Eris learned quickly that life at Serenity Home ran on routine. Wake-up bell at 6:30 AM. Breakfast from 7:00 to 8:00. Chores assigned on a rotating schedule. School for most of the day. Supervised study time from 4:00 to 5:30. Dinner at 6:00 sharp. Free time until 8:30. Lights out at 9:00 for the younger children, 10:00 for the teenagers.

  In some ways, the structure was comforting—a framework to cling to when everything else felt so uncertain. In other ways, it was suffocating, a constant reminder that her life was no longer her own. If it ever had been.

  By the end of her first week, Eris had mapped the social ndscape of Serenity Home with the carefulness of a wartime strategist. Lindsay and her two followers—Tara and Jess—were to be avoided at all costs. The younger children were harmless but prone to ask intrusive questions about her memory loss. Most of the staff were kind but overworked, offering smiles and quick reassurances before hurrying off to put out the next fire.

  Her roommates were a mixed bag. Lily, a cherub-faced nine-year-old, chattered incessantly about everything and nothing. Sarah, almost twelve and painfully shy, communicated primarily through nods and whispers. Mei, ten and whip-smart, had appointed herself Eris's unofficial guide to orphanage life, walking her through the unwritten rules that governed their small society.

  "Don't use the third shower stall—it runs cold after two minutes," Mei advised as they walked to breakfast on Eris's fifth day. "And don't eat the Wednesday meatloaf. Ms. Patricia thinks no one notices she uses the leftover Monday hamburgers, but we all know."

  Eris nodded, filing away this information with all the other survival tips Mei had offered. "What about Vance?" she asked, trying to sound casual. "What's his story?"

  Mei's eyes widened slightly. "Why do you want to know about him?"

  "Just curious," Eris shrugged. "He helped me with Lindsay the other day, but he doesn't talk much."

  "He doesn't talk to anyone much," Mei said. "Vance has been here longer than most of the current kids. His mom died when he was little. Dad was some hotshot wyer who remarried and decided Vance didn't fit into his new life. He comes for the mandatory visits twice a year, usually brings expensive gifts that Vance sticks in his closet and never touches."

  Eris felt a pang of sympathy. At least she didn't know what she'd lost. Vance had to live with his rejection every day.

  "He keeps to himself," Mei continued. "Spends most of his time in the library or out in the yard practicing."

  "Practicing what?"

  "Some kind of martial arts thing. Director Martha arranged lessons for him after he got into a bunch of fights when he first arrived. Said he needed an outlet. Now he practices for hours. It's kind of weird, but the staff lets him do it because it keeps him out of trouble."

  They entered the dining hall, a rge room with six round tables that could seat eight children each. Mei steered Eris toward their usual table, where Lily and Sarah were already eating cereal.

  "Here comes the bnk ste," a voice called out as they passed the table where Lindsay and her friends sat. "Still remembered how to find the dining hall, Bnk? Or did you have to have Mei draw you a map again?"

  Eris kept walking, her cheeks burning. 'Bnk' was Lindsay's newest taunt, a crude reference to Eris's memory loss. It had caught on with some of the other children, much to Eris's dismay.

  "Just ignore her," Mei whispered. "She's extra mean because you're getting special tutoring instead of regur school."

  That was true. After Eris's pcement tests revealed significant knowledge gaps—not surprising given her condition—Director Martha had arranged for individual tutoring to help her catch up. Lindsay had interpreted this as special treatment rather than a necessity.

  As they collected their breakfast from the serving table, Eris scanned the room, unconsciously looking for Vance. He sat alone at the far table, a book propped open beside his barely-touched pte. Something about his solitude called to her, a recognition of a kindred isotion.

  "Don't even think about it," Mei murmured, following her gaze. "Vance doesn't let people sit with him."

  Eris frowned. "Has anyone ever tried?"

  "New kids sometimes do. He either ignores them until they leave or straight-up tells them to go away."

  "Then why did he help me with Lindsay?"

  Mei shrugged. "That's just Vance being Vance. He doesn't like bullies, but that doesn't mean he wants friends."

  They joined Lily and Sarah, the conversation shifting to the day's schedule. Eris participated half-heartedly, her attention repeatedly drawn to the solitary figure at the far table. When Vance finished his breakfast and left, his book tucked under his arm, she found herself watching until he disappeared through the door.

  The rest of the morning passed in a blur of tutoring sessions. Mr. Howard, a retired teacher with infinite patience, guided Eris through basic math and reading exercises. Though she had no memories of previous schooling, certain knowledge seemed to have survived her amnesia. She could read fluently, perform simple calcutions, and had a surprising aptitude for pattern recognition that delighted Mr. Howard.

  "The brain is a fascinating thing," he told her as they wrapped up their morning session. "Long-term learned skills often remain intact even when episodic memories are lost. It's as if the knowledge becomes part of your cellur structure, independent of the memories of acquiring it."

  Eris wasn't sure she understood the science, but she was grateful that she didn't have to relearn everything from scratch. It was one small mercy in the ocean of uncertainty that had become her life.

  After lunch came her first meeting with Dr. Foster, the psychologist who visited Serenity Home twice a week. Eris sat stiffly in the small office, eyeing the woman with wary suspicion.

  "You've been through an extraordinary trauma, Eris," Dr. Foster began, her voice gentle. "Losing your memories doesn't just erase your past—it affects how you see yourself, how you rete to others, even how you imagine your future."

  Eris said nothing, picking at a loose thread on her jeans.

  "I'm not here to make you remember," Dr. Foster continued when it became clear Eris wasn't going to respond. "I'm here to help you cope with not remembering, and to build a new sense of identity from where you are now."

  "What if I don't want a new identity?" Eris asked, finally looking up. "What if I just want my old one back?"

  Dr. Foster nodded, acknowledging the question. "That's completely understandable. But while we hope for your memories to return, we also need to help you live in the present. Does that make sense?"

  It did, though Eris didn't want to admit it. Instead, she changed the subject. "The other kids call me 'Bnk.'"

  Dr. Foster's expression softened with sympathy. "I'm sorry to hear that. How does that make you feel?"

  "Angry," Eris answered immediately. "And... scared. Because sometimes I think maybe they're right. Maybe I am just a bnk."

  "You are not a bnk, Eris," Dr. Foster said firmly. "You may not remember your past, but you are still a complete person with thoughts, feelings, preferences, and potential. Memory is only one part of who we are."

  The session continued for another thirty minutes, with Dr. Foster gently probing Eris's adjustment to Serenity Home and her feelings about her amnesia. By the end, Eris felt emotionally drained but somehow lighter, as if sharing the burden had reduced its weight, if only slightly.

  With her scheduled activities completed for the day, Eris found herself with free time before dinner. Most of the other children were still in school, leaving the house retively quiet. She wandered down to the first floor, intending to explore the library Vance had emerged from days ago.

  The library was smaller than she'd expected—a converted sitting room lined with bookshelves and furnished with a couple of worn armchairs and a study table. Though modest, it was well-stocked with everything from picture books to young adult novels to reference materials.

  Eris trailed her fingers along the spines, wondering if any of these titles might have been familiar to her before. Would she recognize a book she'd already read? Would the story come back to her as she turned the pages?

  She selected a book at random—something about a girl who discovered a magical world inside a wardrobe—and settled into one of the armchairs. The story quickly captured her attention, and she lost herself in the adventures of the Pevensie children, finding escape in another world where identity and memory were not the complicated issues they were in her own life.

  She was so engrossed that she didn't notice someone else enter the library until a shadow fell across her page. Startled, she looked up to find Vance standing there, his expression unreadable.

  "Oh!" Eris straightened, suddenly self-conscious. "I didn't hear you come in."

  Vance said nothing for a moment, his eyes flicking to the book in her hands. "That's a good one," he finally said. "The whole series is there on the third shelf."

  Eris blinked in surprise. It was the most words Vance had ever strung together in her presence.

  "I just started it," she said. "It's really good so far."

  Vance nodded, then moved to the far bookshelf, scanning titles with practiced efficiency. Eris watched him covertly, debating whether to try continuing the conversation. Before she could decide, he pulled a book from the shelf and turned to leave.

  "Why did you help me?" The question tumbled from her lips before she could stop it.

  Vance paused, his back to her. For a moment, Eris thought he might ignore the question altogether.

  "Lindsay is a bully," he said finally, still not turning around. "I don't like bullies."

  "Is that the only reason?"

  Now he did turn, fixing her with a penetrating gaze that made Eris feel as if he could see straight through to her core. "What other reason would there be?"

  Eris shrugged, suddenly feeling foolish. "I don't know. Maybe because we're both...alone here."

  Something flickered in Vance's expression—a brief crack in his carefully maintained mask. Then it was gone, sealed over so quickly Eris wondered if she'd imagined it.

  "Everyone here is alone," he said, his voice ft. "That's kind of the point of an orphanage."

  "But you've been here longer. You know how it works. You could help me."

  "I already did. I told Lindsay to back off."

  "That's not what I meant," Eris persisted, not entirely sure why she was pushing this. "I meant help me figure out how to... be here. How to get stronger, like you said."

  Vance was silent for so long that Eris began to regret her boldness. Finally, he sighed—a sound too weary for someone so young.

  "Meet me in the yard tomorrow after your tutoring. Four o'clock." Without waiting for her response, he turned and left the library, leaving Eris staring after him in stunned surprise.

  Four o'clock the next day found Eris hovering anxiously at the edge of Serenity Home's spacious backyard. Most of the younger children were pying on the wooden pyground structure, their shrieks of ughter carrying across the grass. A group of older boys kicked a soccer ball back and forth on the far side of the yard.

  Vance was nowhere to be seen.

  Eris checked the watch Mr. Howard had given her to help her keep track of her schedule. 4:05 PM. Maybe Vance had changed his mind. Maybe he'd been messing with her. Maybe—

  "You came."

  She whirled around to find Vance standing behind her, dressed in sweatpants and a gray t-shirt. He carried a small duffel bag over his shoulder.

  "You said to meet you," Eris replied, trying to sound more confident than she felt.

  "Most people don't listen to me," Vance said, a hint of something like approval in his voice. "Come on."

  He led her to a ft, grassy area behind the gardening shed, partially screened from the main yard by a row of hawthorn bushes. It was a secluded spot, but still within sight of the house—important for adhering to Serenity Home's safety rules.

  Vance dropped his bag and unzipped it, pulling out two water bottles. He handed one to Eris.

  "You want to get stronger," he said, not a question but a statement.

  Eris nodded.

  "Why?"

  The question caught her off guard. "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, why do you want to get stronger? Because Lindsay calls you names? Because you're the new kid? Because you're scared?"

  Eris frowned, considering the question carefully. "All of those, I guess. But mostly because..." She struggled to articute the feeling that had been growing inside her since she woke up in that hospital bed. "Because right now, I'm just what happened to me. I'm just the amnesia girl, the bnk ste. I want to be more than that. I want to be strong enough that even if I never remember who I was, it won't matter as much because I'll know who I am now."

  Vance's expression remained neutral, but something in his eyes softened almost imperceptibly. "That's a better answer than I expected."

  "What answer did you expect?"

  "Most kids just want to learn how to fight back. How to hurt the people who hurt them."

  "Is that why you started learning?" Eris asked, genuinely curious.

  A shadow crossed Vance's face. "That's not important. What matters is that I'm going to teach you some basics. Not to fight—to defend yourself. There's a difference."

  He moved to the center of the clearing and motioned for Eris to join him. "First, stance. How you stand determines everything else."

  For the next thirty minutes, Vance guided Eris through basic defensive postures. He was a demanding teacher—correcting her form repeatedly, making her hold positions until her muscles trembled, drilling the same movements over and over. But he was also unexpectedly patient, demonstrating techniques slowly and clearly expining the reasoning behind each movement.

  "Your body is smaller than most people who might try to hurt you," he expined as he showed her how to break a wrist grab. "But that doesn't mean you're powerless. It's about leverage and pressure points, not brute strength."

  By the time they finished, Eris was sweaty and exhausted, but filled with a sense of accomplishment she hadn't felt since waking up in the hospital. She had learned something. Created a new memory. Taken a small step toward defining who she was now, rather than dwelling on who she might have been.

  "Same time tomorrow?" Vance asked as they collected their water bottles.

  Eris nodded, trying not to appear too eager. "Thank you for teaching me."

  Vance shrugged, seemingly uncomfortable with the gratitude. "Just don't tell anyone. I don't want every kid here asking me for lessons."

  "I won't," Eris promised. "But... can I ask you something?"

  Vance looked wary but nodded.

  "Why are you helping me? Really?"

  He was quiet for a long moment, his eyes distant, as if seeing something far beyond the orphanage grounds. When he finally spoke, his voice was so low Eris had to strain to hear it.

  "Because when I first came here, I was angry all the time. Angry at my dad for leaving me. Angry at the other kids for having it better than me, or for having it worse and not fighting back. Angry at myself for not being enough." He met her gaze directly. "Someone helped me channel that anger into something useful. I guess I'm just... paying it forward."

  It was the most personal thing Vance had shared with anyone, as far as Eris knew. Before she could respond, he hefted his bag and turned to go.

  "Vance," she called after him. He paused but didn't turn around. "I'm angry too. All the time. Even when I look calm."

  He gnced back at her over his shoulder, the ghost of a smile touching his lips. "I know," he said simply. Then he walked away, leaving Eris with aching muscles, new knowledge, and the first real connection she'd felt since waking up without a past.

  That night, as she y in her bunk listening to her roommates' steady breathing, Eris repyed the training session in her mind. The precise movements. The feeling of her body learning something new. The way Vance had shown a glimpse of who he really was beneath his careful armor.

  For the first time since arriving at Serenity Home, Eris fell asleep without tears threatening behind her eyelids. Instead, she drifted off thinking of tomorrow's lesson, her mind filled not with what she had lost, but with what she might gain.

  In the darkness of the orphanage, something new had taken root—a fragile seedling of hope pushing through the rocky soil of her uncertainty. She wasn't just Eris Kane, the girl with no past. She was Eris Kane, the girl who was learning to defend herself. The girl who had somehow connected with the most isoted person in Serenity Home.

  The girl who was, step by small step, beginning to get stronger.