I follow Serena's mane of red hair into the bathroom attached to the room I woke up in. She strides toward the massive clawfoot tub nestled in an alcove and twists the hot water wheel. I swear I hear the water coming up the pipes before it even spills into the basin.

"Are you cold?" she asks, her head tilting slightly. 

"Physically, yes, but I'm not shivering," I reply, still unsure how to explain the odd sensation deep in my bones.

She nods without comment and begins tossing dried flowers and strange liquids from glass bottles into the water. "You'll be sore for a few days while your muscles adjust," she says, swirling her hand through the water to mix the contents. "The bath will help ease the pain."

Her eyes flit toward me as the flowers whirl, and the smirk she reveals confuses me.

Once the basin is full, Serena steps back and gestures for me to climb in.

"I'll leave you to it," she says, her tone softening. "Kalma will be up shortly." With a friendly wink, she slides around me and crosses toward the door. She pauses at the threshold, adding, "You're safe here. Enjoy the bath."

She smiles one last time before disappearing, her footsteps receding as she crosses into the hallway.

Steam rises above the water, curling and twisting in the air, beckoning me closer. I decide to do as I'm told. Slipping out of the nightgown, I drop the linen onto the floor, noticing only then that there's no mirror above the vanity, no reflection to meet my eyes.

I dip my foot into the warm water. The heat draws me in, and though I can't place the scents Serena mixed, I find them soothing and delicate. The dark bathroom feels like it was designed to keep secrets. The black tiling, the marble vanity of black and gold—it all feels deliberate, as though the darkness here was meant to swallow me whole.

I submerge my head under the water, and immediately, the silence is shattered by muffled conversations—dozens of them. Laughter, whispering, shouting. The words blend together into a chaotic symphony, but I catch snippets.

Overwhelmed, I push myself up, and the noise recedes as if the water itself is guarding me from the madness beyond. I'm still alone in the bathroom, but the weight of presence in the house presses down on me.

I slide back down, sinking deeper into the water. This time, I listen closely, straining to separate the voices. Most are women, their words muffled but distinguishable. There's one man, though -his voice sharp and curt, speaking quickly from somewhere below. I pick out Lottie, her accent clear as she laughs with a group of women, but I can't make out the words, just the tones.

I try to catch a clue, any fragment that would help me understand who's here with me, but everything remains just out of reach. The voices swirl around me, distant, elusive yet muffled enough to keep me guessing.

I realize I've been submerged for several minutes. My lungs don't burn, and my mouth doesn't scream for air. I don't feel the frantic pulse of my heart, begging me to surface. I slide up to the top of the basin, moving away from the voices, and wipe the water from my face, my skin cold and damp.

I place my pale hand over my chest, expecting to feel the steady beat of my heart, the reassuring rhythm. But when nothing stirs beneath my fingers, panic tightens in my chest. The silence is deafening. Just as I tilt forward, ready to investigate, the door bursts open with a rush of air.  A woman who I assume is Kalma steps in.

She glides toward me with such grace it seems she's floating. Her skin is the color of caramel, smooth and warm, and her black eyes match the deep ink of her hair. The only color on her is the red lipstick staining her full lips.

She stands there, staring at me as though she's taking in every detail, and I instinctively cover my chest with my arms.

"No need for modesty, dear. I'm the one who dressed you," she says, her voice like velvet, smooth and intoxicating.

"You know who I am?" I ask, my voice hoarse. Her wide skirt sways around her feet as she steps closer, the fluidity of her movements almost hypnotic. "Are you Kalma?"

She nods, her dark gown swaying with the movement, a soft shimmer of silk. As she stands next to the basin, I feel an undeniable pull toward her, something deep inside me that yearns to be closer, to touch her, to listen. Her presence is magnetic, drawing me in with each word, each breath.

"I'm guessing you have questions," she purrs, and unexpectedly, she dips her hand into the water. Her fingers swirl through the surface, sending the petals drifting in her wake.

"You'll want to pick a scent. Something that defines you," she continues, her gaze fixed on me, calm and steady. "It will help us track you."

"A scent?" I ask, my mind still reeling, eyes darting from the petals in the water to her face, trying to understand. "Track me? How about a name?"

"Ah, a name. Yes, I suppose you'd prefer to know more about your past than your present," Kalma replies with a tilt of her head, her voice still velvety but laced with something I can't quite place.

I shake my head, my patience wearing thin. "I was told you could shed some light on my situation. Serena and Lottie were a bit... vague," I snap, frustration rising in my chest.

Kalma's smile widens, but there's no warmth in it. "Your situation is... difficult to comprehend. It's best if you're eased into it." The smirk on her lips tells me she's enjoying this. I am nothing to her but a game to be played. 

The growing sense of helplessness gnaws at me. The spell she had over me is slipping. In one swift motion, I force myself out of the water, pushing the need for answers to the forefront. I hop over the lip of the basin, water droplets splashing onto her gown.

Without even a glance of apology, I snatch a towel off the vanity, wrapping it around myself as I stride toward the bedroom. 

"If you're not going to give me answers about how I ended up here, then I'll go find someone who will." My voice is steady, though frustration makes the words sharper than I intend.

I reach the armoire in a few strides, the doors still wide open from earlier. I yank a plum dress from its hanger, barely sparing a glance at its fit. I have no idea what goes underneath. I shake my head in annoyance, I don't care where the britches are, I just need to be clothed. 

I step into the layers of lace and silk, the fabric soft against my skin. I shimmy the gown up and over my hips, the weight of it settling on my body as I pull the corset tightly against my chest. The ribbons on top are soft as I spin around to the oval mirror, intent on tying them tightly.

But as I catch my reflection, the gown slips from my hands, forgotten. My fingers fly to my face in horror. I take a step closer, trying to steady myself, my breath catching in my throat. I blink rapidly, as if willing my eyes to return to the pale blue-green they were before. But no matter how hard I try, the blood-red irises remain, staring back at me like two burning flames.

The shock is sharp and overwhelming, as though the mirror itself has betrayed me. I reach out, my hands trembling, and touch my reflection, as if somehow this will make it stop. It doesn't.

Kalma steps into the room, her presence like a shadow that stretches across the space. She watches me, hypnotized, her dark eyes never leaving my face.

"Don't worry, you haven't fed yet," she says. "Once you do, those will fade into your natural color."

Her words don't comfort me. If anything, they send a chill through my body. I blink again, harder this time, but the red remains- unwavering, mocking me.

I take a step back, my heart pounding in my chest, my mind racing for answers I can't find. My voice comes out in a whisper, raw with fear. "What the hell am I?"