Soliana learned quickly that Inferna did not announce when it was finished with you.

  There was no bell. No dismissal. No one to say that’s enough for today.

  Her second attempt began with a mistake she didn’t realize she was making until she was already inside the room.

  The office looked the same as before.

  Same narrow space. Same shelves pressed too tightly together. Same desk worn smooth where hands rested again and again. For a moment, her chest lifted—hope, sharp and fragile—because the woman behind it was not the same one as last time.

  This one was older. Broader through the shoulders. Her hair was threaded with gray and pinned back loosely, like it had been done without a mirror.

  Maybe, Soliana thought.

  Maybe it depends on who you ask.

  She stepped forward before she could second-guess herself.

  “I want to help,” she said.

  The woman didn’t look up right away. She finished writing a line, then another, then set the quill aside with deliberate care.

  “Name?”

  “Soliana.”

  The woman nodded, already reaching for a ledger. “Status?”

  Soliana hesitated.

  The pause felt louder than her voice when she finally said, “I’m staying with Flora.”

  The woman didn’t sigh this time. She didn’t even slow.

  “Guest,” she said, flipping a page. “We don’t assign work to guests.”

  The words landed heavier than before. Not because they were cruel—but because they were practiced.

  “I can do small things,” Soliana said quickly. The edge crept into her voice before she could stop it. “I won’t get in the way. I just—”

  The woman finally looked at her.

  Her gaze wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t annoyed. It slid over Soliana the way one assessed furniture placement—checking fit, not worth.

  “Rules aren’t about what you can do,” she said. “They’re about what you’re allowed to do.”

  She tapped the ledger once, already closing it. “Come back if your status changes.”

  That was it.

  No explanation. No apology. No suggestion of how that status might change.

  Soliana stood there anyway.

  She didn’t know what she was waiting for—maybe for the woman to notice she hadn’t left yet. Maybe for the rejection to soften if she stayed still long enough.

  The quill scratched again.

  Inferna did not look back.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Her throat tightened as she turned away. The motion felt wrong, like leaving something unfinished, like walking out of a room where she’d forgotten something important but couldn’t remember what.

  The corridor swallowed her.

  Inferna did not push her out. That would have required effort. Instead, it simply continued without her—boots passing close enough to brush her sleeve, voices calling distances she couldn’t measure, doors opening and closing for people who knew where they were going.

  She walked because standing still made her chest hurt.

  Because stopping meant admitting that this—this wandering, this asking—was all she had.

  Her eyes stung. She told herself it was from the torch smoke.

  She didn’t feel angry. Anger required certainty. What she felt instead was thinner. Smaller. Like she had reached out with both hands and found nothing solid to grab.

  Guest.

  The word followed her.

  Not belonging anywhere meant you couldn’t be refused—you were simply… set aside.

  That was when someone almost collided with her.

  “—hey—!”

  Metal shifted violently in a boy’s arms. Helmets clanged against spear shafts, leather straps sliding loose as his grip failed.

  “I—wait—!”

  The sound cut through her thoughts like a blade.

  Soliana didn’t decide.

  She grabbed.

  Her hands closed around the end of a spear rack just as it began to slide free. The weight slammed into her palms, nearly pulling her forward. Pain flared up her wrists, sharp enough to steal her breath, but she leaned back instinctively, heels digging into stone.

  The metal stopped.

  The boy froze.

  “Oh—oh thank—thank you.” His voice shook as he adjusted his grip. Then he finally looked at her, really looked. “Can you—uh—can you take that side?”

  For half a heartbeat, Soliana almost said I shouldn’t.

  Instead, she nodded.

  They moved together before she had time to ask herself why it felt easier to help than to ask.

  The corridor narrowed as they walked, the weight forcing them into an uneven rhythm. The boy talked as if silence might cause everything to fall apart again.

  “I was supposed to make it in one trip,” he said. “But the quartermaster said no delays and I mean, I could have, just—”

  He shifted the load. Soliana copied him without thinking, her muscles responding faster than her thoughts.

  “I’m Eric, by the way,” he said. “I’m an Apprentice knight. And—I mean, I don’t want to brag, but I’m probably the best one in Inferna too.”

  “Soliana,” she said, neither doubting nor confirming his credibility.

  That was all.

  He didn’t ask more. Didn’t question her presence. Didn’t wonder why someone her size was carrying weapons meant for soldiers twice her age.

  They turned once. Twice. Doors opened. No one stopped them. No one asked who she was or why she was there.

  Inferna accepted motion.

  The weapons room smelled of oil and iron. Eric nearly dropped his side when they reached the racks, his strength giving out all at once.

  Soliana braced instinctively, holding until the weight transferred safely.

  Metal settled. Echoed.

  Eric straightened slowly, wiping his hands on his trousers. Now that he could afford it, they were shaking.

  “Thanks,” he said. Quieter this time. Real. “Seriously. I would’ve been dead if I dropped that.”

  She nodded, though she wasn’t sure why. “Y—You’re Welcome ”

  He laughed once, breathless. “Alright, I have to go now” He hesitated. “I’ll remember you.”

  The words tightened something in her chest before she could stop it.

  Then he was gone.

  Soliana stood alone among the weapons.

  Her hands throbbed. Red marks bloomed where the metal had pressed into her skin. Not injured. Just… proof.

  No one had stopped her.

  No one had checked her status.

  No one had told her she wasn’t allowed.

  The realization didn’t arrive cleanly.

  It crept in.

  Like a door left open that you only notice when the draft touches your neck.

  She left the room slowly.

  The next time someone spoke to her, it wasn’t to ask who she was.

  “Can you hold that.”

  She did.

  “Take this to storage.”

  She did.

  Once, a woman frowned and said, “I don’t recognize you.”

  Her heart jumped. Her mouth went dry.

  “I’m...new.” Soliana said.

  The woman nodded, already turning away. “Figures.”

  That was all.

  No badge. No papers. No name written anywhere official.

  Just movement. Just usefulness.

  The ache in her chest didn’t go away—but it changed shape.

  Frustration settled in its place. A quiet, steady pressure.

  They wouldn’t let her be a servant.

  But they didn’t stop her from acting like one.

  Inferna did not care who you were if you moved the way it expected you to.

  By the time the torches changed, her legs ached and her hands smelled faintly of oil. She had carried more than she ever had before. She had been spoken to like someone who belonged somewhere specific.

  No one called her a guest.

  No one told her to wait.

  As she crossed another corridor, purpose holding her upright, the thought followed her—not triumphant, not clever, just stubborn:

  If she couldn’t be assigned a place—

  She could still take one.

  And Inferna, for all its rules, would not stop her unless someone noticed.

  She kept walking.

  Tomorrow, she thought, she would do it again.