Betrayed, Evelyn attempted to flee again, but she was caught and sold into slavery. The next months of her life were filled with suffering she couldn't have imagined. Her first owner was a sadist man who delighted in tormenting his beautiful captives. She endured countless days of abuse, the man's cruelty stripping her of the beauty she had once been so known for. Her hair cut short, her body covered in gruesome wounds, and her spirit slowly shattered.
When her captor grew tired of her, he sold her to another—a noblewoman who wanted Evelyn to replace the daughter she'd lost. But the women's affection was conditional; Evelyn was expected to become a mirror imagine of the dead girl, copying her every habit, and expression, and preference. Each time Evelyn failed to "perform" the role perfectly, she was punished harshly. The endless cycle of suffering continued as she was sold and resold, her price dropping with each transaction until she became a mere kitchen drudge at a seedy inn, with no payment and punishment for any mistake.
In a final act of desperation, Evelyn escaped, only to collapse in an alleyway, bartered and starving. The pain was unbearable, yet she clung to a stubborn desire for survival. Her hand reaching out toward a distant light that shone beyond the shadows. But before darkness took her, she saw a figure standing above her, draped in the white robes of a priest. Gently, he lifted her into his arms, carrying her to safety.
When Evelyn opened her eyes, she was in a small, quiet room in a temple. The man who had found her, a high priest of the temple, stood by her side, compassion in his eyes as he assured her that she was safe. Over the next few weeks, Evelyn was nursed back to health by the temple healers. She grew stronger physically, and in time, her appearance began to restore itself, the scars slowly fading thanks to the temple's sacred healing rituals.
For Evelyn, the temple felt like a sanctuary, a place where no one judged her or expected anything of her. Gradually, she embraced the simplicity of her new life. She found a quiet joy in tending the gardens, sweeping the courtyards, and offering her thanks at the temple altars.
As she let go of the remnants of her past, Evelyn began to feel the burden of her appearance lift. No longer was she under the gaze of men who wanted to possess her or women who envied her; here, she could live without fear, surrounded by quiet and simplicity. She began to wear the simple, modest robes of an acolyte, alowing her to fade into the background, unrecognizable as the duke's daughter who had once been a prized concubine.
As time passed, Evelyn became an integral part of the temple's daily life, helping the priests and priestesses care for the wounded and destitute who came seeking solace. Her empathy, born from her own suffering, allowed her to offer comfort in ways she hadn't expected. Her reputation spread quietly, and people began to speak of the kind, beautiful priestess who carried a quiet strength within her.
One evening, the high priest who had rescued her joined her in the temple gardens. After a moment of silence, he asked, "What will you do once you've fully recovered, Evelyn? Have you thought about it?"
She looked out at the garden, the vibrant colors softened in the dimming light. "I don't know," she admitted. "I've spent so long trying to escape… maybe this is where I'm supposed to be."
The high priest nodded, his expression understanding. "You could stay here, dedicate yourself fully as a priestess," he suggested. "Perhaps it was fate that brought you to us."
For the first time, Evelyn felt a sense of purpose within her reach—one that didn't depend on anyone's power or approval. She turned to him, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered. "For everything."
From that day forward, Evelyn embraced her new life, taking on the duties of a priestess with a renewed heart.
She was no longer a concubine, a noble daughter, or a captive. Here, she was simply herself, "Sister Evelyn," a woman who had endured immense suffering and now,
she had found solace.