Insentient

Chapter 3

"You look exhausted, you should rest," she says but I can't relax. There are far too many questions in my brain and no real answers forthcoming. I'm still trying to process this new development as I study her closely.

"Are you...trolls?" I finally ask, and I can tell by her scrunched expression and narrowed eyes that probably wasn't correct. "Goblins?"

"Liz!" she bursts out. "Whatever you do, do NOT say that to anyone else. We are not...did someone read you too many fairy tales when you were little?" she asks with a cocked head.

"I just don't know how to explain this -" I start.

"You don't have to explain this or name it. This is my reality, and now yours, for the time being."

"You seem confident that I'll leave," I say as the flames before me cast one side of her face in an odd orange glow. I can't actually believe I am sitting next to and talking to something that looks like she does.

"You will. They all do, eventually," she says cryptically.

"You mean the other...people like me."

"Yes."

"Well, how do they leave, what do they do?" I ask with a sudden flare of hope.

"I can't tell you that. They just...disappear. Here one minute, gone the next."

That's not exactly helpful.

My eyes wander back to the small firepit. On the other side, a small dwelling resides with a door only large enough for the creature next to me to enter through. The structure is rustic, somewhat lopsided and obviously built from the sad, gnarled wood the land has provided.

"Who was that...thing in black?" I'm not exactly sure what to call him. He certainly appeared to be a man, from what I could see beneath the long, dark garment he wore, but his face, or lack thereof would suggest otherwise.

"He provides for us, I suppose. Although I would say he is more of a reluctant leader. He really wants nothing to do with any of us, to be honest," she answers.

"Does he have a name?"

"Nothing he ever provided. Sandeep called him Kritanta, but I have no idea what kind of name that is. We don't call him anything, well, maybe 'Sir' but that's it. He's not very...friendly."

"Yes, I've noticed that," I reply immediately, and it brings a small chirp of laughter from her before her features settle into grim expression.

"He's always been quiet and reclusive, but lately, it seems to be getting worse. He doesn't like to be bothered when he's here."

"What do you mean, 'when he's here'? He's not always here, he can leave?" I ask, wondering if he may be the key to my departure from this dismal place.

"I think so. You can feel it, everything stills, and it becomes dark. It's the opposite when someone like yourself arrives here. The air becomes charged, and the light brightens for a bit. We're drawn to that," she says and a sudden thought pops into my head.

"Do they always show up in that room? The people like me?" I ask eagerly.

"I believe so, or at least when he's not here. That seems to be the only time we can enter the palace freely. When he's here, he keeps us out."

"He doesn't seem like a very good provider," I mutter in a bland tone.

"No, I would say he's not."

I settle the small, thread-bare blanket around me, careful not to disturb the bandages on my arms. She applied some type of homemade goop she called salve on my cuts and scrapes earlier and although the stuff looked questionable at the time, it was working wonders at reducing the burning pain I experienced earlier.