Awakened by Spirits: PROLOGUE
“If only I could go back to when I was six knowing what I know now…” Lane told herself on her way to the orphanage where she had lived since she was three. She kicked a rock, her gaze trailing its trajectory. “I would have done things differently.”
The day her life began going downhill was engraved in her mind as if it had happened yesterday. She remembered it and the years that followed all too well.
She’d been six years old when it all started.
It was the middle of a summer night. She woke up to go to the bathroom, and on her way, three weirdly shaped creatures entered the orphanage through a window. They were about the length of her small arm but twice as thick and without limbs. Their black, slimy skin that left no trail behind, slithered towards her faster than she expected.
Although scared, her legs somehow obeyed her. With her heart pounding against her ribs, she took off running, only to find herself on the floor the moment she rounded the corner. Miss Deleon, the orphanage’s headmistress, had come to check on the commotion, and Lane had slammed against her.
The impact knocked the air from her lungs. Panic crept in as she tried to speak but couldn’t. Brushing her brown hair out of her eyes, her gaze darted from wall to wall, searching for the three creatures. The corridor, however, was empty save for Miss Deleon and herself.
“Where? Where are they? The snakes. They were coming for me. They were…”
“Calm down, dear. It’s dark, and you’re tired. It was probably nothing. What are you doing up anyway?”
“I-I was going to the bathroom,” she responded, eyes constantly scanning each corner of the corridor.
“Come.” Miss Deleon extended a hand to help her stand, escorting Lane to her bed and waited until she fell asleep again.
The following day, seeing the creatures at the forest’s edge, Lane showed them to the other kids. She nicknamed them Shadow Crawlers since they had no limbs and disliked the sun. But, no matter how she described what she saw, the other kids didn’t seem to see what she did—even with the Shadow Crawlers in front of them, right there in the open.
As the day went by, she started to believe what Miss Deleon had told her. It was merely her imagination, though that did not ease her mind. She still wished to sleep with the lights on and felt as if she were constantly being watched. Her fear was real. In the large dormitory, she felt exposed and vulnerable, especially with the lights off.
The lack of sleep made her jumpy during the day. She barely ate, played, or spoke, and the headmistress quickly noticed. Four days after the first encounter with the Shadow Crawlers, Miss Deleon showed Lane a small, simple room on the third floor. The space was tight, with a ceiling just high enough for the headmistress to stand. A bed was snugly encased between the walls by the window. To the right of the entrance, a small mirror hung on the wall at face height. To the left, a little closet with three drawers. Her three shirts and spare pair of pants could fit in the first, leaving the others to store the dust that would accumulate with the years.
That was it, and she loved it. It was farther from Miss Deleon’s room, but here, Lane could leave the lights on whenever she pleased. Miss Deleon didn’t have to ask twice. When Lane stepped inside the room, a wave of calm washed over her. She would stay in the room as long as Miss Deleon allowed it. With only two entry points—the window and the door across each other—and one too high for anything to crawl in from, the room offered a sense of security far more comforting than the freedom to leave the lights on at night.
It was perfect. From then on, she slept soundly, never again in the dormitory with the other girls. The new room became her sanctuary, quickly becoming an unexpected bonus when the other kids distanced themselves from her and started calling her weird and a freak.
In that room, she didn’t have to hide or worry about side looks and whispers. She could be herself.
But outside, the whispers found her. And worse, she believed them. Being different in other ways than with the creatures made it all more convincing. She could run faster than boys three or four years older. She could pick up movements in a heartbeat. She could see better, especially at night. Weirdly better.
As the differences became more apparent over the years, the distance between her and the other kids grew. Her abilities were used against her to explain why they didn’t want to interact with her.
“It’s unfair to the other group if you play with us.”
“You always win. You can’t play.”
“It’s no fun with you here.”
Those were the reactions the first few times she asked to join them. When she persisted, hoping to get a chance to play and show them she could take it easy and let the other team win, they turned to more hurtful comments, and the older kids became aggressive.
They shoved her to the ground, punching her when she dared to stand up again. The small scar on her jawline left by a boy three years older reminded her to stay put until they left. If she weren’t driven by pride and stubbornness, the first time she was shoved would have also been the last. But she was. And so, she fell. Again and again. More times than she liked to admit before learning to stop coming near them. When she accepted the obvious and painful truth, they didn’t seem bothered. If she didn’t approach them, they didn’t either.
Being rejected so often hurt and made her life at the orphanage lonely. She still had Miss Deleon, but it wasn’t the same. The headmistress was closer to being a mother to her than a friend, being there since her arrival at the orphanage when she was three. She was the only one who kept treating her normally after the incident. Lane would have lost her mind long ago if it weren't for her.
And she almost did, if she was honest. It was a close call, but Miss Deleon’s presence and the fact she decided to find a place outside her room to play at age nine saved her from herself.
The idea came to her when sitting beside her bedroom window enjoying the morning sun. One of the older kids left the orphanage to go to the village. And that’s when it hit her.
The forest could be her playground. She loved being outside and would avoid others staring at her, coming too close, or starting a fight. Not to mention doing whatever she wanted without thinking about how it would come across.
It was perfect, except Miss Deleon didn’t allow children younger than fourteen to leave the premises.
Asking wouldn’t do it. Lane had heard many older kids try it before. Sneaking out was the only option, and the best time to do so was while everyone was eating. So, one day, she came into the canteen at lunch and told the headmistress she wasn’t feeling well. Without waiting for Miss Deleon to ask if she wanted soup in bed—an indulgence everyone was allowed when unwell—Lane turned around and left. In the corridor, she ran out of the orphanage, only slowing down when surrounded by trees.
Immediately, she felt at peace. A sigh of relief escaped her. She had broken the rules, but it was worth it if it meant she didn’t have to be locked in her room, day in and day out, with nothing to do.
She skipped gleefully, delighted with herself for taking the risk.
That day, she played with pebbles, pretending they were dolls. She had Papa Rock, Mama Rock, and Little Rock. Papa and Mama invited Little Rock’s three best friends to play with her, and they spent the whole day together doing fun things.
This fantasy made her happy. At least in her dreams, she could choose what happened.
“Let’s go home and have dinner,” she said in a low voice, pretending Papa Rock said it.
Gathering all the pebbles, she walked to a tree. The imaginary house was on one of the thicker branches, high and safe, just like her room at the orphanage. But the Rock family never got to their home. As she hoisted herself up, she heard some rumbling behind her.
Her heart was immediately on her throat. A Shadow Crawler jumped at her and bit her left arm, carving its teeth into her skin and anchoring itself. It had moved so fast she hadn’t had time to think or dodge the attack. She froze in place as the Shadow Crawler dug his teeth deeper into her skin.
It’s real.
When the adrenaline subsided and the pain kicked in, she ripped it off her arm. The creature wriggled in her hand, trying to escape, but Lane grabbed a rock, one she’d been playing with seconds ago, and smashed its head.
“Oh…” She had expected to see a splash of blood and hear a sound from the impact, but instead, the creature disintegrated into ashes as if it had never existed. “How am I going to explain this to Miss Deleon?” she muttered as she paced back to the orphanage with her right hand covering the wound.
“Where the hell have you been? I came to your room to check on you, and you were gone,” Miss Deleon yelled, clearly distressed, when Lane knocked on her bedroom door. The woman’s blue eyes shifted to Lane’s shoulder. “What happened to you? For crying out loud. I leave you alone for five seconds, and you hurt yourself. What did you do?”
“I…” Lane followed Miss Deleon into the kitchen and sat on one of the benches. “I… fell from a tree.”
“A tree?” Miss Deleon raised her eyebrows as she examined the wound. “If you don’t want to tell me, fine. Don’t. I’ll clean it and see how the wound heals. Until then, you’re grounded and forbidden to leave the orphanage.”
“What? No! Why?”
“Because those are the rules, and you know it.”
“That’s not fair. You know no one likes playing with me. What am I supposed to do? Rot in my room until I turn fourteen? That’s five years. It’s torture.”
“Make an effort with the other kids. They will warm up to you if you give them another chance.”
“Yeah, right. Like I haven’t tried. They’ll warm up to me when the snow starts melting in the winter.”
Without acknowledging her remark, Miss Deleon finished caring for the wound before letting her go her way. Each day after, Lane sat back on the bench, and Miss Deleon checked the wound, cleaned it, and changed the bandages. The headmistress tried making small talk every time, but Lane refused to speak.
After seven days, the wound was as good as closed. A big scar had taken over its place as proof the creatures weren’t a fabrication of her imagination. She wasn’t crazy.
They were real.
“You’re still not allowed to go outside,” Miss Deleon reminded her after the last check-up, throwing the used bandages in the trash. “I know you find it hard to believe, but I understand your point. I still think you could give the other kids a chance now you are all older, but that’s on you to decide.”
“Great, thanks for the pep talk,” Lane said, expressionless, as she walked away.
“I’m not done yet, Missy,” Miss Deleon snapped. Lane sighed and turned around. “And I would advise you to think before you act. I have tolerated enough the last few days because I know you don’t have it easy, but don’t push it. I’m not your friend.”
“Right, like everyone around here. Don’t worry, I know. Everyone has made that loud and clear.” Her eyes turned red.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. What I wanted to say was that you need to be more respectful while talking to me,” Miss Deleon corrected herself, her voice softer. “I’m here to help you. You know that, right? I care about you.”
The look on the headmistress’ face, as if Lane were broken or weak, made her chest tighten. “Can I go?” she managed to ask, her voice trembling, barely holding back her tears.
Miss Deleon straightened her back. “Almost. I have one more question. Is there anything you need? Anything at all I can help you with? Anything to entertain yourself with?”
“No,” Lane answered without thinking. “Can I go?”
“Sure.”
Without another word, Lane turned on her heels and left the kitchen. Once out of Miss Deleon’s sight, she sprinted to her room, slammed the door shut and buried her face into her pillow, letting her tears flow freely. No matter how well-intentioned, the headmistress’ words stung like salt on an open wound. And simultaneously, she had a point. She always did.
She needed to find something meaningful and fulfilling to fill her days with. But what? The thought of facing Miss Deleon before knowing the answer filled her with dread. Skipping dinner was the easiest way to buy herself extra time to think.
Being outside had been the best experience she’d had in years. Even with the possibility of being attacked by Shadow Crawlers, she’d been free to do whatever she wanted without dirty looks. She craved more of it, but persuading Miss Deleon to let her go outside with the prospect of returning every day with a new wound for her to care for wouldn’t do the trick. Her privileges would be revoked as fast as they were given.
“Can I talk to you?” Lane asked the following day after breakfast.
“Of course. Can you help me bring things to the kitchen while you do?”
Lane grabbed a pile of dirty glasses and followed Miss Deleon. “I’ve thought about what you said and want to train. I think it would help me get my mind off things.”
“I agree,” Miss Deleon said as they returned to the canteen.
“I also… Want to learn how to fight.”
“Fight? What for?”
An image of the Shadow Crawler with its teeth deep in her arm came to mind while she gathered the dirty cutlery into a stack of plates. “Who knows? It might come in handy someday. But…” She stared at the pile of dishes in front of her.
“Yes?” Miss Deleon asked, grabbing the plates Lane was staring at, and returned to the kitchen.
Come on, you can do this. She took a deep breath long after the water began running in the kitchen. “I don’t know where to start,” she managed when she joined Miss Deleon.
The headmistress stopped cleaning the plates, turning to face Lane, who stood awkwardly by the kitchen door. “What about from the beginning?” she suggested before restarting the scrubbing.
Lane rolled her eyes, but a shy smile pulled at her lips. Her shoulders relaxed, and she said, “I can think of what to do to get stronger, but how do I learn how to fight? I have no one to practice with. Unless I provoke the older kids an—"
“Let’s put that idea in a box and bury it as deep as possible, okay?” Miss Deleon interrupted her. “I don’t want anyone fighting in here. You hear me? No excuses for why that would be a good idea. It’s a harsh no. Harsher than going outside before you’re fourteen. Understood?”
Lane sighed and nodded, grabbing a towel to dry the plates Miss Deleon had put on the drying rack. “I know, I know. That’s why I’m here. I will learn one way or another. We both know it. I need to prepare myself for the future, and since I don’t see anyone in this village helping me, I need to take care of myself.” Miss Deleon frowned, and she added, “You don’t count. I know you’ll help, but it won’t be enough one day. I need to learn to care for myself, so I wanted to know if you have better ideas.”
“You’re right. The villagers are as harsh as Stanlow’s weather. You’ll need to learn, and I just so happen to have what you need. It’s my cherished book collection with a few manuals about fighting. If you promise to take good care of them and not use what you learn on the other children, you can borrow them.”
“Really? Yes, please. I will. I promise. They won’t leave my room. Not a speck of dirt will touch them, and I won’t practise on anyone. I promise.”
“Good. I’ll grab them after we’re done here, okay?”
“Yes, perfect. Thank you. And I…” Lane coughed.
“Aren’t done yet? What is it? Spit it out…”
“If I’m going to learn how to fight, I prefer to be alone while doing it. I don’t want everyone looking at me while I’m failing and hurting myself in the process.”
Miss Deleon stopped again, her face turning to Lane with one raised eyebrow. “What are you trying to say exactly?”
“Well… I want to start upstairs, but as you know, there isn’t much room there. So… If I… I mean… I could… I promise to be careful. I won’t do anything dangerous. I’ll even stop before the sun goes down. It’s just that… There’s so much more space out there.”
“No.”
“Just listen…”
“No, Lane. I’ll have to say yes to the other kids if I say yes to you. I don’t want to do that. So, the answer remains the same. I won’t have it.”
“I can be discreet.”
“No.”
“Seriously? You’re always thinking about the others first. This is so unfair. I hate you,” she screamed before storming off outside, passing by some of the kids, who looked surprised to see her.
Before Miss Deleon could come after her, she was in the forest and, this time, prepared. With the knife she’d stolen from the kitchen, if a Shadow Crawler appeared, she would easily kill it and show Miss Deleon she could be outside without hurting herself.
Only that day she didn’t encounter any danger. After hiding the knife underneath a rock, she paced back to the orphanage, frustrated with the lack of action she encountered. Arriving just in time for dinner, the aroma of stew made her stomach rumble, clearing her mind of any thoughts about the trouble she was undoubtedly in.
Right… The nerves crashed back down as every orphan stared at her. I broke the rules. Again.
Each step she took towards Miss Deleon felt like a burden, her shoes weighed down by the anxiety of the scolding that awaited her. The hundred eyes glued on her, eager to see how it would unfold, didn’t help.
She stopped before the headmistress, knees shaking and heart pounding so fast she was sure the people all the way on the other side of the canteen could hear it. But Miss Deleon only offered her a bowl of stew in silence, her face expressionless. Somehow, that felt worse than what she’d been preparing for.
When the orphans lost interest in her as fast as they had gained it, she realised how much this dinner felt like a regular one. Except for Miss Deleon’s disappointment, breaking the rules hadn’t changed anything.
Sure, what Miss Deleon thought of her was a thousand times more important than the kids who hadn’t bothered to give her a second chance in years, but still. Miss Deleon would come around eventually. She was certain. So, from then onwards, she spent her days in the woods.
Training as best as she could, she ran, lifted rocks, and pretended to fight with imaginary enemies. Climbed trees, handled knives and even tried, but failed miserably, fighting a Shadow Crawler or two without being bitten.
Miss Deleon tried ignoring it all, but seeing Lane’s bloodied clothes every other day made her give in reasonably quickly. She made Lane promise that if worse things happened, for how ridiculous she thought it was or sounded, she would immediately tell Miss Deleon about it. In exchange, Miss Deleon would care for her wounds without asking for too many details about how and why.
After shaking hands, Miss Deleon gave Lane the manuals about fighting she’d promised, together with some other books on how to fish, hunt and build a fire. Even a floral one with descriptions of weird plants she’d never seen before and what they were good for.
With them, Lane spent the following years learning how to set up traps and become more self-sufficient outside the orphanage. She would one day have to leave and could better begin preparations for it as soon as possible.