The room was heavy with the scent of dried herbs and old wood. Unlike the noisy hallway outside, this place was deathly quiet. As the heavy door clicked shut behind us, I saw her.
The Eldress was sitting in a high-backed wooden chair near a small, flickering fireplace. She looked incredibly old—her skin was like crumpled parchment, and her silver hair was tucked neatly under a dark lace cap. She didn't look up at first; she was focused on the steam rising from a small ceramic cup of tea in her hands.
Manya bowed her head low, her voice trembling slightly. "Eldress, I have brought the girl."
The old woman took a slow, deliberate sip of her tea. Then, she turned her head. Her eyes weren't cloudy like I expected; they were sharp, bright, and incredibly piercing. She looked me up and down, her gaze lingering on my blue jeans and my dirty white sneakers with a look of pure confusion and judgment.
"Approach, child," she croaked. Her voice was thin, but it carried a strength that made me move forward without thinking.
I stepped closer, my heart thumping against my ribs. Up close, her stare felt like a cold blade. She reached out with a bony, shaking hand and grabbed the fabric of my sleeve, rubbing it between her fingers.
"Manya tells me you were found in the gutter, smelling of fever and wearing the skin of a strange beast," the Eldress said, gesturing to my denim trousers. She set her teacup down with a sharp clack. "Tell me, without lies... how many winters have you seen? And from what corner of the world did you crawl out of?"
"I... I am twenty-one years old," I whispered, my voice shaking.
"Twenty-one," she repeated, her eyes narrowing as if she were trying to see through my skin. "You look like a woman, yet you dress like a confused boy. Now, tell me how you arrived here. I want the truth."
I looked at Manya, then back at the Eldress. I wanted to explain, but I felt hesitant. How could I say the truth in front of everyone?
The Eldress seemed to read my mind. She turned her sharp gaze to Manya. "Leave us. I wish to speak with this stranger alone. Go."
Manya hesitated for a second, looking at me with worry, but she knew better than to argue with the Mistress of the house. She bowed again and backed out of the room, leaving me alone with the woman who held my fate in her hands.
Once the door was shut, the silence grew thick. I took a deep breath.
"I don't know how to explain it... I was in a museum in Russia. It was the future. There was a light, and then I was just... here. In the alley. I think I fell through time."
I tried to tell her about the Philippines, about technology, and about how I didn't belong in this century. But as I spoke, the Eldress's face turned into a mask of stone. She didn't understand words like "museum" or "future." To her, I was speaking total nonsense—or worse, I was speaking in riddles meant to trick her.
The Eldress stood up slowly, leaning on a wooden cane. She walked around me in a slow, agonizingly quiet circle. She poked at the rubber sole of my sneaker with the tip of her cane, her face twisted in a scowl.
"You are a dangerous thing, Mary Ann," she whispered, her face coming inches from mine. "I do not know if you are mad, or if you are a creature sent to bring ruin to this house. But I know the hearts of the men in that town. Do you have any idea what they would do if they saw you like this?"
I felt a chill run down my spine. "I didn't mean to cause trouble..."
"It does not matter what you meant!" she snapped, her voice cracking with age. "This town is full of fear and hunger. They look for someone to blame for their misery. They see a girl in magic blue clothes, speaking of 'future' worlds, and they will see a witch. They will drag you to the square and stone you before the sun sets. And if they find you here, they will burn this house down with all my children inside."
I looked at the floor, tears pricking my eyes. The weight of her words felt heavier than the stone walls.
"I cannot have a 'dangerous thing' in my home," she said, her voice softening just a fraction. She walked over to a large wooden trunk in the corner and lifted the heavy lid. The smell of cedar and old dust filled the air. She reached inside and pulled out a bundle of heavy, dark fabric—a long wool skirt, a stiff blouse, and a thick apron.
"This was mine when I was a young girl your age," she said, tossing the bundle onto the small table. "Go. Strip away those cursed garments and put these on. Hide those blue rags at the very bottom of this trunk. You will never speak of your 'home' or your 'future' again. If anyone asks, you are a distant relative of Manya's who has lost her mind to the fever."
I clutched the scratchy wool to my chest. "Why help me? If I'm so dangerous, why not just throw me out?"
The Eldress looked at me, her sharp eyes flickering with a tiny bit of warmth. "Because Vanya and Dasha told me you gave them your last bite of food when you were starving yourself. In a world this cruel, a heart like that is rarer than gold. I will give you a chance to survive, Mary Ann. Do not make me regret it."
After the Eldress handed Mary Ann the bundle of clothes, Mary Ann turned slowly to leave. Clutching the heavy fabric to her chest, she pushed open the thick wooden door. As it swung wide, the world seemed to stop.
Standing directly in front of the door was Mikhail.
He didn't move, standing like a stone statue on guard. Their eyes met instantly. Mikhail's gaze was deep, dark, and hollow—there was no hint of trust in them. He looked at her as if he were peeling back the layers of her soul, searching for the danger he was certain she carried. Mary Ann felt the sheer weight of his suspicion; it was a look that said she didn't belong in this world and was a threat to everyone in it. She couldn't find her voice; she simply froze under the intensity of his glare.
"Mary Ann!"
Manya's voice broke the suffocating silence. The staring match snapped shut. Manya rushed over and grabbed Mary Ann's shoulder, her face etched with deep worry.
"Are you alright? What did the Eldress say?" Manya asked, her eyes scanning her friend to make sure she was unharmed.
Mary Ann couldn't answer immediately. Her attention was still locked on Mikhail. She watched him step past them, walking into the Eldress's room without a word or even a blink. Even with his back turned, Mary Ann could still feel the coldness his presence had left behind.
"Mary Ann, are you listening?" Manya called again.
Mary Ann took a deep breath and forced herself to look back at Manya. "Ah... yes, Manya. I'm fine."
As we left the Eldress's room, the heavy oak door clicked shut, sealing our conversation away like a buried secret. I kept my head down, my hands still trembling slightly as I clutched the bundle of old, scratchy clothes. The Eldress's warning echoed in my mind: You will never speak of your "future" again.
Manya walked quickly beside me, her eyes darting to my face with intense curiosity. We stepped past the main hearth where the fire crackled, its orange light dancing on the stone walls.
"Mary Ann," Manya whispered, leaning in close so the other children wouldn't hear. "What happened in there? What did she say to you once I left? She didn't... she didn't tell you to leave, did she?"
I tightened my grip on the fabric. I wanted to tell Manya everything—about the "magic" clothes and the museum—but I remembered the cold look in the Eldress's eyes. "She told me I can stay," I said quietly, keeping my voice neutral. "But she said I must be careful. She told me to hide where I came from and never speak of it again. Not to anyone."
Manya let out a long, shaky breath of relief. She crossed herself quickly. "Praise the saints. I was so afraid. The Eldress is... she is a powerful woman. We all fear her a little, but we love her more. Without her, none of us would be alive. She took me in when I had no one, just like she did for Vanya and Dasha."
I looked around the large, drafty hall as we walked. I saw a group of toddlers huddled on a rug, sharing a bowl of porridge, and older girls sitting in a circle mending thick wool socks.
"Are they all... like us?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of my fear. "All the children here? Are they all orphans?"
Manya nodded sadly. "Every single one. This is the House for the Forgotten. Some were left at the church steps, some were found in the woods like Mikhail, and some, like Vanya, lost their parents to the winter sickness. The Eldress takes in any child the world has thrown away. We are a family made of broken pieces, Mary Ann."
I looked at a little boy sitting by a pillar, his eyes huge and hollow. My heart ached for them. In my time, there were systems, social workers, and bright foster homes. Here, there was only a cold stone house and the iron will of one old woman.
"It's a lot of mouths to feed," I muttered, thinking of the bruised apple I had just eaten.
"It is," Manya sighed as we reached the door to my small room. "That is why everyone must work. Even the smallest child has a job. If you stay, you must work too. But first... we must hide the stranger in you."
We stepped into the small room and Manya closed the door. I looked at the bundle of 1800s clothes on the bed. Without a word, I started to peel off my hoodie and my denim jeans. I felt exposed, like I was shedding my skin.
I picked up the heavy wool skirt and the white blouse, but as I turned them over in my hands, I realized I was completely lost. There were no zippers. No elastic. Just long, confusing strings and tiny wooden buttons that didn't seem to match any holes. I tried to step into the skirt, but I put it on backward, the heavy fabric bunching up at my knees. I tried to tie the apron, but it ended up tangled around my neck.
"I... I don't know how to do this," I whispered, feeling tears of frustration pricking my eyes. "Everything is so heavy. How do you even breathe in this?"
A soft, warm hand landed on my arm. Manya smiled—a real, kind smile.
"Let me," she said gently. "You are like a newborn bird trying to grow feathers. It takes time."
She started with the white linen shift, pulling it straight. "This must be flat against you, or the wool will bite your skin all day." Then she lifted the massive wool skirt. "Step in here. Now, hold this string. You must pull it tight—tighter than that! It must sit high on your waist so your legs can move freely when you scrub the floors."
I winced as she pulled the drawstring, feeling the weight of the history settle on my hips.
"Now the apron," Manya continued, wrapping the long ties twice around my waist and finishing with a crisp bow at the front. "There. The apron is your shield. It keeps the dress clean. We only have one dress, Mary Ann. We treat it like gold."
Finally, she helped me with the vest, buttoning the wooden pegs one by one. I looked in the small, cracked mirror in the corner.
The girl in the jeans was gone. In her place stood a peasant girl with tired eyes and a heavy heart. I looked like I belonged to the stone walls.
"There," Manya whispered, looking at my reflection with pride. "Now, you are one of the forgotten. And in this house, that is the safest thing to be."
While Manya helped Mary Ann transform in the small guest room, the air inside the Eldress's chambers remained thick with tension. The door had barely clicked shut behind Mary Ann before Mikhail stepped forward from the shadows, his heavy boots silent on the stone floor.
He stood before the Eldress, his arms crossed over his chest. His face, usually a mask of stoic calm, was tight with a rare flash of emotion—concern.
"Eldress," Mikhail's voice was low, vibrating with a rough edge. "You are letting her stay. I saw it in the way she carried those clothes."
The Eldress reached for her cooling tea, her movements slow and deliberate. "She is a guest of this house, Mikhail. She is weak, she is lost, and she is alone. Would you have me throw her to the wolves in the town square?"
"She is not just a 'guest,'" Mikhail countered, stepping closer to the hearth. The firelight caught the sharpness of his jaw. "Look at her, Eldress. Even in your old rags, she does not fit. Her speech is wrong. Her eyes see things we do not see. She is a danger. If the Watch finds her here—if they think we are harboring a spy or a... a witch—it won't just be her who suffers."
He gestured toward the door, toward the hallway where dozens of children were sleeping and working. "The children, Eldress. Vanya, Dasha... all of them. One mistake from that girl and the town will have an excuse to burn this sanctuary to the ground. Is one stranger worth the lives of everyone in this house?"
The Eldress set her cup down. The clink of ceramic against wood sounded like a gavel in the quiet room. She looked up at Mikhail, her piercing eyes softening only for him. She knew his heart; he didn't hate Mary Ann, he simply loved the family they had built too much to lose it.
"She is not a danger, Mikhail," the Eldress said firmly. "I have looked into her soul. She is not a spy, nor is she a creature of darkness. She is merely a girl who has traveled a road longer and stranger than any we have walked. She has a kindness in her—the kind that shared bread with the hungry when she had nothing herself."
"Kindness does not stop a fire from burning," Mikhail muttered, his gaze falling to the flames in the hearth.
"No," the Eldress agreed. "But fear is what starts the fire. If we turn our backs on those in need because we are afraid, then we have already lost what makes this house a home."
She leaned forward, her voice becoming a command. "You will watch her, Mikhail. Not as an enemy, but as a guardian. Teach her our ways. Make sure she stays hidden. If she is a 'trouble' for the future, then it is your job to ensure that future never comes."
Mikhail remained silent for a long time, the muscles in his jaw working. Finally, he gave a single, sharp nod of respect. "I will watch her. But if she brings the Watch to our gates, Eldress... I will do what I must to protect the children."
"I expect nothing less," the Eldress whispered.
As Mikhail turned to leave, his heart was heavy with a feeling he couldn't name. He didn't trust the girl with the blue trousers, but he trusted the Eldress with his life. He stepped out into the hallway, his eyes immediately searching for the door where the stranger was hiding, preparing himself for the storm he felt was coming.