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1.
The voice first came when Matilda was very small. Her parents were busy tending the farm, as they always were, so she had climbed into the hayloft of the barn to bide her time. This was where she kept all of the baubles she found around the property so that she could come back to them and make them into something new. She’d just finished sticking the new feather she’d found into her bird when it happened.
“We’re comin’ up, honey,” said the voice, and Matilda froze. It wasn’t the voice of anyone she knew, and it seemed to come from inside her head, not from the barn below. Her parents had always told her to stay away from strangers, so her instinct was to hide, but…this voice was so gentle, so sweet. Its owner couldn’t possibly be bad, Matilda decided within seconds.
So, Matilda waited for this stranger to climb the ladder and join her. A moment passed, and another. An odd feeling washed over her as if somebody were there, but she couldn’t see anyone. So, she went back to playing until the voice came again.
“Who are the dolls, honey?”
Matilda glanced around the barn. Whoever it was, they could see her. Why couldn’t she see them? But it didn’t matter. No one had ever asked about her dolls before, not even her parents.
“They’re…I made a nice lady,” Matilda said. “And I…I made a bird that can take me away from here.” She felt a little silly now that she hadn’t given them names. She would have to think of some fast in case the stranger wanted to play with her.
“We can be that bird for you,” came the sweet voice again. “We can take you away.”
Matilda paused. “Where would we go?”
“Home. Somewhere safe.”
Home? Matilda was home. She didn’t particularly like it here, but she had never known another home, so what was the nice stranger talking about? Their home, maybe. Matilda wondered what that place might look like, whether it was a run-down farmhouse like her home or something bigger and fancier. She wanted to ask, but the voice was asking strange questions now about a mean lady. Matilda knew many mean ladies within the city walls, so she pointed, and then the voice left. She wished for a moment that she had lied, had said something to keep the voice there, but it wasn’t long before she forgot all about it anyway.
2.
Matilda recognized the voice the moment she heard it. It had been so many years—nearly a decade—and she had been so young, she couldn’t remember the details. But details aside, the voice was familiar. It sounded exactly the same as before.
It came as she was just about to finally, finally make a connection with Andy. They didn’t know each other well, but their parents often did business, and Andy was cute, and his friends were always laughing at his jokes, and for years Matilda had wanted to be part of that. He’d never offered to play with her before, though. She almost wasn’t sure if she should accept the offer.
And, like an answer to her silent question, the voice came: “Laudna?”
Matilda didn’t know a Laudna, but she knew the voice. And there was no one else to ask. So, she thought back to the voice as hard as she could, hoping her words would get through.
“I don’t know if I should say yes. I like him, though.”
There was a lull as Andy told her the name of the game and drew something out of his pocket, then, “Don’t trust him, Laudna.”
“Why?” The voice was the same, but it was…different this time. Upset. And why did it keep calling her Laudna?
“Laudna—”
Matilda hesitated. “He’s invited me to play a game. That’s nice, right?”
“Laudna, tell us how to find you. Come home.”
This was getting frustrating. Who did this voice think it was to boss her around? She wasn’t little anymore; she could play games with the other kids if she wanted. She could make friends. Just once. “But I like him,” she replied.
“Laudna, don’t trust him.”
Andy pulled her attention back to him, urging her to accept his game. Normally, she would have done it without a second thought, but the voice sounded desperate. Maybe it was just the voice making her nervous, but something about Andy’s smile seemed off now. The voice, strange and unknown as it was, suddenly felt more trustworthy than the boy in front of her.
She took one step back. Two. Andy’s smile twisted into a mean grimace, and she barely managed to dodge the fistful of dirt he threw at her. It hurt, but at least he didn’t get a secret from her. He didn’t deserve her secrets, and somehow, the voice had known it. She wouldn’t forget about it this time.
3.
“Did you run?”
Matilda faltered as she ran a comb through her hair. The voice, as always, was unexpected, but this time it brought a small smile to her face despite the ominous words. It was nice to hear it again. “Oh, hello,” she said.
“Where are you?”
“Um.” Matilda hesitated. She barely remembered the first time this voice had spoken to her, and last time she hadn’t thought about it, but she’d take her chance now. It was her turn to ask questions. “Who is this?”
“It—It’s Imogen. I’m a friend.”
Matilda sighed. Imogen. She had never heard the name before, not even in stories. This wasn’t some long-gone family member, it wasn’t a god. Perhaps it was just someone playing tricks on her. “I’m very busy right now,” she said. “I’m getting dressed.”
“Are you going to a dinner?”
Again, Matilda hesitated. “Yeah. Are you going, too? Who is this?” Whoever it was had known things they shouldn’t last time as well, but maybe she could worm some more information out of them if she humored them.
“Matilda?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t go.”
Matilda’s heart beat hard in her chest. Just like last time, this voice came with a warning, but unlike last time, she had responsibilities now. She couldn’t just…not go. Her family depended on this. On her. And though the voice had helped her before, she simply couldn’t listen to it now.
“I must. I’m sorry.”
The voice didn’t reply, and for a moment Matilda thought that was the end of it. Maybe she’d hear it again in another few years, and maybe then she’d find a way to discover who was behind it. She wished she could now, but she just didn’t have time.
Then, it was back.
“Matilda? Can you hear me?”
Matilda ignored the voice and gently took her mother’s outfit from her. The fabric was nice, softer than any of the clothes she’d ever worn. Probably not of a quality the Briarwoods would expect, but she didn’t have much of a choice.
“Something bad’s gonna happen.” The voice sounds so gentle and so, so sad. It’s hard to ignore. “We’re gonna help you, okay? When it starts to get scary, you just come find us. We’re gonna get you home, okay?”
Matilda glanced outside. There was no one there—of course there was no one there. There never was. But something pulled her to the window, urged her to put her hand on it. The glass, despite the cool weather outside, felt warm.
She lingered there for a moment, hoping to see something on the other side, before turning to head up to her room and change. She was running late.
4.
Laudna hadn’t been in Gelvaan for long before they decided she wasn’t welcome. All she’d wanted to do was spend what little coin she had on a few necessities, and then she’d be set in her little cabin on the outskirts out of everyone’s hair. But the shopkeeper was more interested in her body than in her coin, and not in a good way.
“What the hell are you supposed to be?” he said. “You some fuckin’ ghoul or something? You look like my grandmother. She’s been six feet under for twelve years.”
“I—I just want some eggs and flour,” Laudna said. She took a step back, but one of the patrons had snuck up behind her.
“What you got in there?” the strange man said in her ear as he reached around for her basket. She tried to pull it away, but he knocked it to the floor and its contents, an armful of flowers she’d picked on the way over, spilled out. “Right,” he said. “A witch. Going to brew some poisons, I bet.”
“No,” Laudna said. A woman who had been watching the encounter from the other side of the store gripped her child’s hand and hurried him out of the shop. The two men were big, strong farm people, and they easily cornered Laudna’s thin, frail form into the wall. “I don’t want any trouble,” she said. “Please. I’ll leave town.”
She knew it wouldn’t work. It never does. She braced herself for the beating these men would give her, wondering if it would actually kill her this time, but neither of them had the chance to land a blow on her.
They both cried out at once, their hair sticking up at odd angles. One of them fell, and the other doubled over in pain.
“What the fuck,” the conscious man said, glaring at Laudna, “did you just do to us?”
“She didn’t do anything,” said a voice behind them, and Laudna froze. Not a voice. The voice. It had been so long since she’d heard it. The one who had kept her company as a child, the one who had kept her from trusting Andy, the one who tried…oh, Gods, it had tried to save her, and she hadn’t listened. This wouldn’t be happening right now if she had listened.
The man turned, and Laudna could finally see who had spoken. A young woman with long lavender hair and purple sparks on her outstretched fingers stood in the center of the aisle. She looked like a farm person, too, with her tanned skin and strong frame. The lightning running up her arms was unusual, though. All Laudna could do was watch, awestruck.
“Imogen? The fuck is wrong with you?”
The woman—Imogen—stood her ground. (Imogen. Of course it was Imogen. Laudna should have remembered.)
“Just leave her alone, Wetherby. She didn’t do anything to you.”
Wetherby growled and straightened up as the other man came to. “Get out,” he said. “Take your witch with you. You ain’t welcome here anymore.”
Imogen pushed past the men to grab Laudna’s hand and pulled her out of the store.
“I’m sorry,” Laudna said. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. I just—”
“Hush,” Imogen said as she looked Laudna over. She…wasn’t afraid to touch her. Didn’t even hesitate. That was new. “Are you all right?”
There it was. There was that gentle tone Laudna was used to hearing. That sweet voice worrying over her as if they were old friends.
Laudna finally managed a nod. “Thanks to you,” she said.
“Wetherby’s a troll,” Imogen said, “and Barric’s no better. I’m sorry you had to deal with them.”
“Oh, I’m quite used to it,” Laudna said. She couldn’t stop staring at Imogen. She looked human, but she certainly didn’t look over fifty years old. So, what was she? How had she been in Laudna’s head so long ago, in a literal other lifetime?
“You can come back to my place if you need some rest or some food,” Imogen said. “We…we’d probably have to sneak you around my father, but it wouldn’t be hard. I’m Imogen, by the way. What’s your name?”
“You don’t know?”
It was a silly thing to say in retrospect, but Laudna had expected her name to fall from Imogen’s lips just as easily as it had before in her head. Instead, Imogen just frowned.
“Sorry,” she said. “I—I didn’t listen long enough to actually hear anything. You just sounded different from other people. It’s how I found you. Or…” Imogen’s cheeks turned red. “Have we met? I feel like I would remember you, but—”
“No, no,” Laudna said. Imogen seemed to be growing anxious now, and Laudna couldn’t understand what she was talking about, but she didn’t have to. “I’m just not thinking straight,” she lied. “Laudna. My name is Laudna.” Never mind that she had chosen this name from the one Imogen had called her so long ago. It didn’t matter now.
“Laudna,” Imogen repeated. “That’s pretty. Where are you from?”
The more they spoke, the more apparent it became that Imogen had never talked to her before, not in her head nor anywhere else. It was strange, but that was fine. They were both strange girls, and strange things seemed to happen to them more than others. Maybe one day Laudna would find out what caused this glitch in her memories, but for now, she would just enjoy her new friend: her new home. She was home now, just as Imogen had always said.