Bound By Fate: A Novel of the Strong by Amy Knickerbocker Page A

 
    “Sure.”
    “How did you escape from here?”
    “To be honest,” said Liv, “I don’t remember much.” Just barely fourteen years old and terrified of the utter chaos around her, Liv had lived in hiding from the moment the Cleansing began. She had been passed from one faine family to the next until, one day not too long after hearing of her mother’s death, she had been taken from her bed in the dead of night. The only thing Liv remembered clearly was a barrage of emotions from the confused and conflicted spirit who had delivered her out of Venn Dom.
    “You’ve probably blocked most of it out,” Anara said quietly. “I’m sure all of it was quite traumatic.”
    “It was,” Liv agreed.
    “Perhaps someday your memory will return.”
    “Perhaps.”
    They walked in silence up to an enormous brick structure surrounded by a low rock wall. The building was painted a soft yellow and featured two rows of white-curtained windows. Despite its cheery facade, a sense of sadness draped it like a veil.  
    Liv could hear the sound of children playing.  
    “Is this a school?” she asked, grateful for a change of topic. She didn’t remember this place at all from her youth. It was definitely new.
    “It’s a school of sorts,” said Anara, nodding towards the building. Once they passed through the gate, she set Josea on the ground. The child immediately ran off to join in play. “Today is my outpatient clinic day at the orphanage.”  
    “Orphanage?” Liv stole a look in Anara’s direction. “It’s big. How many children live here?”
    “Too many,” Anara replied. “One hundred and eleven as of last night. Luckily Vimora females aren’t particularly fertile, or there would be a hell of a lot more.”
    Liv crinkled her nose. “What do you mean?”
    “Vimora females can only conceive during a very brief timespan––just about an hour, in fact––once every twenty or so years,” Anara answered with clinical precision. “Though, during that magical hour, there’s about a hundred percent chance a Vimora’s seed will take.”
    “No, I mean,” Liv interrupted, waving Anara’s explanation off with a blush, “I mean, why would there be more orphans if the Vimora procreated more?”
    “Ah, that’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? Why do fathers abandon the home? Why do mothers give up their children?” She shrugged. “Here in Venn Dom, we have it all. Abuse, neglect… abandonment if they’re lucky. These kids have never had a chance.”
    They stood facing the building in silence.
    After a while, Anara continued softly, “You’ve been through the village. You can’t help but feel the despair since…”
    “…since the loss of the faine,” whispered Liv.
    “Yes,” Anara answered. “It’s quite a mess we’ve found ourselves in––all due to a misplaced hatred, not to mention a heaping dose of ignorance thrown in for good measure. Now, it’s the children who suffer.” She paused as if shivering back a memory. Liv could feel the doctor’s sadness, her anger, her kind heart struggling to forgive and forget.
    “There are just not enough stable families to take these kids in. Thus, the orphanage.” Anara paused again. “Or, at least, now there’s the orphanage. The problem used to be much, much worse.”
    “When was it built?”  
    “Oh, it’s been about three hundred years now. It was quite the battle getting it built. You wouldn’t think it would have been, but it was.”
    “Why?” Liv asked with surprise.
    “The Elden refused the funds.”
    “The Elden? Why?”
    “Why did they refuse the funds? Who knows,” she answered. “Since the king passed, Venn Dom has had no proper government, no true leadership. It’s supposedly ruled by a council of two, but the two involved are nothing but greedy fools. They provide for nothing. Neither they nor the Elden care about what goes on here, how these children have no futures.”
    “So, who built it?”
    “Ah, so you