1 Sister Lydia, in her deep devotion to Master Elias who had long since taken solemn monastic vows, had herself forsaken the world and joined the secluded Stonehaven Monastery. All in the village and beyond spoke in hushed admiration of their bond, deeming it a love that transcended mere mortal affection. For over a decade, she had remained by his side, and though no marital intimacy ever passed between them, their companionship was as steadfast as any lifelong union. Yet, when both were past fifty, Master Elias shattered that serene existence. He brought a woman from the village, a seller of perfumes and herbal remedies, into the monastery as his bride. He commanded us to call this woman our new Mistress, declaring it a wondrous thing to have a child in his twilight years – a venerable elder blossoming anew with a vibrant, youthful bride. Everyone whispered of his heartless betrayal, their indignation rising for Sister Lydia, who had toiled tirelessly for half a lifetime within the monastery’s ancient walls. But Sister Lydia herself seemed utterly unmoved, her demeanor as serene and unchanging as ever. We attributed this to her decades of spiritual discipline, believing she had achieved a detached, otherworldly tranquility. Yet, that day, as Master Elias and his new "spring bloom" walked hand-in-hand, radiating sickening sweetness, I unexpectedly heard Sister Lydia’s thoughts: “Ungrateful wretch! I’ll flay the hide off both of you, eventually!” … Sister Lydia had stood by Master Elias for half a lifetime within the venerable walls of Stonehaven Monastery. Though they never spoke of worldly affections, everyone regarded their bond as something far beyond ordinary love. Even Sister Lydia herself, it seemed, believed it to be so. After all, within Stonehaven, she had always borne the quiet responsibilities of a mother figure. Washing, cooking, mending our simple woolen tunics – these were her daily duties, performed without complaint. We had always imagined this tranquil life would simply continue, yet Master Elias chose to shatter that peace. He was set to marry a woman from the village below. Brother Alistair, our eldest, claimed she was a perfumer from the market, with an ample figure that swayed provocatively as she walked. We, his youngest disciples, were the very last to hear the news. We rushed frantically, distraught, to find Sister Lydia. She, however, merely sighed, her voice laced with a profound, almost poetic melancholy. "Oh, if only life could ever remain as pure as a first glance," she murmured. "What use then, for the autumn wind to mourn a faded painting?" We six disciples listened, bewildered, but Sister Lydia said no more. Master Elias ultimately welcomed the woman into the monastery with a grand and flamboyant procession. We gnashed our teeth in silent fury; anyone with eyes could see that Sister Lydia had always been the one who truly cared for us, who looked after our every need! Yet, Master Elias had abandoned his sacred vows for this woman, even bringing her to the monastery in a lavish, celebrated arrival. Immediately, the villagers below scoffed at our monastery. "A monastic elder nearing fifty, and so scandalous!" they jeered. "There was already a woman residing in the monastery, tending to it, and now he brings another from the village? How utterly amusing… or disgraceful!" As disciples of the monastery, we were even more perplexed. Why would our Master become such a heartless cad, casting aside one for another? Sister Lydia, though never formally wedded to him, had certainly been devoted. She had willingly followed Master Elias up the mountain, forsaking her own life, dedicating decades of her youth to this very place. For as long as we could remember, it was always Sister Lydia who tirelessly looked after us, seeing to every chore. In spring, she sharpened our training blades until they gleamed, ready for our drills. In summer, she prepared refreshing slices of melon, chilled in the cool stream. In autumn, she meticulously stored provisions for the long, harsh winter. In winter, she painstakingly mended our heavy cloaks and tunics, ensuring we were warm. Though rarely outwardly jovial, she always met us with a gentle, smiling countenance, seldom speaking harshly. Decades of selfless devotion had weathered her once delicate skin, etching deep lines around her eyes and at the corners of her mouth. Now, Master Elias’s callous betrayal wounded Sister Lydia to the core. It rendered her decades of sacrifice utterly absurd, almost a cruel joke. One side of the monastery hung with vibrant, celebratory banners, while the other remained in desolate silence. That night, Sister Lydia never received an explanation from Master Elias. The next morning, during our daily drills, a woman with a voluptuous figure stood boldly beside Master Elias. 2 She truly was as Brother Alistair had described, yet her features were jarringly grotesque. Her face seemed a squeezed cluster of misplaced features, dominated by a prominent, wart-like growth that gave her a strangely gnarled appearance. The more I looked, the more ridiculous she seemed, and I nearly burst out laughing. It was only Brother Owen, beside me, who pinched my arm hard, stifling my mirth. Otherwise, I’d have been running laps around the monastery for a grueling hour. "Careful, you idiot! You'll be feeling the sting of the rod again!" Brother Owen hissed, his voice barely a whisper. "But Brother, she looks truly… monstrous. Like that hideous creature we saw up the mountain the other day!" The memory almost made me giggle again. Master Elias stroked his goatee, his face flushed with satisfaction, and admonished us. "Silence! No more chatter!" It was clear to anyone that the Master had enjoyed a rather… fulfilling night. A man of the cloth, nearing fifty, yet still remarkably virile. Then, oblivious to our discomfort, he casually linked arms with the woman and declared in a formal tone, "From this day forward, she is your Mistress." The woman feigned shyness, which only made her already unappealing face even more grotesque. We six disciples gaped, our jaws nearly dropping to the floor, shaking our heads in unison. Master Elias roared, "It is decided! You will refer to your former Mistress as Sister Lydia from now on!" Perhaps it was my imagination, but I sensed a mournful resignation from Sister Lydia. It was understandable; to be so casually cast aside by a man – who could truly accept such a fate? Master Elias noticed my gaze and deliberately turned to her. "Lydia, you have no objections, do you?" Lydia. That was Sister Lydia's name. Sister Lydia forced a bitter smile. "No, Master," she replied softly. "Whatever name you choose is acceptable." Only we, her loyal disciples, understood that her heart was utterly shattered. Master Elias nodded, satisfied, and specifically instructed us, "Did you hear? From now on, she is Sister Lydia." We, however, silently refused to accept this new arrangement. We bit our tongues, saying nothing. Master Elias, displeased, reached for his bamboo cane, ready to discipline us. The woman gently restrained his hand, feigning concern. "It's alright, my love. Children always need time to adapt." Her pretense was so sickeningly sweet, it made me want to vomit. At that moment, I heard two sharp, cutting thoughts. “Ungrateful wretch!” “Flaunt your affections all you want, I’ll flay you both alive!” Though venomous, the thoughts brought a strange warmth to my chest. I almost complimented Brother Owen beside me, assuming he had muttered them, but then I noticed his mouth was tightly shut! As I stood there, bewildered, I heard the familiar voice again. “And I have to call that monstrous hag our Mistress? Everyone in the village will laugh us out of the valley!” Then, a light, almost mocking chuckle. “That old fool truly is… robust. Lucky for that grotesque aberration.” This sounded exactly like Sister Lydia’s voice! And the "hideous creature" story was something we had shared with Sister Lydia during dinner! I could hear Sister Lydia’s thoughts! I tried to listen intently, but it seemed I could only hear her voice. “Once I find that thing, I’ll cripple both of you dogs!” That thing? What thing? Brother Owen, seeing my furrowed brow, nudged me. "What are you thinking about?" "Nothing, nothing at all," I mumbled. Master Elias tried to compel us to accept the new Mistress, but we made our excuses, claiming urgency for our training, and quickly ran off. As I passed Sister Lydia, I clearly heard her joyous, unbridled laughter. “Those little rascals, they didn’t disappoint me! Let that old fool rage, it’ll do him good!” Hearing that, I nearly lost control of my grin and sped up, running faster than ever. 3 As the sun dipped below the western peaks, our attention was caught by a heated argument echoing from the woodshed. First, Master Elias’s booming voice, full of indignant rage, pierced the evening air. "Lydia, I never imagined you could be so petty!" When we rushed into the woodshed, we found Sister Lydia by the hearth, calmly splitting wood and tending the fire. Master Elias stood beside her, his face livid with fury, while the new Mistress, Eliza, stood nearby, sobbing dramatically. Master Elias didn’t notice our presence and continued to bellow at Sister Lydia. "Today, I specifically instructed the disciples to change their address. Why do you insist on defying me?" His voice hardened. "Lydia, for them to even call you 'Sister Lydia' is a courtesy; why must you demand more?" His words clearly referred to our refusal to call Eliza our Mistress. But these cold, cutting words surely pierced Sister Lydia’s heart like daggers. Sister Lydia’s brow furrowed, and she replied calmly, "Master, you misunderstand me." Master Elias, consumed by anger, shot back, "Am I accusing you without cause, then?" He puffed out his chest. "If you still call me 'Master,' then you should show me some respect! And even more so for your… elder brother’s wife!" His words were sharp, and the atmosphere instantly dropped to an icy chill. “Is this old fool daring to push his luck? Asking me to call that grotesque hag his wife? It’s a courtesy I even acknowledge her as a person!” Sister Lydia's derisive thoughts crashed into my mind, leaving me utterly dumbfounded. Yet, on her face, only profound sorrow was visible, making her seem pitiful and heartbreaking. Master Elias sighed at her apparent sadness, then conceded slightly. "Alright, alright. The children are ignorant, but as long as you understand the proper order of things, that is enough." He then turned, brushing off his robes, and patted Eliza’s shoulder in a show of comfort. But his words were directed at Sister Lydia: "Call her." This was worse than a slap to the face; at least that would have been quick and clean. From the corner of my eye, I saw Sister Lydia’s fingers, gripping the kindling, turn bone-white, and her carefully constructed smile threatened to shatter. When she didn’t immediately move, Master Elias grew impatient. "Lydia, don’t dally. Call her!" Just then, Brother Alistair, who had been standing beside us, charged into the woodshed like a mad dog, roaring at Sister Lydia, "Mistress, no! You mustn’t!" He was right. Even as children, we understood what that title, "elder brother's wife," truly signified. It meant Sister Lydia’s decades of companionship and sacrifice would be snatched away by this new woman. Hearing Brother Alistair’s defiance, Master Elias was the first to react with fury, while Eliza let out a theatrical sob, tears welling in her eyes. Master Elias bellowed, "Insolent boy! Do you have leave to speak here?" He then pointed angrily at Sister Lydia, raging, "This is what comes of your guidance!" Then, in three quick strides, he seized Brother Alistair by the collar and roared, "Call her Mistress!" Brother Alistair was held fast by his collar, but he merely gritted his teeth and shook his head. "I won't!" Master Elias raised his hand, ready to strike Brother Alistair, but Sister Lydia intervened, blocking his blow. Then I heard Sister Lydia’s thoughts: “To think this quiet, eldest one has such fire in him. You mustn’t blame me, little leader, but I’m doing this for your own good.” She then swung the kindling stick, striking Brother Alistair’s thigh without hesitation. It was the first time we had ever seen Sister Lydia truly angry, and we watched, stunned. “If I don’t strike him now, that old fool will hit him harder, and he’ll be out of commission for a hundred days, broken bones and all.” Though the sound was loud, her blow was clearly not heavy. Brother Alistair, vexed by Sister Lydia’s unexpected strike, stood there sullenly. Sister Lydia, however, played her part perfectly, her feigned anger completely intimidating Brother Alistair. “Don’t hate me, little leader. It’s just that after I’m gone, only that old fool will be left to protect you.” Gone? Where was Sister Lydia going?
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