Chapter 2
The cup of tea Hope sets on the table for me sends streams of fragrant steam to my nose, kissing my cold skin with an inviting warmth. I cup the mug in my hands to relax myself. The weather here is similar to Sanctum, with a clear sky and calm wind dancing through the trees, but the air is thinner. I take a sip of the hot liquid and sink further into the wooden chair. I’ve been sitting here in silence for the past hour while she cleans. I think a few times, Hope asks me a question, but I’m too shocked to register the words. I’ve heard fairy tales and conspiracies about the anomaly, but to take any of it as truth would be blasphemy against the Primes. I never suspected it could be true, or that it could transport one to an entirely new planet without spacecraft, but I’m sitting here now, unable to deny what my eyes are seeing. Have the Children of Gabriel been right all along? Hope finishes cleaning dishes in a deep sink before joining me across the table, thankfully taking me out of my racing thoughts.
"How is the tea?" She asks, taking a sip herself. "It's made with lavender to calm anxiety."
I smile at the thoughtful gesture. "It's great. Thank you."
“And your head? Has the bleeding stopped?” Hope asks as she rises to her feet to check the bandage. She peels it back with a delicate touch before replacing it and walking back to her seat. “Shouldn’t take too long to heal. Just let me know if it begins to hurt worse.”
“I will,” I respond and take another sip. Her presence takes me out of my head and I finally see my surroundings for the first time. It’s a charming wooden cabin with an open layout and what appears to be a bedroom behind a door on the wall opposite from me. The garden outside explodes with green vines that tap on the far window through the gusts of wind. Sheer curtains drape over the few windows, casting dim rays on sunlight across the woven rugs, baskets of harvested produce, and artwork that looks like it was made by a child.
“Who else lives here?” I ask.
“Just me.” Hope must notice my face contort in confusion as I eye the artwork. “Oh,” she adds, a small smile dimming her laugh. “Those are mine. From years ago.”
My stomach sinks at her words. At first it’s pity for the girl who’s seemingly spent her life alone, but then it morphs into a selfish concern. If she hasn’t been able to escape, how will I? My heart aches and my injured head throbs at the thought of my parents. Will I ever see them again? I fight the urge to stand up and run outside, back to the lake, to look for some way out. Instead, I take a grounding breath, and sort through my restless thoughts.
“What happened to your parents?” I blurt out. I curse myself for prodding this woman who has been nothing but helpful to me, but am surprised to see she doesn’t falter at my question.
“My mom is stuck somewhere else. I’ve been trying to save her and bring us both back to Sanctum, but my plan is going to need some reworking,” Hope explains. She watches me as she speaks, a glint of amusement in her brown eyes. Perhaps I’m the first person she’s seen in quite some time, or she’s getting a kick out of introducing me to all these crazy ideas. I can no longer tell if my headache is from the injury or from this overload of information. I keep waiting for this world to collapse, the walls falling one by one, the sky dissolving into darkness, and I wake up at home in my bed. Somehow that seems more conceivable than this reality. “And my dad…” Hope continues, but her voice trails off as quick as it begins. “I never knew him.”
“I’m sorry,” is all I can say. I could never imagine my life without my father. He made me who I am.
“Don’t be,” she says with a reassuring smile. I stare at her in awe, wondering how someone who has gone through so much can still sit here and be happy. I take another look around at the tiny house and suddenly feel warm and welcome. The kitchen emits a comforting heat and fragrance where she cooks us something in a large pot. The couch beside us is draped in thick blankets and books strewn about. The lake outside shimmers and sends beams of dancing sunlight throughout the yard.
I guess if I were to be stuck anywhere, I’m glad it’s here.