Adrienne somehow found herself back at the orphanage where she grew, standing in the dimly lit hallway that led to the dormitory. The air was thick with the scent of old wood and damp stone, a familiar yet oppressive aroma that clung to her senses.
Through the walls, she could hear the voices of the children and caretakers of the orphanage, their words sharp and biting.
"She's just a freeloader."
Adrienne recoiled, her stomach churning. The word echoed around her, growing louder and louder until it felt like it was coming from all directions. She clapped her hands over her ears, but it didn't help. The voices were inside her head, taunting her, laughing at her.
"She's useless."
"A burden."
She wanted to scream, to tell them she wasn't weak, that she could be more—but no sound came out. Her throat felt tight, as though an invisible hand were squeezing it, silencing her. She tried to move, to run, but her legs were leaden, rooted to the spot.
The hallway stretched endlessly before her, the door to the dormitory just out of reach. The voices grew louder, more insistent, until they were a racket of ridicule and disdain.
Then, the scene shifted.
She was no longer in the hallway but standing in small room within the dormitory, the cracked ceiling above her. A middle-aged, matronly woman bathed in a soft, golden light stood at the far end of the room, her back turned to Adrienne.
"Sister Agnes," she whispered, the words barely audible.
The woman, Agnes hummed softly as she folded laundry into a basket. Adrienne reached out, her small hand trembling, desperate to touch the familiar figure.
But she didn't turn. She kept folding, her movements slow and deliberate, as though Adrienne weren't there at all.
"Sister Agnes?" Adrienne's voice was only slightly louder, but it echoed unnaturally in the room. As if finally registering her presence, Agnes turned slowly, her face kind and gentle, just as Adrienne remembered.
But as their eyes met, something shifted. The warmth in Agnes's expression faded, replaced by something colder, more distant. Her lips moved, but the words that came out were not her own.
"You couldn't save me," Agnes said, her voice hollow and echoing. "You were too weak."
Adrienne's breath hitched, her chest tightening with guilt and despair. "I'm sorry," she choked out, tears streaming down her face. "I tried… I wanted to…"
But Agnes was already fading, her form dissolving into the light. Adrienne reached out, desperate to hold on, but her fingers grasped only empty air.
"No, no, no," she sobbed, reaching out to shake Agnes's shoulder. "Come back! Please, come back!"
The sound seemed to ripple through the air, distorting everything around her. The room around her began to crumble, the walls cracking and collapsing as though the very foundation of the world was giving way.
The ground beneath her began to tremble, cracks spreading like spiderwebs. Adrienne tried to stand, but her legs gave out, and she fell to her knees again. She looked down at her hands and gasped.
They were glowing in purple.
A faint, pulsating purple light emanated from her skin, growing brighter with every passing second. She could feel the energy building inside her, a pressure in her chest that threatened to explode. Panic surged through her as she realized what was happening.
"No, no, not again!" she pleaded, clutching at her chest as though she could physically hold the energy back. But it was no use. Her skin began to crack, and her bones felt like they were vibrating apart. The purple light grew brighter, the pressure unbearable, until—
The world exploded.
Adrienne was thrown backward, the force of the blast ripping through her. She landed hard, the impact knocking the air from her lungs. When she opened her eyes, she was laying in the ruins of the orphanage, the air thick with dust and debris.
"Sister Agnes!" she cried, her voice breaking. "Where are you?"
The silence that followed was deafening. Then, faintly, she heard it—a series of soft, pained moans. Adrienne's breath hitched as she followed the sound, her bare feet crunching over broken glass and debris. She turned a corner and froze.
There, lying amidst the rubble, was the bodies of the other children and caretakers. She stumbled backward, her heart pounding in her chest.
Shadowy figures began to emerge from the lifeless bodues, their faces twisted with anger and fear. They surrounded her, their eyes accusing, their voices a bedlam of hatred.
"You did this."
"You destroyed everything."
"You're the reason that she died."
"You're a monster."
"No!" Adrienne screamed, her voice raw. "It wasn't me! It wasn't me!"
But the voices didn't stop. They grew louder, more vicious, until they were a deafening roar.
Adrienne tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go. The figures closed in, their hands reaching for her, their fingers clawing at her skin. She screamed, but no sound came out.
Then, from the darkness, a single figure emerged. His form was tall and imposing, his silhouette shifting unnaturally as if reality itself struggled to contain him. A mask of swirling purple energy obscured his face, tendrils of luminous mist writhing and dissipating into the air like smoke caught in a storm.
With every step he took, the world around him seemed to shudder—shadows deepened, the air thickened with an oppressive weight, and the very ground pulsed beneath him as though recoiling from his presence.
Adrienne's breath hitched. It wasn't just his appearance—it was the way he moved. He didn't walk so much as glide, his limbs bending at unnatural angles, his steps too smooth, too precise. Each motion was deliberate, effortless, yet unsettlingly inhuman.
The closer he got, the stronger the distortion in the air, the way light itself seemed to twist and bend around him, as though his very being was an intrusion upon reality.
Then, he spoke.
"You think you can escape what you are?" His voice wasn't just deep, it was layered, like multiple voices speaking at once, reverberating in the space around her, burrowing into her skull. It was calm, almost amused, but beneath it lay something else, something cold, something ancient.
"You're nothing but a dud. A failure."
Adrienne flinched as if struck. Her fingers curled into fists, nails digging into her palms. "I'm not…" She swallowed hard, her throat tight. "I'm not a failure."
The figure chuckled, a sound so devoid of warmth that it sent a chill through her bones. "Then prove it," he whispered, his voice sliding through the air like a blade against stone. "Show me your power."
A crackle of violet energy coiled around his fingertips before erupting into a glowing mass in his palm. The air hummed with its intensity, distorting the space between them. He raised his hand.
Adrienne didn't think, she acted. With a cry, she launched herself at him, fists clenched, aiming for his masked face.
But he was faster.
With a flicker of motion, he was gone from her path, his body twisting aside at an angle that shouldn't have been possible. Adrienne's strike hit empty air, and she barely had time to register his absence before a sharp, mocking laugh echoed behind her.
"Pathetic," he sneered.
She spun around, heart hammering, and tried again. This time, she swung at his torso, throwing every ounce of strength she had into the punch. But the moment her fist neared his chest, the space around him rippled and her arm passed right through him, like plunging into liquid shadow. Before she could react, a force struck her in the ribs, sending her staggering backward.
"Is this all you have?" he mused, watching her with an air of disappointment. "No wonder Agnes died."
A mixture of rage and fear surged in her. She wasn't weak. She wouldn't let him treat her like this. Gritting her teeth, she shoved both hands forward, willing her energy to come.
Nothing.
Her chest tightened. Again, she reached inside, searching for the power that should be there. Her fingers trembled as she concentrated harder, every fiber of her being screaming for something, anything to respond.
Still, nothing.
Her breathing turned ragged. Her hands curled, flexed, curled again. It had to be there. It had to.
She tried again.
Nothing.
Her heart pounded against her ribs. She tried to steady herself, to push past the rising panic, but it was like trying to grip sand slipping through her fingers. Her skin prickled with cold as the weight of her failure settled over her.
The figure sighed, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "How many times must I tell you?" he murmured, his voice laced with cruel amusement. "You have no power. You never did."
Then, before she could react, he lifted his hand. The crackling surge of purple energy in his palm condensed into a spiraling mass, and in an instant, it exploded forward, slamming into her with crushing force.
The impact sent her flying.
The world became a blur of pain and motion before she hit the ground, hard. Air rushed from her lungs in a strangled gasp. Agony lanced through her spine, her limbs trembling, unresponsive. But nothing—nothing hurt more than the hollow void inside her, the one where her power should have been.
Above her, the figure stood, his form shadowed against the eerie purple glow that surrounded him.
And then, as the energy around his face flickered and faded, she saw him.
Her own face stared back at her.
But where her eyes held desperation, the other pair held only disdain.
"You'll always be weak," her doppelgänger whispered, lips curling into a smirk. "You'll always be alone."
* * *
Adrienne's eyes snapped open, a scream tearing itself from her throat before she could stop it. The sound was ragged, raw, as if it had been ripped from somewhere deep inside her. Her hands gripped the edges of her mat, fingers digging into the frayed fabric as though it might anchor her to reality. Her head pulsed with a dull, insistent ache, prolonging her pain.
For a moment, she couldn't breathe, the scream still echoing in her ears, her throat burning as if she'd swallowed fire. She forced her mouth shut, cutting off the sound, but her chest heaved, her lungs desperate for air. Sweat clung to her skin, cold and slick, making her shiver despite the warmth of the room. It felt like she'd been running—not through the streets, but through something darker, something that had chased her even in sleep.
Her eyes darted around, half-expecting to see the accusing faces of the caretakers and orphans. But there was no one. Just the empty alley, the faint glow of a streetlamp, and the distant sound of the city waking up.
Adrienne hugged her knees to her chest, her breath slowly steadying.
Same nightmare again huh...
She ran a trembling hand through her short, tangled red hair, feeling the damp strands stick to her forehead. Sweat clung to her pale skin, accentuating the sharp angles of her face—cheekbones too defined, her frame too thin.
As she began to regain a sense of stability, she first checked her sleeping mat to make sure she hadn't made a "mess" down there from her terror, as it had been happening for some time.
She exhaled sharply, relieved to find no trace of dampness on the mat. The stench would have clinged to her, and in the streets, smelling like piss was the easiest way to draw the wrong kind of attention.
People already looked down on strays like her and smelling foul would only make it worse. Shopkeepers would shoo her away faster, pedestrians would wrinkle their noses and give her an even wider berth, and the already slim chances of scoring a meal would shrink to nothing.
The alley was quiet, save for the distant hum of traffic. She sat there for a moment, listening to the city breathe, grounding herself in reality. The chill of the pavement seeped through her mat, anchoring her further.
She wiped her damp forehead with the back of her hand, her fingers trembling slightly. The nightmare was getting worse. More vivid. More real. She could still hear the echoes of those voices, still feel the weight of their accusations pressing against her chest.
With a sigh, she reached into her small bag, a worn thing barely held together with stitches and pulled out a dented water bottle. She took a sip, swishing the lukewarm liquid around her mouth before swallowing. It did little to wash away the dryness in her throat, but it was better than nothing.
A deep rumble from her stomach reminded her that she hadn't eaten since yesterday. She grimaced. Not that hunger was anything new.
She glanced up at the sky with her red eyes, hollow and exhausted, dark circles bruising the skin beneath them. The sun had yet to rise fully, but she could tell it was close.
Pushing herself up, she rolled her mat and tucked it beneath her arm. Her legs were still shaky, her body sluggish, but she ignored it. She needed to get a move on now in order to secure a good spot in the marketplace.