The next several days passed in a blur of new experiences for Maria. Each night, she met with Father Gabriel in the library, learning about ideas like "justice" and "compassion," words that made the world seem bigger and more complicated than she had ever imagined. And each day, she explored more of the strange and wonderful pce she found herself in.
On the third morning after her first meeting with Father Gabriel, Maria sat at the breakfast table staring at her pte with confusion.
"What is this?" she asked Helena, who had taken to sitting with her during meals.
"That's an omelet," Helena expined. "Eggs cooked with cheese and vegetables inside."
Maria poked at it with her fork. In her five days at Father Gabriel's estate, she had tried more new foods than in her entire life at Blood Farm #17. Bread. Fruits. Vegetables. Meats that weren't processed into gray paste. Each new food had a name she tried to remember, a taste she tried to describe to herself.
She took a small bite of the omelet and her eyes widened. "It's good," she said, still surprised every time food tasted like something other than the bnd nutrition paste from the blood farm.
"I thought you might like it," Helena said with a smile. "Sarah mentioned you enjoyed the scrambled eggs yesterday."
After breakfast, Maria walked through the gardens, trying to practice the names of things she had learned. She stopped by a bush covered in small red fruits.
"Strawberries," she said aloud, remembering what the gardener had called them. Yesterday, she had tried one for the first time. The sweet-sour burst of fvor had made her gasp.
She moved to the next pnt. "Roses," she recited. Not for eating, Helena had expined when Maria had asked. Just for looking and smelling. The idea of growing pnts just because they were beautiful was still strange to Maria.
"Good morning," Sarah called, approaching with her gardening tools. Since their first meeting, Sarah had become something like a friend to Maria—the first friend she'd ever had who wasn't a blood bag at Farm #17.
"Good morning," Maria replied, the greeting still feeling formal and strange on her tongue. At the blood farm, no one wished each other good morning. Days were not good.
"Want to help me today?" Sarah asked, holding out an extra pair of gloves.
Maria nodded, taking the gloves. For the past two days, she had helped Sarah in the gardens, learning the names of pnts and tools. Trowel. Pruners. Watering can. So many words to remember.
As they worked, Maria repeated the newest words Father Gabriel had taught her the night before.
"Justice," she said, carefully digging around a pnt as Sarah had shown her. "Fairness."
"What's that?" Sarah asked.
"Words Father Gabriel is teaching me," Maria expined. "Justice means everyone gets what they should get. Fairness means treating people the same way."
Sarah nodded. "He taught me words too, when I first came. Words I'd never heard at the blood farm."
"Did he teach you about the light?" Maria asked eagerly.
A strange look crossed Sarah's face. "In his way, yes. But it was different from what I expected."
Before Maria could ask what she meant, Helena approached, carrying a basket.
"I thought you might like to try these," she said, showing Maria several round, red fruits. "These are apples. Different from the ones you tried yesterday."
Each day brought new tastes. Sweet honey. Bitter coffee. Salty cheese. Sour lemons that made her face pucker until Sarah ughed. So many fvors that didn't exist in the blood farm's nutrition paste.
That evening, in her room before her meeting with Father Gabriel, Maria tried to list all the new words she had learned. She counted on her fingers, whispering each one.
"Bed. Chair. Table. Book. Window. Garden. Apple. Bread. Honey. Justice. Choice. Reason. Mercy. Truth."
The list went on and on, far more than her fingers could count. Some words were for things she could touch—fork, pte, bnket. Others were for things she couldn't—ideas like fairness, knowledge, compassion.
And there were the strange words that seemed to mean different things to different people. When Maria said "demons," Father Gabriel would say "those transformed." When she said "blood bags," Helena would gently say "people" or "residents." When she talked about "processing," Sarah would look away and change the subject.
It was confusing, this new world with its many words and strange ideas. Sometimes Maria found herself missing the simple certainty of the blood farm, where everything made sense even if everything hurt. Here, nothing hurt, but nothing made sense either.
Each night, Father Gabriel patiently expined new concepts, building a foundation of ideas Maria had never considered. Each day, Helena and Sarah showed her the estate, teaching her words for everyday things blood bags never had.
And throughout it all, one thought kept returning: why did Father Gabriel, a man who served the light, live among demons? Why did demons let him save people from blood farms? Why did he only appear after the sun set?
These questions circled in Maria's mind as she prepared for another evening in the library. Tonight would be their fifth meeting. Father Gabriel had promised to begin teaching her about what he called "different traditions of light" once she understood enough basic ideas.
Maria touched the small wooden cross she kept hidden under her new clothes. Thomas had carved it for her years ago at the blood farm, and it was one of the few things she still had from her old life.
"Help me understand," she whispered to it. "Help me learn the truth."
When Helena knocked on her door to escort her to the library, Maria was ready. Her mind was full of questions and new words, but her heart still held The Promise. Whatever strange things she learned in this pce, she wouldn't forget the blood bags still suffering at Farm #17. She wouldn't forget that the light would return when enough blood was paid.
With this conviction firm in her mind, Maria followed Helena through the now-familiar corridors toward another night of learning with the mysterious Father Gabriel, who served the light yet lived in darkness.
