Maria knelt in the center of the cushioned circle, wooden cross csped between her palms. Outside the window, the full moon had just cleared the treetops, its silver light streaming into the room. She could already feel the first waves of pain beginning at the base of her spine.

  "Light give me strength to bear this pain," she whispered, her voice steady despite the growing discomfort. "Light help me endure what I must. Light keep my soul bright until morning."

  Maria carefully pced her wooden cross on a small shelf above the cushions where it would remain safe.

  With practiced movements, she arranged the bnkets around herself. The soft fabrics were nothing like the thin, tattered covering she'd had before, but the ritual helped steady her mind as the curse took stronger hold.

  "Seven steps to prepare," she whispered to herself. "Cross to safety. Bnkets around. Water near." She gnced at the small fountain bubbling peacefully in the corner. "Prayer of protection. Prayer for others. Accept the pain. Remember the Light."

  A sharp spasm bent her double, stealing her breath. The curse was coming faster than usual. Perhaps because of the strange pce, or the comfort that felt so undeserved. Maria curled into herself as heat flooded her body, making her skin feel too tight.

  "I accept this punishment," she gasped between waves of pain. "I accept—"

  The words dissolved into a cry as bones began to shift beneath her skin. The agony was familiar but never easier to bear. Maria's vision blurred, the room around her becoming a smear of color and light. Her st conscious thought was gratitude that no one would hear her screams behind these thick walls.

  Then darkness took her, as it always did.

  Light filtering through the window woke Maria the next morning. For a moment, she y still with her eyes closed, taking inventory of the familiar aches in her body. The worst of the curse had passed, leaving behind the usual soreness and bone-deep exhaustion.

  Something soft cushioned her cheek. Maria's eyes fluttered open in confusion, expecting to see the hard floor of a storage closet or the cold stone of a punishment cell. Instead, she found herself curled comfortably on plush cushions, a warm bnket draped over her body.

  She sat up slowly, wincing at the pull of strained muscles. The chamber looked exactly as it had the night before—nothing broken, nothing disturbed. Even her wooden cross remained safely on the shelf where she'd pced it.

  Maria looked down at herself with growing amazement. She wore the same simple nightdress she'd had on when the curse began. Usually, she awoke with her clothes torn and dirty, sometimes even shredded beyond repair. But now, though the fabric was rumpled, it remained intact.

  A small table near the cushion circle held items that hadn't been there the night before—a pitcher of fresh water, a clean gss, soft bread, and fruit. Beside them y a folded paper with a drawing of a sun, which Maria recognized as the Light's symbol.

  Maria touched the paper curiously but didn't open it. She couldn't read, and the sight of written words only reminded her of that limitation. Still, the care shown by leaving food and water touched something deep within her.

  She poured water with trembling hands, the cool liquid soothing her parched throat. The bread tasted impossibly good after a night of transformation. Maria ate slowly, savoring each bite while trying to make sense of her surroundings.

  The curse had never been like this before. She remembered the pain—that never changed—but the after was entirely different. No bruises from thrashing against hard surfaces. No cuts or scrapes. No dirt ground into her skin. Just the familiar muscle soreness and bone-deep weariness.

  Had the curse changed? Or was it the room that had made the difference?

  Moving cautiously, she rearranged the cushions into a more comfortable position and y back down, pulling the bnket over her aching body. Just a little rest, she told herself. Just a little time to recover.

  She was asleep again almost instantly.

  The second time Maria woke, the sun had moved halfway across the sky. She sat up with a gasp, armed at having slept so long. But her body felt markedly better, the worst of the pain faded to a dull ache.

  A soft knock sounded at the door.

  "Miss Maria?" Sarah's voice called. "Are you awake? There's no hurry, but Father Gabriel asked me to check if you need anything."

  Maria wrapped the bnket around her shoulders and moved to the door. "I'm awake," she called back. "I'm sorry for sleeping so long."

  "Please don't apologize," Sarah replied through the door. "Father Gabriel said you should rest as long as you need. Would you like me to bring fresh clothes? Or would you prefer to return to your room first?"

  The consideration kept catching Maria off guard. She wasn't used to having choices or being asked for preferences.

  "Fresh clothes would be nice," she said hesitantly. "If it's not too much trouble."

  "No trouble at all," Sarah assured her. "I'll be back shortly."

  Left alone again, Maria explored the chamber more thoroughly than she had the night before. Sunlight revealed details she hadn't noticed—small decorative stones pced around the fountain, tiny carved wooden animals on the shelves, a pattern woven into the carpet that looked like forest pnts.

  When Sarah returned with clean clothes, Maria changed quickly and gathered her few belongings. The wooden cross went back around her neck where it belonged.

  "How do you feel?" Sarah asked as they walked slowly back to Maria's room.

  "Better," Maria admitted. "Much better than... usual."

  Sarah smiled warmly. "Father Gabriel will be pleased to hear that. He was quite concerned about your comfort."

  "He left food and water for me," Maria said, still sounding slightly bewildered by the kindness.

  "Yes," Sarah nodded. "He came himself very early this morning to arrange everything. He wanted to make sure you had what you needed when you woke."

  Maria stopped walking, genuinely stunned. "Father Gabriel himself? Not just a servant?"

  "Yes," Sarah confirmed. "He insisted on seeing to it personally."

  Maria resumed walking, trying to understand this new information. A priest—a true servant of the Light—had personally tended to her needs after the curse. Had considered her comfort important enough to see to himself.

  It didn't fit with anything she'd been taught about punishment and suffering being the path to redemption. Yet Father Gabriel was clearly a man of faith. Perhaps there were aspects of the Light's teachings she didn't yet understand.

  By the time they reached her room, Maria had reached a decision. She would speak with Father Gabriel directly. She would thank him for his kindness.