Eliza woke to softness. The rough straw pallet she’d known all her life was gone, and she was laying on some other material entirely. Like sinking into a cloud, or floating on water. Maybe she was dead. Maybe she had crossed over and was drifting in heaven.
She lay very still and listened. No rooster’s crow or rattle of cart wheels on frozen mud. No smell of sweaty, dirty bodies.
Instead: clean air. A low, steady hum like distant thunder that would not cease. And beneath it, odder still… silence. A silence so complete it pressed against her ears like hands.
Where am I?
She forced herself to draw air slowly, the way her mother had taught her. Steady, steady, lest panic take hold. Darkness surrounded her, a flat darkness, as if the room itself had been dipped in ink. She turned her head and saw a thin line of pale light beneath what must be a door.
A door with no visible latch.
Eliza sat up slowly. The softness beneath her shifted with a faint rustling sound. Her hands found fabric impossibly smooth and cool, nothing like rough linen. She was dressed in something thin and short, barely reaching her knees. Immodest. Shameful.
Her heart began to pound. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and her bare feet found not packed earth or splintered wood, but something soft and yielding. It was like moss but drier.
“The Lord is my shepherd,” she whispered frantically, rocking slightly. “I shall not want, I shall not want…”
Eliza crossed the room with hands outstretched until her fingers found a wall. Smooth as river stones worn by centuries of water, she followed it until she reached the door. No latch, no handle she recognized. She pressed against it, pulled at the edges. Trapped. She was trapped in this odd room with no window and no way out.
The door opened and a figure appeared, silhouetted by harsh light from beyond. A girl. Small, perhaps twelve or thirteen, with loose blond hair falling past her shoulders. Loose and uncovered, and at night too.
“Lils?” the girl said, her voice thick with sleep. “How did it go? It’s like, five in the morning.”
Eliza stared. The girl’s speech was familiar in its sounds, but the words themselves sounded altogether too casual. And her manner, speaking so casually, with no deference at all.
“I...” Eliza’s throat was dry. “I know not where I am.”
The girl squinted at her. Something shifted in her expression and her eyes went wide.
“Prithee,” Eliza said, hating the tremor in her voice but unable to help it. “Am I being held captive here?"
The girl took a step back, one hand gripping the wall. “Okay, this isn’t funny, Lils. You’re freaking me out.”
“My name is Eliza Proctor, I do not know a Lils.” The girl stared at her for a long moment. Then, quietly, almost to herself: “Oh my god.”
Eliza took a small step forward. “I must know where I am. Last I remember, I was running through the woods near the village.”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
The memory was already becoming hazy, dreamlike. The shouting. The pounding of hooves. A face in the woods, a face so like her own. Who was that? And a sensation of falling, of being pulled through something cold and vast, like being dragged suddenly beneath a spring-fed creek.
Lucy was eyeing her intensely. “That’s interesting and all, and I’m sorry you went through all that. But I have a question,” she said. “Where the hell is my sister!?”
Once both Lucy and Eliza had come to terms as best they could with what was happening and calmed down, Lucy did her best to assure Eliza that they would reverse the spell and get her back home. They had no other choice, really.
Lucy took a long breath out. “Look, I know this is probably super confusing and weird. Lils told me everything, she’s been researching you for months. She’s kind of obsessed. But I don’t remember all the details, so you’ll have to help me out.”
“Lils.” The name felt strange in Eliza’s mouth. “Who is she?”
“My sister. Lilith,” Lucy gestured vaguely. “I thought she was just trying to contact you, but wow. Next level.”
“I don’t understand,” Eliza whispered. "I don't understand any of this." Her legs felt unsteady and she reached out to brace herself against the wall. That unnaturally smooth wall.
It had been over three hundred years, and everyone she knew was dead. Her mother, her father, the few friends who hadn’t turned against her. Her beloved cat, Mags. All of them dust and bones.
Eliza was about to ask more questions when a sharp sound rang from nearby, like a loud songbird.
“That’s just my phone alarm,” Lucy said, grabbing a glowing rectangle from her pocket. She touched it and the sound stopped. “It’s 5:15. Aunt Ivy’s gonna wake up for work in about an hour, and when she does...”
She looked at Eliza with rising panic. “How am I supposed to explain this? What am I supposed to even say? Oh hey Aunt Ivy, this isn’t Lils, this is Eliza. They look alike because—oh god..."
She moved to the wall and pressed something. Instantly, the room flooded with brilliant, harsh light. Eliza cried out, throwing her arm over her eyes.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking!” The light dimmed slightly… Lucy must have adjusted it somehow. The light came from the ceiling itself, emitting from a glass fixture that glowed. No flickering flame, no candle at all. In all her life, she had never seen anything like it, a light without fire or sun.
“How...” she breathed. “How is this possible?”
“Right, um, its called electricity,” Lucy said. “It’s like... energy that runs through wires in the walls. We use it for everything.” She gestured around the room. “It hasn’t been invented yet where you’re from. Won’t be for, like, a while at least. I don’t know, I’ll have to look it up.”
For the first time, Eliza could truly take in everything. The room was full of incomprehensible objects; a rectangular black box sat on a desk, shelves upon shelves that held books with glossy covers and perfect binding, more books than Eliza had seen in her entire life. Clothes spilled from a wooden cabinet— strange garments in rich colors.
“What is this place,” Eliza marveled. "Your family must be nobility."
Lucy looked startled. “Huh? No, we’re like... middle class, I think? Pretty normal.”
Eliza gestured at the abundance surrounding them, unsure of how to fully express what she was seeing.
“Oh. Oh." Understanding dawned on Lucy’s face. “Yeah, everything is super different now. We’re not rich though, Aunt Ivy works really hard to keep this house. But compared to 1692… yeah.” She trailed off.
A sound from downstairs made them both freeze. Footsteps. Heavy, adult footsteps. “Luce, Lils?” A woman’s voice called up from the bottom of the stairs. “Is everything alright?”
Lucy shot Eliza a panicked look, then called back, “Everything’s fine! We just...couldn’t sleep. I’m going back to my room!”
“That’s Aunt Ivy,” Lucy whispered urgently. “She’s up early. Okay, you need to be Lils. Don’t mention 1692 or witchcraft or anything. And no thee, thou nonsense! Can you do that for two minutes?”
Eliza’s heart hammered. “But I am not thy sister.”
“I know, I know, just... be grumpy and don't talk much, she’s not a morning person.” Lucy stopped herself, listening. The footsteps were on the stairs now, coming closer. “Aunt Ivy is coming up! Please try, okay?”
Eliza nodded, unsure of what she was even agreeing to do.
The door cracked open and an older woman stood in the doorway, wrapped in a thick robe the color of burgundy. It was more fabric than any person in Eliza’s village could have afforded, yet this woman wore it for slumber. She was perhaps sixty years of age, with dark hair streaked with silver, pulled back from her face. Her eyes were currently narrowed.
“Why are you both awake right now?” Her gaze shifted to Eliza, and her expression shifted from concern to confusion. “Lilith?” she said, blinking. “Are you alright?”