Since I had memory the same nightmare haunted my sleep. Every single night with no exception. 

A woman who runs along this trail, her footsteps muted by the soft carpet of fallen leaves and damp earth beneath her. And I, I just stand there in the middle watching her like I am a spectator of an opera.

She moves with determination, her breath is steady but deep.

Her figure is strong and graceful, a roudness rises gently beneath her dress. Her belly, prominent and full, moves with her strides. Despite the visible strain, her posture is upright, her arms moving rhythmically to her body, fists clenched, veins faintly visible beneath the sun-kissed skin of her forearms.

Strands of hair -damp with sweat- escape from her braided hair, clinging to her temples and the nape of her neck.

And then I hear it- a voice. A whisper. 

Run.

And I try to move, to run but my legs are anchored to the spot, a strange heaviness settling in them despite no apparent physical problem. It's as if they're immersed in thick mud, or held down by an invisible force that refuses to release its grip.

And every time, without fail, the nightmare always ends here. Just as I am more determined to move. More determined to help that woman escape from whatever she's running from. But I wake up my heart racing, gasping for air, as though I've just escaped something that was about to overtake me. 

I sat up, shaking off the traces of the nightmare, though I could still feel it in my bones like I was freezing. Around me, the other girls from the orphanage slept, curled under the blankets. None of them stirred. None of them ever did. The nightmare belonged to me alone.

I swing my legs over the edge of the need, my feet meeting the cold floor. Today was the day. the day I have always dreamed of. The day of the knights' admission test.

I look at the clothes I prepared the night before. A humble white long-sleeved shirt and my black pants. Something that was required at the Knights' admission. Even if you failed. My fingers were trembling slightly, but I ignored it. I was used to trembling. Fear was as familiar to me as breathing. But I wouldn't let it win. I can't.

Strapping my worn boots, I reached under my pillow and pulled out the small, curved dagger hidden there. It wasn't part of the test, but I never went anywhere without it. Not because I thought it could save me, but because holding it made me feel safe

Downstairs, the orphanage was silent, the morning light struggling to push through the dirty windows. I passed the faded wallpaper that at places hung ripped in the hall- a reminder from a time when this building might have been something more than a graveyard to forgotten children.

At the door, I hesitated, hand on the iron doorknob, the dream still clinging to my mind like a shadow in the corner of my eyes.

Run.

I shook my head and stepped outside. The Kingdom of Nyxmoor didn't wait for lost girls to find themselves. And today, I would prove that I wasn't lost.