Chapter 5

Q's arms shook as she clung to the iron bars, her body swaying like a rag doll caught in the wind. Her legs no longer listened to her, trembling so badly that she lost her footing on the lower rung.

"Hey! Stop right there!" 

The voice called again, sharper this time, but she couldn't make out where it was coming from. The world was tilting, spinning, the ornate gate and the spires beyond it blurring together.

Her grip slipped.

The faint scream she heard might have been her own, or someone else's—it was hard to tell as the ground rushed up to meet her. 

And then, nothing.

Darkness.

Q woke with a start, her body jolting upright as her lungs gasped for air. For a moment, she thought she might still be falling. Her arms flailed instinctively, grabbing at the nothingness around her, but then she froze.

This wasn't the muddy ground she'd been expecting. This wasn't the harsh wooden floor of the barn, or even the dirt-packed paths she'd walked for hours. No, this was something entirely different.

She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the soft, pale light filtering through the room. The world around her was pristine, impossibly clean, and startlingly white. She was lying on a bed so soft it felt like clouds cradling her—softer than anything she'd ever imagined existed.

She ran her hands across the fabric beneath her, marveling at its smoothness. Pillows, plump and perfectly white, surrounded her. A faint floral scent clung to the linens, nothing like the damp, musty straw she usually called a mattress.

Slowly, she sat up, her fingers gripping the edge of the bed as she took in the rest of the room. It was large and airy, with walls that gleamed like polished marble. Plush chairs, their upholstery a deep crimson, were scattered throughout the space. A long table stood in the center, flanked by strange, shining machines with dials and levers she didn't recognize.

It was too much—too opulent, too overwhelming. This wasn't a place meant for someone like her.

"Where am I?" she whispered to herself, her voice hoarse and shaky.

The words barely left her lips before she heard footsteps.

Her heart leapt into her throat as the sound grew louder, steady and deliberate. She turned her head toward the door, her breath hitching as it swung open.

The man who entered was unlike anyone she had ever seen. He was tall and thin, his movements precise as he strode into the room. A wide-brimmed hat shadowed most of his face, but she could see the glint of his enormous round glasses, which magnified his piercing gray eyes to an almost comical size. His long coat swished around his legs as he stopped near the foot of her bed, studying her with an expression that was equal parts curiosity and amusement.

"Well," he said, his voice low and smooth. "You've caused quite a stir, haven't you?"

Q stared at him, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. She didn't know what to say, didn't even know if she could speak. Her throat felt dry, and her head still spun from everything that had happened.

The man raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly. 

"I'll start, then," he said. "I'm Professor Ligarius. And you, my dear, are trespassing."

Trespassing? The word made her stomach lurch. 

She wanted to explain herself, but no sound came out. Instead, her eyes welled up with tears.

Professor Ligarius sighed, removing his hat and placing it on one of the nearby chairs. 

"There's no need for waterworks," he said, though his tone wasn't unkind. "Just tell me what you were doing climbing the gate to RAPS. And perhaps start with your name?"

Q's fingers gripped the edge of the blanket tightly, her knuckles turning white. 

"I—" Her voice cracked, and the tears she'd been holding back spilled over. 

"I don't know," she choked out. "I don't know what I'm doing. I just… I just wanted to see Maddy."

Professor Ligarius's head tilted again, but this time there was something softer in his expression. "Maddy?"

"My friend," Q whispered, her words tumbling out in between gasping sobs. "She's the only person who—who ever made me feel like I wasn't nothing. But she left. And my parents, they—they hit me, and they yell, and the pigs—"

She broke off, her hands flying to her face as she wept openly. 

"I don't belong anywhere. I just wanted—" Her voice cracked again, raw and desperate. "I just wanted to find her. I thought maybe if I got here, if I found Maddy, it wouldn't hurt so much anymore."

The room fell silent, save for the sound of Q's ragged breathing.

Professor Ligarius didn't speak immediately. He removed his glasses, polishing them slowly with a handkerchief as he seemed to consider her words. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than before, almost gentle.

"Well," he said, "It seems to me that you've had quite the day."

Q let out a watery laugh, though it sounded more like a hiccup. 

Professor Ligarius stepped closer, his long coat sweeping behind him. 

"I'll admit, it's not every day we get someone trying to climb the gate. And certainly not someone carrying…" He glanced at the small box sitting on the table nearby. "...a rather curious bundle of letters."

Q's cheeks burned, her tears momentarily forgotten as she looked at the box. 

"They're for Maddy," she mumbled, her fingers twisting the edge of the blanket. "One for every day she's gone."

Professor Ligarius's brow furrowed slightly. He studied her for a moment longer, his sharp eyes seeming to pierce through her. Then he nodded, as if coming to a decision.

"Well, Miss…?"

"Q," she said quickly, her voice steadier now. "Just Q."

"Well, Q," he said, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. "It seems you've wandered into quite the predicament. But if you'll allow me, I'd like to help you figure out what to do next."

Q blinked up at him, her tears drying as a flicker of hope sparked in her chest. 

"You'd help me?"

"It's not every day a girl falls at the gates of RAPS and then demands something," he said, his tone light but pointed. "Most girls we train here don't ask for anything—they're happy with what they're given. But then, it's only those with nothing who keep asking for everything, isn't it?"

Q's face burned at his words, the sting of shame spreading hot and fast through her chest. She looked down, her fingers twisting the edge of the blanket as the apology tumbled from her lips. "I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be… demanding. I just didn't know what else to—"

"Don't apologize."

The firmness in Professor Ligarius's voice made her head snap up. He was studying her intently now, his sharp gray eyes softened by something almost like amusement.

"It's refreshing," he continued, folding his arms as he leaned back slightly. "Not every day does a girl ask for what she wants. Especially here. Most of the girls we train are taught to accept what they're given without question. They think it's a virtue to be silent, to wait."

Q blinked, uncertain whether his words were a compliment or an insult.

"But you," Professor Ligarius went on, the corner of his mouth quirking upward, "You didn't wait. You spoke up. You acted. You climbed a gate, fainted halfway up, and demanded to see your friend." 

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I think I rather like that. A girl who asks for what she wants, even when the world tells her she shouldn't—that's a rare thing."

Professor Ligarius's expression turned thoughtful as he leaned forward slightly. 

"Always do that," he said, his voice softer now. "Always speak out, even when it's hard. Even when it feels like no one is listening."

What she couldn't know—what he couldn't know—was how those simple words of encouragement would shape everything that came next. How, years later, Professor Ligarius would come to regret what he had told her.

But for now, neither of them knew the weight of that moment. 

After all, it was only the beginning.