"Psst," – the blonde hissed behind me. "I swear, if I had known you'd turn into Sleeping Beauty the moment you crossed that gate, I wouldn't have brought you here." – she whispered.
"I wanted to come, it's no big deal," – I tried to smile.
"Oh, but it is, and a huge one at that." – she grimaced.
"What do you mean?" – I looked at her in confusion.
"This woman, the one playing hostess for us, is a good friend of my mother's. So it's 100% over for us."
As we walked behind the large group, my legs nearly froze with fear, but I forced myself to keep moving.
"Then I have no chance of explaining that the Swiss school was a lie?"
"Oh, honey, that's the least of our problems right now." – she gave me a look. "The real problem is my mother. She wasn't exactly supposed to bring you into our world. And if it comes out—because it will—that you even received education on our laws and systems, then first, she'll be in deep trouble. Then me, for being so irresponsible." – she rolled her eyes. "And then you, for lying."
Before I could respond, the wind suddenly rushed through my hair. The long corridor had ended.
I found myself in the middle of an unbelievable clearing. The grass was lush green, and daffodils covered the land. In front of me stood a medium-sized building, elegant yet welcoming. Its architecture had a distinctly Italian feel, with warm yet muted pinkish tones. It was adorned with flowers, archways, and grand terraces. Beyond it, I could see peaks rising toward the sky.
Just as my gaze was getting lost in the breathtaking scenery, my friend nudged me, signaling to turn around. That's when the real magic struck.
A full-fledged metropolis loomed in the distance. The mountain peaks seemed like tiny pillars compared to the towering structures. The clouds looked more like decorative carpets than formations in the sky. The entire cityscape was indescribably modern, yet elegant, refined, and still held a traditional, reserved essence.
But my wonder didn't last long. One of the dark-clad figures gently indicated that it was time to turn back and enter the building. At that moment, most of our escorting group halted outside. With swift, synchronized movements, they turned to face the departing direction but remained motionless.
Inside, we were ushered into a vast room, and without a word, the door was shut behind us.
Peering through the window, I saw the kind woman step outside, and at that moment, the once-still figures moved as one, following her.
Turning back from the window, I noticed the blonde girl throwing herself onto one of the beds with a frustrated sigh after peeking through the keyhole.
"Of course there are at least four guys stationed outside the door!" – she grumbled. "We're not damn criminals!"
Silence gripped me. The weight of guilt pressed heavily on my chest. I had unknowingly dragged us into this mess and put everyone in danger. Not only would I never become a guardian, but they would have to escort me out like some troublemaker.
"Hey," – I felt the bed sink slightly as she sat beside me. "Don't mope, Red Riding Hood. At least you look stylish while doing it." – she tried to cheer me up.
"Listen, El," – I turned to her hopefully, but before I could continue, the door burst open.
A short woman appeared, urging us forward.
"Come on, girls, hop-hop-hop! The table is set, and the rulers have arrived!"
With that, she spun around and gestured for us to follow.
"Rulers?" – I asked, bewildered.
"They respect our kind here. That's what they call us—those who aren't like us but live among us." – the blonde clarified. "More specifically, our mothers."
"That was fast," – I swallowed hard.
"They were notified the moment you passed out." – she gulped and gave me a nervous smile.
We arrived in another room. A long table was set, already occupied by people whose eyes I wasn't eager to meet today. The room was filled with dark-clad figures, but no one else.
Once we were led in like prisoners, we took our seats and began eating in stiff, uncomfortable silence.
Just as the quiet became more suffocating than soothing, Elis's mother, Clara, spoke.
"This meal is called the meal of repentance," – she addressed me more than her daughter, who likely already knew this. "It means that whoever accepts it acknowledges their mistake and, through their presence, seeks the forgiveness of those affected."
Her voice was surprisingly calm and composed. Then again, that was Clara—always a strong yet fair woman.