covered by a stained white cloth. She set it carefully on my lap, her eyes darting around the room like a thief.
"Eat quickly," she whispered. "Before anyone sees."
I wasted no time. I tore into the meal like a starving animal, shoveling large mouthfuls down my throat. It was delicious — rich, flavorful — a stark contrast to the tasteless slop we were usually fed.
"Slow down, Livvy!" Sister Daphne hissed. "You'll choke!"
"I'm fine," I mumbled between bites, too focused on eating to listen.
I finished just in time, wiping my mouth hastily as she snatched away the tray and scurried off with it.
"Now lie down," she said when she returned. "Rest while you can. You'll need it."
I didn't need to be told twice. Every muscle screamed for relief. I lay back on my thin mattress and let the warm heaviness of the herbal drink pull me down into sleep.
As darkness closed over me, one thought looped through my mind like a prayer:
I have to escape this place. Somehow. Someway.
********
A persistent tapping pulled me out of a deep, blissful sleep.
"Liviana," a voice whispered urgently. "You need to wake up."
No, I thought grumpily. I was having the most beautiful dream — a life outside these walls, laughter, sunlight on my face, the feeling of real freedom.
"Livvy, get up! You've been sleeping for three days straight!"
At that, my eyes snapped open.
"Three days?!" I gasped, struggling to sit up. My limbs felt weak but blissfully pain-free. "No wonder I feel... weird. I don't ache anymore."
Sister Daphne loomed over me, arms crossed, eyebrows raised high.
"I kept checking to make sure you hadn't passed on to the great beyond," she said dryly. "You're lucky you didn't."
I laughed weakly, but it quickly died in my throat when I saw the tension lining her face.
"I also had to cover for you more times than I care to count," she continued. "But I can't do it anymore, Livvy. The Prophet has asked to see you."
Ice water seemed to pour down my spine.
"See me?" I croaked. "Why?"
"I don't know," she said, clearly wishing she could lie. "Now come on. You need to look presentable. You look like something the cat dragged in."
I stumbled out of bed, and she guided me to the communal bathhouse, where other sisters were already being scrubbed down by stern-faced women.
"They're getting washed too?" I whispered, surprised.
"Yes," Sister Daphne said, her voice low. "They were summoned as well."
Relief flooded me. At least I wasn't facing whatever came alone.
The bath was quick and brutal — cold water, rough hands, no time to linger. Afterward, we dressed in our plainest garments and covered our hair with thin scarves.
We had barely finished when the call came.
"The disciples are here," someone whispered.
Outside, Brothers Joseph and Micah waited for us, standing like stone statues.
We lined up obediently, heads bowed, hands clasped in front of us. Brother Joseph led the way, and Brother Micah brought up the rear. I was last in line.
We began walking, silent as shadows.
As we moved through the dusty paths of the compound, a strange noise broke the stillness — the sound of engines, many of them, purring low and powerful.
Curiosity gnawed at me, and before I could stop myself, I lifted my head.
A convoy of gleaming cars was rolling past us. Luxurious, pristine — the likes of which I had never seen outside battered magazines or whispered stories.
And then, as one car crept by, my eyes locked onto a face inside.
He was... breathtaking.
Grey eyes, the color of a gathering storm, stared back at me. His features were carved and sharp — high cheekbones, a strong, straight nose, full, serious lips. His black hair framed his face like a halo, and dark tattoos snaked up his neck and disappeared under the crisp collar of his shirt.
Time slowed. I drank him in with greedy eyes, memorizing everything.
Then, remembering myself, I dropped my gaze, heart pounding.
The car drifted past, and the spell broke. We continued walking, but my mind stayed fixed on the man in the car.
Who was he?
Why was he here?
Before I could ponder it further, we were stopped. A guard hurried over to Brother Joseph, whispering urgently.
Brother Joseph nodded curtly, then turned to Brother Micah.
"We'll take them to the outhouse. The Prophet has guests."
We were herded off the main path and led to a small building set apart from the others — the outhouse, a place of waiting and uncertainty.
We filed in silently.
As I sat there, staring at the cracked walls, my thoughts drifted back to him — the stranger with stormy eyes.
A god among mortals.
I didn't know it then.
He wasn't just passing by.
He was going to change everything.