The carriage trundled gently over the cobblestones of Aegis.

  Through the window, I watched the city unfold—a kaleidoscope of life. Skilled artisans worked diligently on the ornate facades of houses, their hammers and chisels ringing in the crisp air. City Watch guards patrolled the streets with a stern but watchful presence. Children, their laughter echoing, played lively games in the wider avenues, dodging pedestrians and carts.

  And everywhere, people talked, laughed, ate together at outdoor cafes, or gathered in small groups, seemingly celebrating everyday life.

  But a glance down the narrower alleyways often revealed a starkly different picture. Homeless individuals, wrapped tightly in threadbare blankets, huddled against cold stone walls, their eyes hollow. I saw a scuffle where someone was clearly being robbed in broad daylight, ignored by passersby. Women, their faces painted in garish colours, openly offered their… ‘services’… on street corners, sometimes concluding their business right there in shadowed doorways. And, of course, there were the brutish thugs, confidently collecting ‘protection money’ from frail shopkeepers or sick-looking individuals who couldn't fight back.

  Sighing, I turned my gaze away from the grim reality, just in time to see Pip looking out the opposite window with avid curiosity, her tail twitching. Lady Irene, meanwhile, was completely engrossed in a thick, leather-bound book, seemingly oblivious as we drove into a quieter district where fewer people thronged the streets.

  A strange mixture of anticipation and nervousness churned in my stomach.

  What would the orphanage be like? Who was in charge there? Were the people who worked there kind, or cruel like Lord Ainsworth? Were the children okay, or neglected and miserable? How would they behave? And, a more chilling thought: would I end up in some kind of institution for difficult children… especially after I’d nearly turned Lord Ainsworth into a pancake with my uncontrolled magic?

  Gods, please no.

  We continued along the bumpy cobblestone road, the number of grand houses gradually diminishing. The carriage gave a final lurch, and the rattling of the wheels softened as we seemingly transitioned from stone to a softer dirt track. More and more trees began to appear on either side of the road, their branches intertwining overhead, and soon we were driving through what felt like a dense forest.

  A forest, right in the middle of the city? Strange.

  Pip, however, seemed to love it. She pressed her nose against the window, her eyes wide, making that excited chattering sound only cats can produce when they spot birds darting between branches or squirrels scampering up tree trunks, potential prey just out of reach.

  After a short while, the dense forest thinned, giving way to a wide, sun-dappled meadow. Suddenly, a group of children, their faces bright with excitement, ran alongside the carriage, waving and laughing. I caught a brief glimpse of a young woman kneeling by the roadside, comforting a small, tearful girl. As we passed, both the woman and the little girl looked up, saw Pip in the window, and waved at us with genuinely warm smiles.

  We drove a few more meters across the meadow before the carriage finally came to a smooth halt.

  Lady Irene looked up from her book, a small, reassuring smile on her face, and promptly closed the volume with a soft snap. “We’re here.”

  Shit. Now that we’d actually arrived, a queasy feeling settled in my stomach. But why? The children we’d just seen looked happy, well-cared for, certainly not neglected. The young woman by the road had seemed incredibly kind. Logically, there was no real reason for this sudden unease.

  But then again, logic hadn’t been a particularly reliable guide in this new world so far.

  Whatever. No point worrying about it now. Time will tell, as always.

  The carriage door opened, and a rush of fresh, clean forest air, tinged with the scent of pine and damp earth, flowed into the cabin. Lady Irene stood, smoothed down her elegant blue robes, and gracefully stepped out of the carriage. I carefully scooped up Pip, who was already staring longingly at the outside world, her nose twitching. I gently stroked her head, and she responded with a contented purr that vibrated through my chest. Taking a deep breath of the clean air, I followed Irene out.

  Children seemed to materialize from everywhere, running towards us from various directions, yet they quickly and quietly formed an orderly group a respectful distance before us. It was a diverse assembly, from laughing, rosy-cheeked toddlers clutching handmade dolls to older, bored-looking teenagers trying to appear cool and indifferent.

  They waited patiently, their eyes fixed on Lady Irene. When she said nothing immediately, just stood there observing them, I frowned in confusion. Then, I heard soft footsteps beside us. Turning, I saw the young woman from the roadside approaching, holding the little girl by the hand. They both smiled warmly and joined the group of children.

  The young woman was strikingly beautiful, perhaps in her mid-twenties, with a clear, rosy complexion, rich walnut-brown hair that cascaded from beneath her veil, and eyes of a startlingly bright blue. Her clothing was simple but elegant, reminiscent of a nun’s habit. It consisted of two layers: an inner, dove-blue gown, and an outer, dark grey robe-like garment that draped over her shoulders. A long, dove-blue veil covered her hair, flowing down her back but leaving her face and much of her hair visible.

  But what truly caught my attention, what made me stare, was the tattoo on her forehead: a delicate black outline of a single water drop, or perhaps a tear?

  Before I could even begin to process that, more footsteps approached. Two other women stepped forward this time, positioning themselves directly in front of the group of children, facing us.

  The first woman appeared to be in her late thirties or early forties, with long, honey-blonde hair, and calm brown eyes that held a neutral, almost unreadable expression. She wore the same style of layered clothing as the younger woman, but hers was entirely in muted, light earth tones. And she too had a tattoo on her forehead: the black outline of a perfect circle.

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  And at the sight of the last woman, a genuine shiver of unease traced its way down my spine.

  She was older, perhaps in her early sixties. Her grey hair was pulled back severely, and she wore the same style of garments as the other two, but hers were a drab green-grey, with a mud-coloured veil. A simple, stark vertical line was tattooed on her forehead.

  Her face was pale, gaunt, her lips pulled down in a permanent thin line of disapproval. She looked perpetually annoyed, almost malicious. But her eyes… her eyes were what truly unsettled me. They glowed with an eerie, unnatural orange light, and when those eyes fixed on me, the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stood on end. I got goosebumps all over. That icy, penetrating gaze struck me to the core.

  Even Pip, usually so bold, pressed herself against my chest, her ears flattened fearfully, making herself as small as possible. My first instinct was to climb right back into the carriage and tell the driver to turn around, fast.

  But before I could act on that impulse, the blonde woman with the circle tattoo spoke, her voice polite, formal, but devoid of warmth.

  “Lady Irene, we have been expecting your arrival. You honor us with your presence.”

  As she spoke, all three women, and all the children behind them, bowed their heads respectfully towards the enchantress. Even the old woman, the one who looked more like an animated corpse than a living person, lowered her head in a gesture of humble deference.

  Frowning, my eyes wide with surprise at this display, I looked at Lady Irene. She, however, merely massaged the bridge of her nose and let out an exasperated sigh.

  “Verity, must this happen every single time?”

  The young woman with the brown hair and the teardrop tattoo let out a small, quickly stifled giggle. The blonde woman, Verity, lifted her head again, her brown eyes meeting Lady Irene’s with an unwavering, emotionless stare.

  “Yes,” she stated simply.

  Shaking her head with another sigh, Lady Irene seemed to resign herself to the formality. Verity then turned to the older, unsettling woman. “Grimelda. Please take the children inside and see that supper is prepared. And Elodie,” she glanced at the younger woman, “you will stay, please.”

  Okay, good to get names. I mentally filed them away. The youngest, kind-looking one was Elodie. The mummy-like creature with the death stare was Grimelda. And the apparent leader of this orphanage, the one with the emotionless demeanor, was Verity.

  But what was the deal between Lady Irene and Verity? Did they know each other well? Hm. Maybe Lady Irene was responsible for any magically gifted children who ended up at orphanages. In that case, it would make sense for her to bring me here personally, rather than some ordinary servant.

  I pushed the thoughts aside as the young woman named Elodie nodded with a gentle smile. The older woman, Grimelda, however, just barked at the children, “Well? Inside with you! Move!”

  After a few of them waved a final, shy goodbye towards us—or more likely, towards Lady Irene—the children slowly began to move towards a large, welcoming-looking building set further back in the meadow.

  I watched them go. A few of the older children, once out of Grimelda’s immediate sight, broke into a run, laughing as they raced towards the orphanage. Grimelda instantly bellowed after them, “At an orderly pace, you little heathens!” Her voice was like gravel. The older children just laughed louder and kept running.

  “That is the boy?” I heard Verity’s voice ask quietly beside me, but somehow, I didn’t feel like she was addressing me directly. My gaze remained fixed on the children, who were now disappearing inside the main building, their happy shouts and laughter echoing faintly.

  Maybe… maybe I actually have a chance at a peaceful childhood here… or something resembling one.

  My consciousness began to drift, the scene before me blurring… replaced by the sound of glass shattering… the deafening roar in my ears… the panic in my mother's voice… the cold and painful ground…

  My chest constricted, a familiar ache tightening around my heart. For what felt like an eternity, I was lost in that waking nightmare, reliving the trauma, the helplessness…

  Until I felt the soft, rhythmic vibrations against my chest… Pip’s purring. The anchor in my grief… she always knew when I was hurting… I hugged Pip even tighter, burying my face in her soft fur. I will do anything, anything in this world, not to lose her again.

  But the thought of my parents, the memory of their loss, still ached with a bitter, endless pain, even after all these years, even across worlds. A single, hot tear escaped and traced a path down my cheek.

  A gentle hand on my shoulder brought me sharply back from my painful memories.

  “Grim? Is everything alright?” I heard Lady Irene say, her voice soft with concern. She had leaned down, her face now directly beside mine.

  Startled, I blinked up at her, then quickly looked at Elodie, who had a worried expression on her kind face, and finally at Verity, who was regarding me with a slight frown, though I thought I saw a flicker of something like sympathy in her usually neutral brown eyes. I cleared my throat, feeling my cheeks flush, and carefully set Pip down on the ground beside me.

  “I humbly ask for your forgiveness,” I said, my voice a little hoarse, and bowed my head respectfully to all three women. “My name is Grim, and this is my cat, Pip.”

  To everyone’s amusement—and my own slight relief—Pip chose that exact moment to confirm my statement with a loud, clear meow as I said her name. It seemed to lighten the somewhat tense atmosphere a little.

  I quickly wiped the stray tear from my cheek with the back of my hand and then looked expectantly at the group, waiting.

  Finally, Verity spoke, her voice calm and measured. “We were informed by Lady Irene that you will be residing with us from now on, Grim. We have also been… appraised of your special… circumstances.” She said the last word cryptically, her gaze flicking pointedly towards Pip, who was now winding herself around my ankles.

  I sighed internally. Here we go.

  I raised a questioning eyebrow, but before Verity could say anything further, I crossed my arms and stated firmly, “Whatever it costs to have Pip stay with me, I will pay it. Every last copper, silver, gold, or anti-matter piece.”

  Now they all stared at me as if I’d grown a second head. Even Pip looked up at me, tilting her head in confusion. Elodie whispered, looking utterly bewildered, “Anti-matter…?” Lady Irene and Verity just looked at me, clearly expecting an explanation for my bizarre outburst.

  I sighed again, feeling like an idiot. “I didn't mean to appear disrespectful,” I explained, trying to sound reasonable. “I just wanted to make it perfectly clear that I don’t expect Pip and me to find asylum here for free. I fully intend to work for our keep. For three, if necessary.”

  As if to punctuate my solemn vow, Pip let out another affirmative meow. Verity still looked somewhat confused by my choice of currency, but she cleared her throat before speaking.

  “I… see. I will have a few more words with Lady Irene, and then we will all see each other later for the communal supper. Elodie will show you around the orphanage in the meantime, and then to your room.” She finished by gesturing with an open hand towards Elodie.

  I nodded in understanding. Turning back to Lady Irene one last time, I bowed respectfully. “Lady Irene. Thank you for everything. I am truly in your debt…”

  But she just waved my thanks away with a kind smile. “Oh, nonsense, Grim. Now, go on. You must be curious about your new home.” She said it with genuine warmth.

  I offered her a grateful smile in return, then turned back. Elodie was already waiting with an inviting gesture. As I stepped beside her, she placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and began to guide me towards the main building of the orphanage.

  Just before we started walking properly, however, I heard Verity’s voice call out softly from behind me, “Grim?”

  I turned back, confused. She was smiling at me now, a surprisingly warm and genuine smile that transformed her usually stern face.

  “Welcome to Little Garden Orphanage.”