Inheritance

Part 2. Chapter 42: Id Part 1

Sometimes, she murmured pathetically as she walked down the halls, "I love you."

Just so she could hear her words echo.

As time went on, the priestesses she lived among tried to be kind to her.

They would make harmless, idle conversation with her and try to make her laugh, but Pollyanna found that she had a hard time telling when they were joking and when they were making fun of her.

Paranoia, distrust, and unhappiness held her captive.

Screams haunted her when she tried to sleep; red constantly invaded her vision when anyone brought up her old town. No matter how much she ate, her stomach always felt empty.

It's because I no longer have a pulse.

Eventually, news arrived that the fairies had succeeded in taking over Maribel. Pollyanna didn't care.

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Thirty-four years eventually passed her by.

Her life had been painted gray and passionless. It was ruled by routines and schedules, and Pollyanna was glad of it. If she were given too much choice in her life, it led to too many memories of glorious old dreams that were too painful to remember.

Sometimes, she could hardly believe she ever had the dream of becoming a knight. It felt like a distant, warm and golden desire—a window into a future that had long passed her by.

And so she tended to the convent garden, she taught young girls Scripture, she prayed three times a day, she cleaned and cooked, and she would occasionally see the Holy Mothers off when they went to feed the homeless and do other charity work.

She could be never at peace with herself, but she felt like she could at least live with herself.

She sometimes wished she could join the Holy Mothers in their charity work, but she could never stray very far from the convent. She was too afraid to go very far.

Life continued in this comfortable and gray blur until one day...

Deep into the night, while a whirlwind of memories were keeping her up, the smell of smoke trickled into Pollyanna's nostrils.

She rolled over, thinking the smell was in her imagination.

She still smelled it when she opened her eyes and looked at the door. Perhaps I should go for a walk.

The door was violently thrown open. One of the Holy Mothers said in a panicked voice, "Pollyanna! The king has set our convent ablaze! We must go!"

The Holy Mother wasted not a second longer; she disappeared outside the door.

Pollyanna climbed to her feet—too hurried to notice how heavy her muscles and eyelids felt from lack of sleep.

There was no time to throw any clothes on over her nightgown; she could hear crackling fire spreading rapidly nearby. She opened her door and gasped when she saw black fire spreading down the hall to her left. She dashed down a short flight of wooden stairs in front of her and came to a sharp halt when a barrier of black flames blocked her path at the bottom.

Black fire was consuming everything on the bottom floor.

Screams filled her ears along with the sound of debris crashing down from the ceiling.

Intense smoke filled her lungs as she looked for a clear path to escape the flames.

She looked to her right; one of the Holy Mothers was on fire in her private study.

Pollyanna gulped.

I have a chance to be brave. A chance to be a hero like I always wanted...

Determinedly, she leapt through the fire in front of her and patted the flames that clung to her out.

After that, her legs moved her toward the shrieking Holy Mother. She weaved in-between walls of black fire toward her.

Pollyanna's legs were shaking. Her throat felt like it was on fire. She glistened with sweat.

Almost there... She thought to herself as she closed the gap between herself and the entrance to the study.

A wall of fire roared into existence—blocking her path.

No! Pollyanna thought to herself as she fought for breath. No...

Her heart dropped. She stared forward listlessly.

She felt lightheaded.

She collapsed.