Volume 1: [The Girl in the Yellow Raincoat]
Chapter 1: The Nest
Act 1: The Raincoat Girl
The sky seems endless.
Soft shades of blue stretch all the way to the horizon, where the clouds glow pink, orange and white in the fading sunlight. Far below, the ocean holds those same colors on its restless surface. Every wave catches a piece of the sky, then breaks it apart.
High above the water, an old yellow hot-air balloon drifts silently through the clouds.
Its fabric is faded and covered in uneven patches. Several of its ropes have been knotted back together more than once, and the wicker basket creaks every time the wind leans against it. It looks like a balloon that should have fallen apart years ago.
Yet somehow, it keeps flying.
Inside the basket, curled up beside an enormous backpack, a young girl is asleep.
A yellow raincoat covers most of her small body. Its hood has slipped down over her face, hiding everything except a single brown braid. A bright red bow is tied at the end of it, standing out against her dark hair. Below the coat, she wears dark blue pants and yellow boots, both worn from travel.
She holds an old notebook tightly against her chest. Its cover is scratched, bent and stained, but the faded words on it can still be read:
Five's Diary
The sleeping girl's name is Five.
She breathes softly, unaware of the vast ocean beneath her, or of the enormous structure waiting beyond the horizon.
For a while, the balloon floats in peace.
Then the wind changes.
At first, it's only a quiet breeze, barely strong enough to stir Five's braid. A few seconds later, the fabric above her snaps like a whip. The ropes pull tight, and the basket swings hard to one side.
Five stays asleep.
The wind grows stronger. All at once, the old balloon is dragged northwest, faster and faster, as if something unseen has taken hold of it.
The basket tilts sharply. Five's backpack slides across the wicker floor, its top flap falls open, and the things inside shift around. A spare shoe tumbles out, bounces once off the edge of the basket, and drops right onto Five's forehead.
Five's body twitches. She lets out a faint, sleepy breath, but instead of waking up, she sinks even deeper. The shoe has knocked her out cold.
The wind carries the balloon on.
Through the clouds, a dark shape appears.
A mansion stands at the edge of a massive cliff above the ocean. Its walls are narrow and impossibly tall, rising into the sky like the remains of some forgotten fortress. Sharp rooftops pierce the clouds, and dark windows stare out over the sea.
The building looks abandoned.
But it doesn't feel empty.
The balloon rushes toward it. The wind screams through the ropes, and the basket swings wildly.
Five's diary slips out of her arms.
Then—
CRASH!
The balloon tears through part of the mansion's roof. Wood shatters. Dust explodes into the air. The wicker basket breaks apart as it slams into the attic, and Five is thrown forward.
Her yellow raincoat snags on a broken beam and is ripped right off her body. It flutters away through the darkness and disappears behind a mountain of forgotten furniture in a far corner of the attic.
Five hits the wooden floor and rolls through splinters and dust. Her backpack lands several feet away with a heavy thud.
Then everything is still.
Darkness swallows the attic.
(Scene change)
Five is running.
She doesn't know where she's going. She only knows that she can't stop.
An endless forest surrounds her. The trees rise high above her head, and their twisted branches block out what little moonlight is left. Roots claw at her feet as she stumbles through the mud.
Something is following her.
It has no face. No voice. No shape she can understand. It moves between the trees like a living shadow, always close enough for her to feel it, but never close enough for her to see it clearly.
Five's lungs burn. Her legs tremble. Still, she runs.
Ahead of her, through the fog, she sees a small wooden cabin. She rushes to it, throws the door open and scrambles inside, then slams it shut behind her and presses her back against it.
For one brief moment, there is silence.
Five covers her mouth, trying to quiet her breathing.
Then the darkness starts leaking in through the cracks in the walls. It slips under the door. It crawls across the ceiling. It stretches toward her from every corner.
Five backs away until she hits the far wall.
Five: No…
The shadow closes in around her. Five falls to her knees and covers her face.
A thin line of blood runs down from her left eye.
And then—
She wakes up.
A weak whimper comes from somewhere close by.
Five opens her eyes and tries to sit up, but a sharp pain tears through her whole body. She loses her balance and falls onto her side.
Something small squirms beneath her.
Five freezes.
She pushes herself up as fast as she can. Lying on the floor beside her is a tiny creature in a large pointed hat that covers most of its face. Its little body trembles with pain.
A gnome.
Five: Oh! I'm sorry! I didn't see you!
She reaches toward him, then stops before she touches him.
Five: I didn't mean to hurt you. I swear.
Six more figures step out of the darkness.
Five pulls her hand back.
The gnomes move quickly. They surround their hurt companion, and without a sound, they carefully lift him off the floor.
Five: Wait. I can help.
One of the gnomes raises a hand toward her, telling her to stay where she is.
Gnome 1: ...✋
The others carry the injured gnome away into the shadows.
Five: I just want to apologize…
The gnomes disappear into the darkness without looking back.
Five: And help…
Her voice fades into the enormous attic. No one answers. There's only the groaning of old wood and the distant sound of the wind pressing against the mansion.
Five puts her hands on the floor and tries to stand. The moment her legs take her weight, they give out.
Five: Ah!
Pain surges through her knees, her back and her ribs. She lowers her head and breathes through clenched teeth.
Something warm trickles down the side of her face. Five touches her forehead, and when she pulls her fingers away, they're stained with blood.
Five: Great…
She looks around until she spots a long piece of broken wood under an overturned chair. She crawls to it, pulls it free and uses it as a makeshift cane. Her arms shake as she pushes herself upright.
Every step hurts. Still, she forces herself across the attic toward her backpack.
She can't stop thinking about the injured gnome. She didn't mean to fall on him. She didn't even know he was there. But that doesn't stop the guilt from settling heavily in her chest.
When she finally reaches her backpack, something glimmers in the dust beside it: a broken piece of mirror.
Five picks it up and studies her reflection.
Her braid has come undone, and her brown hair hangs across her face in dusty strands, with the red bow dangling loose from a few of them. Blood stains her forehead. Her white blouse is wrinkled and dirty, and the pink flower embroidered on its front is nearly hidden under the grime.
Without her yellow raincoat, she feels strangely exposed.
Five stares at herself for a few seconds. Then she sighs.
Five: I look terrible…
Her voice sounds small in the empty attic.
She sits down beside her backpack and digs through it until she finds a hairbrush. Slowly, she starts working it through the knots. Every stroke hurts her shoulder, but she keeps going. She brushes out the dust. She untangles the strands. Then she gathers her hair, carefully braids it again over her left shoulder, and ties the red bow around the end.
Five looks into the broken mirror again.
She's still bruised, bloody and exhausted.
But at least she looks like herself.
She straightens her blouse as much as she can, puts the brush away and pulls out a flashlight. The beam flickers to life. Dust floats through the light like pale insects.
That's when she notices how empty her arms feel.
Her diary.
She was holding it when she fell asleep in the balloon. It isn't in her hands now, and it isn't in her backpack either.
Five sweeps the flashlight across the floor. The beam slides over splintered wood and torn balloon fabric, then stops on something small near the wreck of the basket.
A scratched cover. Faded letters.
Five grabs her cane and limps over. The diary is caught under a broken piece of the basket. She kneels and carefully tugs it free.
It falls apart in her hands.
The cover is split down the middle, right through the faded words. Most of the pages are torn out and crushed flat, and the few that are left are too smeared to read.
Five: No… Not this too…
Everything she has written since the day she left is gone.
Her eyes sting. For a long moment, she holds what's left of it against her chest, the same way she held it in the balloon.
But there's nothing left to save.
Gently, Five sets the pieces down on the floor. She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand and pushes herself up on her cane. She can't stay here. She has to keep going.
And maybe, just maybe, her raincoat is still out there somewhere.
Five searches the attic for her raincoat. She looks behind broken shelves, under torn sheets and inside what's left of the balloon's basket. She limps between old furniture and stacks of forgotten boxes, but the yellow coat is nowhere to be found.
Eventually, the pain is too much. Five goes back to her backpack and sits on the floor, holding the flashlight against her chest.
Five: I'll find it later.
Then she hears footsteps.
Small ones.
Five raises her head. Seven shadows are coming out of the far side of the attic.
The gnomes are back.
The seventh walks behind the others. A strip of cloth is wrapped around his body like a bandage. He moves slowly, but he's on his feet.
Five's eyes widen.
Five: You're all right!
She tries to get up too fast. Pain shoots through her legs, and she collapses again.
Five: Ah—!
The gnomes hurry to her, even the injured one. Some take hold of her arms while the others push against her back, helping her sit up.
Gnomes: ...🤲
Five looks around at their small, worried faces, half hidden under their hats.
Five: Thank you…
She turns to the injured gnome.
Five: I'm really glad you're okay.
The gnome stays silent. Then he raises one hand and gives her a small thumbs-up.
Gnome 7: ...👍
Five's shoulders relax. That simple gesture is enough. He understands. And he forgives her.
For a few moments, no one moves.
Then Five notices that all seven gnomes are staring at her. Not angrily. Not fearfully. They just seem curious.
All at once, she's aware of the dirt on her clothes, the blood on her face and the tears gathering in her eyes. Embarrassed, she lowers her head and lets some of her hair fall over her face.
Five: What?
The gnomes glance at each other. One of them steps closer. Then another. Before Five understands what they're doing, all seven gather around her and wrap their tiny arms around her.
Five stiffens.
She expected fear. Maybe anger. She didn't expect kindness.
Their hands are small and trembling, but the warmth of the hug reaches her right away. Five's breath catches in her throat. Slowly, she lowers her arms around them, and her eyes close.
For the first time since she woke up in the attic, the weight in her chest begins to lift.
Five: Thank you…
The hug lasts only a few seconds. To Five, it feels much longer.
When the gnomes step back, one of them takes her left hand. Another holds her wrist. Three more lift the wooden stick together and carefully place it in her right hand.
Gnome 1: ...🫴
Gnome 2: ...🤝
Five blinks.
Five: What are you doing?
The gnomes start helping her up.
Gnomes: ...🤲⬆️
Five: Wait—slowly…
They lift together, holding her weight until she's standing. Five leans heavily on her cane.
Five: Are you taking me somewhere?
Gnome 1 points deeper into the attic.
Gnome 1: ...👉
The gnomes don't say a word. One of them turns and starts walking toward the darkest part of the attic, and the others gently pull Five along after him.
Five hesitates.
Then she follows.
Her flashlight sweeps across the dusty floor as they walk. Their shadows stretch over old furniture and cracked wooden walls, and every step makes the floorboards creak.
Five has no idea where they're taking her. On any other day, she might be afraid. But with their tiny hands holding her up, she feels something she hasn't felt in a very long time.
She doesn't feel alone.
Then she notices that one of them is missing.
Five looks back. Gnome 7 is gone.
Five: Wait… where's—
The other gnomes stop walking. None of them looks worried. They just turn toward the darkness behind her and wait, as if they knew all along.
A soft scraping sound comes from the darkness. Five turns the flashlight toward it.
Gnome 7 is limping out of a far corner of the attic, dragging something behind him with both hands. Something much bigger than he is. Something yellow.
Her raincoat.
Five's breath catches.
The little gnome pulls it all the way to her feet, one slow step at a time, his bandage slipping a little with every tug. Then he lifts the collar as high as he can reach and holds it out to her.
Gnome 7: ...🫴
Five sinks to her knees in front of him.
Five: You found it…
She fell on him. She hurt him. And he still went looking for the one thing she couldn't find.
Gnome 7 gives her a small nod, as if to say it was never her fault. It was an accident. He knows.
Five takes the raincoat with trembling hands and pulls it on. It's dusty and wrinkled, and it smells like rain, smoke and the slums, but it still fits.
Five: Thank you. Really.
Gnome 7: ...👍
Behind him, the other six give her a thumbs-up too.
Gnomes: ...👍
When Five gets back on her feet, she feels a little less like a girl who fell out of the sky, and a little more like herself.
The gnomes take her hands again and lead her on.
As they go deeper into the attic, the raincoat wrapped tight around her, an old memory rises inside her.
It begins with the smell of incense.
Then comes the cold stone beneath her feet.
And finally, the sound of enormous footsteps chasing her through the dark.
Flashback
Five was eight years old when she escaped from the orphanage.
The building had once been a cathedral. At least, that was what the older children whispered at night. Its walls were made of blackened stone, and its narrow windows let only thin slivers of light into the halls. Religious statues stood in every corner, their faces cracked or missing. The air always smelled of damp stone, old incense, and something metallic that Five tried not to think about.
It was called an orphanage. But it had never felt like a home.
Five ran barefoot down one of its endless corridors. A thin white tunic fluttered around her legs. Her brown hair was braided over her left shoulder, and the little red bow at the end bounced with every desperate step.
Behind her came the thunder of something enormous.
THUMP.
THUMP.
THUMP.
Each footstep shook dust from the ceiling.
Nun: Come back, little one!
The voice was distorted, far too deep to belong to any human woman.
Nun: Your soul belongs to the Almighty!
Five didn't look back. She had seen the nuns before.
They weren't human.
They stood more than sixteen feet tall, their twisted bodies hidden under dark religious robes. Bloodstained bandages covered their faces, and their long arms hung almost to the floor. They moved slowly, but they were so huge that they could still cross the halls with terrifying speed.
Five turned a corner.
At the end of the corridor was a broken stained-glass window. It had once shown a saint, but the saint's head was missing, and only jagged pieces of colored glass were left around the edges. Beyond the window, a steep hill ran down toward the slums.
The other children said that place was cursed. They said thieves, monsters and starving people lived there. They said even the sunlight stayed away.
Five didn't care. Anywhere was better than the orphanage.
A roar shook the hallway behind her.
Five ran for the window. She covered her face with both arms and threw herself through it.
Glass shattered all around her. For one breathless moment, she was flying.
Then she hit the hillside.
She tumbled through bushes and sharp rocks. Branches tore at her tunic. Dirt filled her mouth. She shielded her face as best she could while the world spun around her, until at last she landed on a patch of soft earth at the bottom of the hill.
She lay there, gasping. Her whole body hurt.
But the enormous footsteps had stopped.
Five looked up toward the top of the hill. The nuns stood behind the broken window, watching her.
They didn't follow.
Five didn't know why. She was simply grateful.
When she managed to stand, she saw the slums spread out in front of her. Broken houses leaned against one another. Rusted metal covered the streets. Smoke rose from buildings that had no roofs. There were no guards, no bells and no prayers.
No one came to welcome her. No one came to take her back.
So Five walked.
The days that followed blurred together. She hid in abandoned buildings and searched for any food that hadn't already spoiled. At night, she slept under tables, behind wardrobes or inside broken cabinets. Her white tunic slowly turned gray. Then brown.
She learned which streets to avoid. She learned how to move quietly. She learned that grown-ups rarely noticed a small child unless they wanted something from her.
Weeks passed. Maybe months. Five stopped counting.
One afternoon, while she was digging through a mountain of rusted metal and torn fabric, she spotted a flash of yellow. She pulled an old raincoat out from under the junk. It was dusty and a little torn, but still usable.
In one of its pockets, she found a crumpled note. Five unfolded it carefully.
Whoever finds this yellow raincoat and the rest of the clothes can keep them.
I'm about to die, so I won't need them anymore.
Damn it… They're outside the house.
Five read it twice. She looked around, but there was no sign of whoever had written it. She wondered who they had been.
She wondered what had found them.
Then a cold wind blew through the broken building, and Five put on the raincoat.
It was too big for her at first, but it covered her body and kept out the cold. Nearby, she found matching boots, dark blue pants and a few other pieces of clothing.
For the first time since she escaped from the orphanage, she felt warm.
The yellow raincoat became hers.
Months later, Five found the remains of an old hot-air balloon buried in the ruins. The fabric was torn. The basket was cracked. Most people would have called it useless.
Five saw a way out.
With scraps of cloth, bits of wire, old rope and anything else she could find, she repaired it little by little. She worked alone. Every failed patch taught her something. Every broken rope forced her to find another solution. Day after day, the balloon slowly came back to life.
When it was finally ready, Five packed everything she owned into a backpack. She tied the red bow around the end of her braid, pulled up the hood of her yellow raincoat and climbed into the basket.
She didn't know where the wind would take her. She only knew that she wanted to see what was out there, beyond the slums.
The world was waiting.
And Five had decided to find it.
End of Flashback
Five blinks.
The memory fades, and the dark attic comes back around her. The flashlight is still in her hand. The gnomes are still guiding her forward.
Five lifts her head, and for the first time, she sees what's waiting ahead of them.
A door.
An enormous door, towering over her like the entrance to another world.
The gnomes stop in front of it. Five stares up at it. Then she looks down at her tiny companions, and a nervous feeling twists in her stomach.
Five: What exactly are we supposed to do with that?