Chapter 8 Who Are You?

The three little girls huddled together, their small bodies trembling, their wide, brown eyes fixed on us with a mixture of terror and curiosity. The boy stood protectively in front of them, his small frame a defiant shield against the world. He tried to soothe them with hushed words, his voice a low, calming murmur in the oppressive silence of the alley.

I moved past him, my heart aching at the sight of them. I knelt on the grimy cobblestones, bringing myself to their level. "What are your names?" I asked, my voice as gentle as I could make it.

They just shook their heads, pressing closer together.

"They don't have names," the boy said from behind me. "Like me."

"No names?" The words caught in my throat. "How long have you been living like this?"

"I don't know. I found them here, on the street. So I brought them to my spot."

I reached out and placed a hand on his head, his dark hair surprisingly soft beneath my fingers. "You are a kind and amazing boy," I said, my voice thick with an emotion I couldn't name.

He blushed, a faint pink spreading across his dirt-streaked cheeks. I stood, turning to face Adel and Lady Octavi, the idyllic image of the sun-drenched town square now a distant, mocking memory.

"Is this common?" I asked, my voice sharp and fragile. "Children abandoned on the street?"

They exchanged an uneasy look. "No, my lady," Lady Octavi answered, her voice hesitant. "It is incredibly rare. Almost impossible."

"Impossible? You said it yourself, back in the square. You said that 'kind of street is gone.' Why would you say that if it wasn't true?"

"Because it is supposed to be the truth, my lady," she insisted. "His Grace, your father, has addressed this problem."

"Addressed it? How?"

"He established a network of orphanages and a foster care system throughout the duchy," she explained. "He built training centres for prospective foster parents to ensure that every child would have a safe and loving home."

Her words, meant to be reassuring, only fanned the flames of my growing anger. "If my father has done all of that, then WHY ARE THERE FOUR ABANDONED CHILDREN STANDING IN FRONT OF ME RIGHT NOW?"

"I... I do not know, my lady."

"And what if there are more?" I pressed, struggling to keep my voice even. "What if this is just the tip of a very dark and ugly iceberg?"

"I think that's impossible, my lady," she said, though her voice lacked conviction.

"But it's possible, isn't it?" I countered. "I will speak with my father about this later. But right now, what are we to do with them?"

"I believe the best course of action would be to take them to the nearest orphanage," Lady Octavi suggested.

I considered it for a moment, the image of their small, frightened faces burning in my mind. "NO! I'm taking them home."

Their faces were a mask of shock. "My lady," Adel said, her voice a low warning. "Is that not... a bit selfish?"

"Selfish?" I rounded on her, my voice rising. "What do you mean, selfish?"

"I understand your concern, my lady. But to simply take them for yourself... it is not a solution. What if there were eight children? Or twenty? Would you take them all?"

"Then what do you suggest, Adel? That we just leave them here?"

"As Lady Octavi said, we should take them to the orphanage."

"The orphanage?" I scoffed, the word tasting like ash in my mouth. "The same system that has so clearly failed these four? I look at them, and I ask myself. Why did my father's grand plan fail? Why are they still here?"

"His Grace's plan has not failed, my lady," Lady Octavi insisted.

"Then I will ask you again," I said, my voice dangerously low, a cold, unfamiliar anger coiling in my gut. "Why are there four starving children in front of me?"

Lady Octavi's face paled. "I... I am afraid I do not know, my lady."

"Even a member of the great Claudi family, the sworn sword of Aurelius, cannot answer a simple question?" The words were not my own. They came from a dark, cold place inside me, a place I didn't recognise.

"My lady," Adel said, her voice sharp. "That is an inappropriate way to address Lady Octavi."

For some reason, I turned on her, my body moving with a will of its own. "And how should I address a subject who has sworn her allegiance to my house, Adel?"

Lady Octavi stepped between us, her hand on my arm. "My lady, please..."

"Forgive me, my lady," Adel said, her voice as cold as ice, "but Lady Octavi has sworn her allegiance to His Grace, not to you. She is here on his orders to care for you. She is not yet your subject."

The words were a spark to a powder keg. I felt something snap inside me. I grabbed Lady Octavi's hand and threw it off me with a strength I didn't know I possessed. I moved closer to Adel, my face inches from hers, the world narrowing to the space between our eyes.

And then... I blinked.

The world tilted, the alleyway dissolving into a blur of colour and light. When my vision cleared, Lady Octavi was kneeling on the ground, leaning on her sword, her clothes in disarray, a bruise already forming on her cheek. I turned and saw Adel huddled in the corner, her arms wrapped protectively around the four children, her own face bruised and her dress torn.

"What... what just happened?" I whispered, my voice a stranger's.

And then I felt it, a sensation of being pulled, of being sucked out of the world. A black, suffocating force filled my vision, and I heard Lady Octavi's voice, distant and fading, calling my name.
And then, another voice, a voice that was not a voice, a thought that was not a thought, echoing in the endless, silent darkness.

"Who…are…you?"

I opened my eyes to a splitting headache. I was in my own bed, the moonlight streaming through the window. It was night. I sat up, my head pounding, and saw Adel sitting in a chair across the room. Our eyes met. She looked startled, and then she was gone, rushing from the room without a word.

Her face had been fine. I tried to remember. In the alley, she and Octavi had been bruised. And then... nothing. A blank space in my memory. And the voice... what was that voice?

A few moments later, the door burst open, and my parents, Sofia, and Adel rushed in. My mother was the first to reach me, pulling me into a tight, desperate hug.

"My Aurelia! You're finally awake!"

I could feel the wetness of her tears against my cheek. "I'm alright, Mother."

"Are you sure, darling?"

"Yes... but what happened? What's going on?"

"You were unconscious, Aurelia," my father said, his voice grave.

"Unconscious?"

"Yes," my mother confirmed. "Can you remember what happened before?"

"I was in the alley... with the four children. Ah! The children! Are they alright?"

"They are safe," my mother reassured me. "They are in the servants' quarters."

"That's a relief."

"Can you continue your story?" my father prompted.

"I... I was arguing with Adel and Lady Octavi. I wanted to bring the children home, but they disagreed. And then... I blinked. And Lady Octavi was on the ground, and Adel was with the children, and they were both... hurt. And then... nothing. Just darkness."

"You don't remember what happened in between?" my mother asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"No, nothing at all."

"Adel and Lady Octavi told us... you lost control," my father said, his words heavy. "They said you were like your mother."

"Like Mother?"

"Yes, your mother is... formidable... when she loses her—"

My mother shot him a look, and he fell silent. "In other words," he said, clearing his throat, "you don't remember how Lady Octavi came to be on the ground?"

"No. What did I do?"

"You lost your composure, Aurelia," my mother said, her voice soft but firm. "And you hurt them."

"How?"

They exchanged another look, the wall of secrecy rising between us again. "We will tell you when the time is right," my mother said. "For now, you need to rest. Sofia is here to examine you."

Sofia came forward and performed her usual checks, her touch cool and professional. "My lady," she said when she was finished, "did you experience anything while you were unconscious? Any memories, any feelings?"

"No, nothing... wait."

"Yes?"

"There was something... a voice in my head."

"Was it Lady Octavi's voice?"

"No, it was a voice I didn't recognise."

I saw the shock on their faces.

"What did it say?" Sofia asked, her voice tense.

"It just asked me, 'Who…are…you?'"

The simple question landed in the silent room. I saw my mother take a half-step back, her hand tightening on my father's arm. But Sofia’s expression shifted from alarm to intense concentration.

"Who are you?" she repeated, more to herself than to me. She looked at my parents, a flicker of something new in her eyes. Not fear. But a dawning, cautious excitement. "Your Grace, Madam... this may not be what we feared."

"What are you saying, Sofia?" my father asked, his voice strained.

"The mind is a remarkable thing," Sofia began, her voice gaining confidence. "When it suffers a trauma as profound as complete memory loss, it fights to heal itself. This voice... this question... it might not be an external influence. It could be a sign of something extraordinary."

She turned back to me, her eyes bright with intellectual curiosity. "My lady, it is possible that the voice you heard was your own mind. The lost parts of you, the memories that are buried, are trying to reconnect. The question 'Who are you?' could be the first sign that your brain is attempting to regain what was lost. It is a sign of a struggle, yes, but it may be a struggle towards healing."

The room was silent as we all processed her words. The idea that the voice was not a hostile entity but a part of myself trying to break through was both terrifying and strangely hopeful.

"So... you believe she might recover?" my mother asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"It is a possibility," Sofia said, her tone careful. "A very faint one, but a possibility nonetheless. This is uncharted territory. I will need to consult my texts." She bowed. "May I be excused?"

"Of course," my father said, his gaze distant.

After Sofia left, my parents said their goodnights, their expressions a confusing mix of hope and a fear I couldn't quite decipher. When they closed the door, I was left alone in the silence, Sofia's words echoing in my mind. A struggle towards healing. Was that what this was? Was there another Aurelia trapped inside me, asking to be remembered? The thought was a dizzying, terrifying comfort.