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"Always pity the thinkers,for they are cursed with their own imagination

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"Always pity the thinkers,
for they are cursed with their own imagination."
Atticus









"Here we are Miss, have a nice dinner." That is all the woman says before leaving me in front of tall white doors.

I take a look at my surroundings and see two guards passing in a nearby hallway. Their steps are synchronized and their piercing looks roam the place, like lions searching for their next prey. Gulping, I turn back around and lift a shaking hand to push open the door. On the other side, a large table surrounded by at least 30 people takes place. My heart is, once again, racing and my head starts to spin causing me to stumble. There, in the room I am supposed to enter is a ton of people I don't know. Not to mention those are probably part of the ones that kidnapped me.

Among the sea of faces, I see the familiar features of the boy I met earlier in the hallway. Like everyone, he hasn't noticed me yet and looks like he's in an elaborate conversation with the man at the end of the table. All of them are wearing those strange clothes I keep seeing and which I am wearing at this instant.

Just play along and stay calm, Alora. Help is coming.

I open the door more, allowing me to step inside the room. As I do, all eyes are on me making me turn as scarlet as a red rose.

"Alora! We were waiting for you, come sit." The man talking with the boy exclaims. As he speaks, he points to the chair on his right.

I step forward and walk as calmly as I can to the seat. The extravagant gown I am wearing makes it difficult as I'm not used to wearing something like this. As I make myself as comfortable as I can on the chair, everyone goes back to their discussions around the table.

"The domestic told us you were not feeling good this morning, little star. How are you now?" The woman to my right talks to me as if she knew me. Admiring her dark hair and her small nose, I get this weird feeling of looking directly at a mirror. She looks just like me if you don't count her eyes. This odd place gives me goosebumps.

"I am a lot better now," I respond, lying just as I did when I woke up to that blonde girl.

She doesn't seem to be convinced by my answer which makes my hands sweaty for an instant. What if I say something they don't like? What are they going to do to me?

"Alora is fine, darling, she probably stood up too fast or something like that," the man to my left says.

My head starts spinning in front of all those strangers who are talking as if nothing happened. As if I didn't wake up in a place I don't know. As if I didn't get knocked out by people I don't know. Only I can end up in a situation like this.

"Now, Alora, let me present you Mr. Delmont, my new sorcerer!" The bearded man exclaims with an excited smile on his face. Beside him, the boy in question is looking at me with a subtle smirk on his face. I can tell, from his expression that he hasn't forgotten our encounter.

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓻Donde viven las historias. Descúbrelo ahora