4. Breakfast of Strangers

They reached the breakfast hall, and Sia had to blink twice just to believe it was real.

This place wasn't a dining room. It was a throne room in disguise.

The ceiling curved high above like the inside of a jewelry box, painted and carved like it belonged in a palace museum. Velvet teal curtains draped the tall windows in layers, tied with golden ropes, filtering the light so everything inside looked soft and unreal.

And in the middle, like the heart of a royal performance, sat the table.

It was long, oval, ridiculously polished, the kind that looked too expensive to eat on. Plates were already set, napkins folded, cutlery gleaming like tiny swords. A line of fruit and flowers stretched down the center like some kind of offering.

But no one was here yet.

Only five chairs had been placed. Two on each side of the table, and one at the head. All were perfectly arranged, cushions thick and deep red, legs carved like they were sculpted by gods who had too much time on their hands.

Sia slowed down.

Elowen didn’t.

She walked her all the way to the second chair on the left and let go of her arm gently. "Sit, sweetheart," she said, brushing a strand of hair from Sia’s face. "You’ll be alright."

Sia didn’t sit.

She just stood there, staring at those five chairs.

Five chairs meant five people.

Two of them was her and Elowen, apparently but she didn't know who the other three were.

Her stomach twisted again, not from hunger this time, but from the kind of nervousness that made your limbs feel like jelly.

She glanced around the room. Chandeliers swayed slightly, catching the gold. Curtains danced in the soft breeze. Everything was perfect and suspicious.

Elowen turned to her with a soft smile. "I’ll call them in."

And then she walked away leaving Sia standing alone.

It’s okay, Sia. You can do it.

The words echoed in her head like a breath she couldn’t release.

Then came the soft giggles, distant and airy, floating in through the window like they belonged to another world entirely.

Her curiosity flickered to life. She walked over to the window and gently parted the curtains.

Her breath caught.

The garden outside was nothing like the ones she had ever seen in her own world. It stretched far and wide, painted in colours that didn’t seem real. The flowers bloomed in impossible shades like lavender, sea-green, deep gold, and pale blues, shapes like bells, jellyfish, and curling ribbons. Their stems faded and flickered as the sunlight shifted, until the flowers seemed to hang weightlessly in the air.

From the corner of her eyes, she noticed movements. She pressed her palms against the glass and leaned forward.

There it was again.

Tiny creatures ran through the garden, darting between the roots and petals. At first glance, they looked like rabbits. But not quite. Their eyes were like polished sapphires, glowing faintly. Their tails were long and speckled, almost feline. Some had long ears that curled backward, patterned with orange stripes, and their legs bent like kangaroos.

She whispered, voice barely there, "What is this place…"

This wasn’t her world.

And even though she already knew it deep down, the sight of this garden carved the truth into her like stone.

She was somewhere else now, where she couldn't leave.

The door swung open so suddenly Sia flinched.

Three men stepped in. Her body went stiff.

The two younger ones—Kirill and Esther brightened instantly at the sight of her. Esther’s entire face lit up, his smile so wide it looked like it might break his cheeks. He looked like he was about to bolt straight to her side, and the thought alone made Sia’s chest tighten.

The third man was different. He was older and his presence filled the room in a way that wasn’t heavy, just… respectful. His hair, bright red, was streaked with white, and the lines on his face looked carved in from years of holding too much together. His eyes were warm brown, rimmed with dark circles.

This had to be Duke Oberon. The father.

The man who looked at her like she was the center of his world.

He stepped forward slowly, careful like she was fragile glass. "Eri," he said, voice trembling in a way she didn’t expect from someone like him. "How are you feeling?"

Her throat closed up. She couldn’t make a sound, couldn't even blink properly. She just stared at him, her mind scrambling, body refusing to obey.

Behind her, Elowen’s voice broke the silence calmly. "She isn’t speaking much yet. Let’s not press her, my lord."

The Duke gave the smallest nod, though his eyes didn’t leave her. His lips pressed into a smile that looked more like it was holding back grief than joy.

They all moved to the table together.

Oberon took the head seat, Elowen beside Sia, and the boys sat across from them. They tried not to stare too openly, but they couldn’t help themselves. Every glance carried something.... Maybe relief, hope, guilt.

Sia lowered herself into the chair, her fingers gripping the edge of the table like she was bracing against waves.

The food spread before her was overwhelming. Platters of fruit she didn’t recognize, meats glistening with spices that smelled too rich, pastries layered in sugar and cream. None of it looked like food she’d ever eaten. She had no idea what to touch, what to pick up, or even how to hold the strange utensils.

So she waited and watched them.

Esther and Kirill moved first, lifting forks and knives with ease. She mirrored them awkwardly but her motions were stiff. When she finally put a bite into her mouth, the flavors burst too strong, too sweet, too sharp.

Oh my—so sweet!

Her body flinched again and eyes widened, though she tried to hide it.

The boys noticed. She could tell by the way their eyes darted to her, then away, pretending not to stare.

Kirill cleared his throat, his voice soft. "It’s… it’s good to see you eat, Eri."

Esther jumped in, almost tripping over his own words. "We—we missed you. The garden’s been boring without you. I mean… we didn’t touch it. We left everything the way you liked."

His words spilled out too fast, desperate in a way that tugged at her chest.

Oberon’s voice was composed, but softer than she expected. "You don’t need to force yourself, child. Take your time. That’s all we want. Just you here with us."

Sia froze again.

Their love was gentle.

It wasn’t the love she knew...the harsh scolding of teachers, the silence of neighbors, the stern distance of strangers. This was something else entirely, something she had never experienced, something warm and gentle.

And she didn’t know how to sit with it.

Their soft voices blended together ike they were trying to stitch her back into the life she didn’t remember.

Esther leaned forward on his elbows, grinning at her in that boyish way. "You used to steal desserts from the kitchen when no one was watching. Do you remember? You’d swear up and down you didn’t, but your hands were always sticky."

Kirill shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "And you’d drag us into it, too. You made us cover for you every single time." His voice cracked just slightly, like the memory was too sharp to hold comfortably.

Sia forced a small twitch of her lips, but inside, her chest felt twisted.

Oberon watched her quietly before speaking, his voice softer than before. "You were our spoiled little princess. Do you know how quiet the house has been without your laughter echoing through it?"

She stared down at the plate in front of her, fingers tightening around the fork. Her unfamiliar reflection in the polished silver wobbled, blurred.

They kept going.

Esther’s tone turned brighter, like he was afraid of silence. "We kept your garden untouched even a single flower. You always said no one else was allowed to prune them, only you." He chuckled, though his eyes shone with something heavier. "It still looks like a jungle without you."

Her head started to pound. Each word they spoke tugged at her, painted pictures in her mind that weren’t hers. Those were blurry images, half-formed flashes that slipped away when she tried to hold them.

She pressed her fingertips against her temple, trying to breathe, but the ache only deepened.

Elowen leaned closer, her hand brushing Sia’s shoulder gently. "Sweetheart, are you alright?"

Sia blinked rapidly, her vision swimming. "I… I don’t…" The words stuck.

Kirill’s chair scraped softly as he stood, his expression filled with worry, though he tried to keep it calm. "Don’t push yourself. If you don’t remember yet, it’s alright. You don’t have to."

Esther frowned, his fingers tightening on his napkin. "But she has to remember… she has to."

"Esther," Oberon’s voice cut in, loud and stern. He gave his son a look before turning back to Sia. His brown eyes were so heavy with love it made her throat tighten. "Don’t force her. She’ll come back to us in her own time."

Come back.

To them?

Sia’s hands trembled in her lap. They were talking to her like she belonged, like she was their missing piece returned at last. Every word wrapped around her like warmth she’d never known… and it terrified her.

Because it wasn’t hers.

None of it was.

And yet, when Oberon reached across the table and covered her hand with his, she didn’t pull away.

Her head throbbed harder, but for some reason… she couldn’t let go.

The room fell silent, except for her heavy, fractured breathing.

And for the first time, she realized they looked at her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

But the pain didn’t stop. It clawed deeper, sharper, tearing through her skull like fire. She cried out, clutching her head, stumbling sideways until her knees buckled.

"Eri!" Elowen darted forward, trying to hold her, but Sia jerked, twisting away, her body shaking like she was fighting something only she could see.

"Don’t touch me—don’t—!" Her voice broke into another scream.

Oberon’s face hardened, even as fear shadowed his eyes. "Esther—fetch the physician. Now!"

Esther froze for half a second, eyes wide with shock, then bolted for the door, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

Kirill was already moving closer, though his hands hovered uncertainly in the air. He wanted to grab her, to keep her from falling apart in front of him, but the panic in her eyes made him stop. "Eri, listen to me—just breathe—breathe with me, alright?" His voice trembled, betraying the calm mask he tried to wear.

Sia couldn’t. The world around her fractured. flashes stabbing behind her eyes, laughter, voices, hands reaching out, memories that weren’t hers crowding in. She pressed her palms harder to her skull, as if she could crush them out of existence.

"I can’t—I can’t—I don’t know you—I don’t—!" Her words spiraled into sobs.

Elowen ignored her protests, kneeling at her side, as she tried to guide Sia down. "Sweetheart, you’re safe, just let go, don't panic—"

Oberon was at her other side now, one hand braced against her back even as she thrashed weakly. His voice was deep and desperate. "It’s alright, my girl. You’re home. Whatever this is, we’ll face it together. Just hold on—"

Her vision blurred, black edges creeping in, the chandelier above spinning into meaningless streaks of light. Her legs gave out completely, and she sagged against Elowen’s arms.

The last thing she saw was Oberon’s face above hers which was creased with terror, but softer than anything she’d ever known.

And then came darkness.

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