The night after absorbing the girl's ghost was terrifying. I couldn't sleep for more than ten minutes at a time. I saw the moments before the girl's death as if I had lived them myself. My heart raced, my body was drenched in cold sweat, my stomach turned and I even screamed when I saw the knife that tore the victim's throat. Her flowered dress and the teddy bear she was hugging became stained with blood.

As soon as she heard me, the lady of the house immediately ran to my room and suddenly turned on the light. Seeing me pale and trembling, she came up to hug me for the umpteenth time. Thanks to her and her melodious voice, I regained calm for a while. Still, I didn't allow myself to fall asleep again. Seeing again the horror that took the life of an innocent girl was too much for me. However, the worst thing of all was not having witnessed that.

Never, in all my time as a warrior, had I experienced anything like it. Collecting wandering souls had never produced negative physical or mental effects. Apart from a slight dizziness at the end of the process, I didn't feel any change inside of me. Even after fighting the powerful Dákamas, my brain only retained memories of the battle itself. I never knew exactly what event had turned all those murdered people into vortexes of darkness. That truth that seemed unalterable crumbled when I absorbed the girl's corrupt essence.

What is happening to me? After long hours of waking up thinking about it, I finally get a coherent idea. What if this strange change is my punishment for failing in the last battle? Maybe Gildestrale is testing me. Maybe this is her way of knowing if I'm worthy of continuing to bear her marks. Suffering what every wandering soul suffered seems to me a fair price for having failed in my duty. I purse my lips and breathe out through my nose very slowly.

At that moment, the door to my dark room opens slightly. A few rays of sun filter through the opening, announcing that it is already daytime to me. The lady looks out carefully, probably so as not to wake me from sleep. What she doesn't know is that I couldn't sleep even a little after having the nightmare. She surely sees the exhaustion on my face, because she sighs and twists her mouth into a grimace of sadness as she looks at me. Finding me awake must be a bad sign.

"Good morning, Oli! Forgive me if I woke you up," she says, embarrassed.

"No, calm down," I answer and try to smile.

The forced movement of my lips is not reflected in my eyes. She notices it right away. I sense it when her shoulders fall, but she doesn't tell me anything about it.

"Have you been awake for a long time? I hope not..."

"Just a moment."

I swallow hard. It's getting more and more annoying for me to lie to this woman, even though I still don't know why.

"You must be hungry, right?"

I'm about to shake my head when my stomach decides to answer for me. The loud roar it emits makes it very clear that I am, indeed, starving.

"Ja jeg er sulten." 1

After listening to me, the lady wrinkles her eyebrows. She shakes her head sharply and scratches behind her ears. My eyes widen as I notice the same thing she noticed.

"Sorry, what did you say? I'm sure I'm much more tired than I thought, because I didn't understand you at all."

I am as much or even more perplexed than the woman. I clear my throat a little and cover my mouth with a hand. I pretend to have a cough, because I need time to think. What was that!? Until now, I had not stopped to think for a single second about something that is very strange. Why can I understand others and why, in turn, do they understand me when we speak? The simple answer would be because we speak the same language, right? But that doesn't make sense. I never learned a second language!

Since I woke up after the battle, I have heard several people speak and have engaged in conversations without problems. All of this has happened through a language that is not the one I learned in my land. The phrase I just involuntarily uttered does belong to my native language. When did I learn another language!? How come I hadn't noticed? I don't even know the name of the new language I speak or what lands it belongs to. What happened!?

Whatever it was, it's not a good idea to stay silent any longer. If I am trapped in enemy territory, prolonged silence could be interpreted as a suspicious act. Only elite spies refrain from speaking, even when subjected to torture. Remembering that gives me strength to continue with this strange farce. After clearing my throat again, I inhale deeply and focus all my attention on what I want to convey.

"I said 'yes, I am hungry.' Maybe I didn't move my mouth enough and that's why you didn't understand me," I say with a hint of a smile.

The moment that passes without getting a response seems eternal to me. I pray internally that I haven't inadvertently used my native language again. To my relief, the lady smiles from ear to ear.

"Ah! What a difference! Don't worry, honey, I'll bring your breakfast right away."

"Thank you so much."

After giving me a wink, the woman turns around and walks away from my room. As soon as I see the leg, I release the breath that tension had made me hold. I clench both my eyelids and my jaw to keep from losing control. Once again, I feel a terrible urge to scream. When I think I'm improving, that I'm finally understanding what's happening, a new question pops up to destabilize my mind. How am I going to get out of here blindly? I can't even understand myself. This situation is beyond me in every possible way.

"I'm back, Oli."

The lady places what looks like a flattened board on the table and prepares to open the curtains. The sun pours through the window like a waterfall. I squint for a few seconds, but it doesn't take me long to get used to the pretty glow.

"I'll prepare some crepes with honey and walnuts. I also brought you hot milk. I hope you like it."

She approaches my bed to raise the backrest a little. When it reaches the appropriate height, she turns to take the object where she brought the food. With great care, she places it in front of me. I glance at it curiously. It doesn't wobble or weigh down, as it has some kind of little legs on the sides that keep it firm above my legs. I have never seen a thing like this one, and I think it's wonderful. I would like to ask her what its name is, but I hold back. I don't want to seem ignorant or out of place.

"Breakfast looks and smells great," I say, excited.

I've never eaten anything similar to what she brought me, but it looks delicious. Without thinking twice, I stretch out my fingers to take the food.

"Are you going to eat with your hands, darling?" she asks, surprised. "I have no problems with that, but they will be very sticky because of the honey."

"Oh yes, you're right," I answer, hesitantly.

While I was a warrior in Mánesvart, I never needed any instrument to eat food. My colleagues and I were always very busy. There was no time to choose and prepare food. We held the energy bulbs that were given to us periodically with both hands, since they weighed almost two kilos. Each person sipped the amount of nectar according to their caloric expenditure for the day and returned the surplus to the person in charge of their regiment. We had a balanced diet without worrying about anything else. Why is everything so different here?

I bite my lip and look at the metal utensils next to the food my hostess brought. One of them has four equal tines and a handle at the opposite end. The next one is a wide sunken head piece with a handle. The third is a long flat blade with small teeth and a handle. I don't know what these things are or how they are used, but I guess the lady expects me to use them. With a slight tremor, I take the serrated utensil and slide it down the middle of the crepes. Seeing how they split into two, I silently congratulate myself. Despite how strange it seems to me to eat like this, perhaps it is not so difficult to adapt to the customs of this place.

"That's it, darling. You have no idea how happy I am to see you like this," the woman states, her voice breaking with emotion.

At her sincere reaction, I give her a genuine smile. I continue dividing the crepe into smaller pieces and when I'm done, I choose the spiked utensil. Its shape tells me that it is the most suitable for holding the pieces. I pierce one of the pieces, lift it from the plate and put it in my mouth. As soon as I start chewing it, a satisfied sigh escapes me. It's delicious! I didn't know what to expect from this unknown food, but now I know it's going to become one of my favorites.

"I'm glad you like crepes! If you want more, just tell me and I'll prepare them."

"OK."

I take my time chewing every part of this meal as if it were my last. If it is poisoned, at least I will die happy to have tasted it. Although, at this point, I increasingly doubt that this woman wants to hurt me. Even though I don't know her, there is something about her that I like. She always makes me feel comfortable and loved. Having her around is like medicine. With her, I don't feel like being defensive. I just hope I'm not making a horrible mistake.

"Well? Do you want a little more or should I take the plates?"

The woman watches me carefully. She is waiting for an answer that I don't know how to give her. My restless stomach tells me that I could eat much more. But I feel embarrassed asking favors from others, even more so if they are strangers. Even when I was at home, I didn't allow myself that freedom. My mother instilled in my sister and me that we should take care of ourselves. I only know how to act without waiting for others to solve my life. Maybe that doesn't apply right now, maybe I'm exaggerating. However, it's hard to get those ideas out of my head.

"I think I have room for another crepe," I say quietly and look away.

"I'll bring it right away!" she responds, enthusiastically.

When she is going to remove the utensils, she stops for a second to look at me. I don't know what she detects in my eyes, but it's surely not joy. She gives me a somewhat sad smile and extends her hand to hold mine. The moment our palms touch, my world takes a new unexpected turn. Without warning, a torrent of images stirs my thoughts like a cyclone. I hold my breath; my jaw goes slack and my eyelids open wide.

I hear noises of all kinds, I see fragments of faces and places, I even smell scents. Everything is intertwined in a whirlwind of memories that I don't recognize. The common denominator in the midst of the sensory overload is this lady. Her face, always friendly and smiling, looks younger than it is now. I hear laughter, songs and disconnected phrases that seem to come out of my mouth, but I do not perceive them as mine. In the midst of these strange visions, I tell the woman that I love her and, for a few seconds, a warmth in my chest makes me believe that it is true.

"Olivia, what's wrong with you? What do you feel, my daughter?"

The lady releases my right palm and holds my face with both hands. She runs her thumbs tenderly over my cheeks. ln that moment, I come out of the trance and notice that I am crying my eyes out. I inhale deeply and a broken sob escapes me. What was all that I just saw!? My entire body shakes hard, shocked. My senses seem to cling to something that had been taken from them. Still, my mind refuses to accept what it has seen as its own. I'm sure that's not my life, and at the same time, it feels like it is.

"Could you hug me, please?" I beg between sighs.

The woman doesn't hesitate for a moment and wraps her soft arms around me. After a while in silence, her warmth finally makes me calm down again. My bladder is full, so I ask her for help getting to the toilet. After the episode of vomiting while using my marks, I had a strong discomfort in my intestines and I told the lady. She immediately pulled down my underwear and guided me to the hollow seat next to the mirror. That's how I knew that it is in that strange container where biological needs are done. I was used to sitting on quicksand and having it absorb everything. Looks like I'll have to forget about that while I'm here.

After cleaning myself, I ask the lady to come. She comes in immediately and helps me up without saying a word. We walked together back to bed. Once she arranges a blanket over my legs, she makes an effort to smile, but fails. She lets out a long breath as she shakes her head. She swallows hard and then looks me in the eyes. Her forehead wrinkles.

"Oli, we can't keep pretending that everything is great with you. We both know that's not the case. You may not like talking to a mental health specialist at first, but you need it. I'm going to schedule an appointment for you in psychology so that you can be seen as soon as possible. Unfortunately, not everything is cured with just hugs and caresses," she says in a dull tone.

I frown and tilt my head. I'm getting more and more confused. I don't know what the word psychology means. But judging by the worried look on the lady's face, it's not a pleasant thing. Everything indicates that I will once again face an experience that will be as unknown as it is terrifying. I begin to tremble already, begging Gildestrale to retain the little sanity I have left.

1. Translation of the fragment into English: "Yes, I am hungry."