Chapter 2

The journey to The Hollows was long and silent.

Rory sat in the back of a plain car, guarded, her mind numb.

Maine was cold, even in late spring. The trees grew denser, the houses farther apart, until there were no houses at all, just dirt tracks.

The car finally stopped at a crude wooden gate. Beyond it lay a collection of rundown shacks and a larger, grim-looking central building. This was The Hollows.

Smoke curled from a few chimneys, the only sign of life.

A tall, gaunt man with hard eyes and a tangled grey beard emerged from the central building. This was The Elder.

Sam' s men handed him a sealed envelope – the directive, altered by Claire to demand extreme severity.

The Elder read it, a cruel smile touching his lips. He looked Rory up and down, like she was a piece of livestock.

"So, the Dubois family sends us another one to break," he said, his voice raspy. "We have our ways here."

Her guards left without a word.

Rory stood alone, facing The Elder. The air was heavy with the smell of woodsmoke and something else, something rotten.

"You' ll learn respect here, girl," The Elder said, grabbing her arm. His grip was like iron. "Your fancy name means nothing."

He dragged her towards one of the shacks. It was small, dark, and filthy. A thin straw pallet lay in one corner.

"This is your home now," he sneered. "You' ll work from sunup to sundown. And you' ll obey. Every word."

The first days were a blur of hard labor.

Chopping wood, hauling water, mucking out animal pens. Her hands, once soft, became raw and blistered.

The food was scarce – thin soup, stale bread. Hunger became a constant companion.

The other commune members, men and women with dull, beaten-down eyes, watched her with a mixture of suspicion and apathy. They offered no comfort, no kindness.

They were all broken, just in different stages.

The Elder watched her constantly. He seemed to enjoy her suffering, her fumbling attempts to complete tasks she' d never done before.

One evening, when she collapsed from exhaustion, he stood over her.

"Not so high and mighty now, are you?" he said, prodding her with his boot. "Your family wanted you to learn. We are excellent teachers."

He forced her to repeat phrases.

"I am nothing."

"I will obey."

"I deserve this."

If she hesitated, or her voice wasn' t submissive enough, a slap or a kick would follow.

The nights were the worst.

Alone in the dark shack, the cold seeping through the thin walls, fear was her only blanket.

She thought of her locket, the Aegis, meant to protect. It was gone. Her family' s "inner fortitude" felt like a cruel joke.

Where was it now, when she needed it most?

She cried, silently at first, then with ragged, hopeless sobs.

No one came. No one cared.

The systematic dismantling of Aurora Dubois had begun.