*** Part one of cast: clockwise from upper left hand corner- Lucrezia, Henry, Mei, and Sofia

Saying the ballroom was large would be quite the understatement. In Sofia's mind, an entire apartment could fit in it. It was three stories high with a painted dome ceiling that could nearly reach the heavens.

Sofia could barely even remember a time when the room wasn't empty. There was a faint memory, life a flickering flame behind layers of English mist, of a ball. There was lively music coming from an arrangement of strings; the room was filled with ladies in white gowns of silk, chiffon, and gauze, their curls pilled upon their graceful heads atop swan necks, with strings of pearls and precious jewels wrapped around them. Sofia was not allowed to descend the stairs to the main floor. Despite its glimmering beauty she was slightly relieved. She feared she, in her small size, would get lost in the multitude. She watched her mother descend the staircase, after planting a gentle kiss on her head, with the grace of a goddess. Sofia did not move- standing on the very tips of her toes, chin resting on the high railing, hazel-green eyes wide- until her father had taken her mother's hand at the very bottom of the stairs and escorted her into the crowd.

Perhaps that was the last time she saw her parents. There could have been a moment in which, after the party, they sneaked into her room to make sure she was safely asleep; or the morning after, the three of them could have had breakfast together, or dinner, or enjoyed a game of croquet, her parent's favorite sport, out in the courtyard. But in Sofia's mind her mother's descend down into the main floor of the ballroom was her descent into the grave.

The ballroom Sofia now danced in was only a shadow of the one where the guests danced. The glass of the French style doors were cloudy, the wooden frame around it darkened by flames and smoke. There were no transparent gauze curtains flying in the breeze like the ghost of a beautiful creature; the musicians' platform now lay in splinters, the crystals that once hung from the now candleless chandeliers looked more like shards of broken glass. To anyone watching the scene it may have looked morbid for the chaperon of the little orphan, who was nowhere in sight of the room, to let the child dance and spin around the old, burned down ballroom that had killed just months prior. Needless to say, the child was not well cared for.

Sofia stopped her spinning abruptly when she spotted a carriage approaching. She didn't know anyone, after nearly a year of solitude, which would visit her house. She did not know why she did it, or if it was even the slightest bit reasonable, but her first instinct was to run. Never before in her life had she had to run, nor was it ever encouraged that she did; but her small, thin legs carried her swiftly out the ballroom and through the back exit. She did not stop until she reached the gardens, hiding behind the bushes. She felt her skin crawl with anxiety, her heart racing to the point she could barely stay still. She was alone with no protection. There was someone chasing her, she could feel it underneath her skin. Instinct- like a wild beast. That's what the man accompanying her had called her- wild. She might as well be a wild fledgling now, she felt hunted. She could feel the footsteps now. Breaths. She whimpered as she cowered back into the bush. She attempted to quiet her sobs, hiding her face behind her knees.

"Sophie?"

Sofia's eyes flew open. It was the voice of a child. Lifting her head slowly she was surprised to find Henry.

"Harry!" She exclaimed, jumping to hug her friend.

The boy broke into a large smile. "Fantastic," He said taking Sofia's hand hand, "We've been looking for you everywhere. Papa's here to take care of you now."

Sofia gave a sigh of relief. "What took you so long!"

"We were in India," Henry confessed sadly. "Papa came as soon as he heard."

Sofia nodded solemnly as he spoke. "Everyone here is so mean, Harry. They don't like me very much because I look like Mama. The blame Papa for marrying her, and blame her for their death, and leaving me with no family to take care of me. How can you possibly blame someone for being burned to death in their own home?"

Sofia was sobbing now. She missed her mother, her father. She hated the fact that everyone seemed to hate her and her mother, that they called them both wild and barbaric just because their skin wan't the color of porcelain, because her mother wasn't British, or French, or German. Her house and been partially burned down, she had been left along, and terribly mistreated by strangers. Her heart felt like is was being crushed by the pressure of all the water in the deepest parts of the ocean. Her hand flew to her chest as she struggled to breathe. She felt Henry try to steady her, but her mind was gone now. She could see it all over again. The walls of fire, the terrible noise it made, the smell of thing being reduced to ashes, burning bodies. It was like being trapped in hell over and over again. Only this time she could hear Henry calling her. His voice startled her in her hallucination. When she opened her eyes she found herself being shaken by Henry, who looked every bit as panicked as she was. She took a good look and his face and blinked once. "Harry?"

"Yes, Sophie?" Henry breathed out, clearly relieved at the end of Sophia's episode.

"Uncle Edward will make them go away, won't he? The mean people. I don't want them in my house."

"Sure Sophie."

"And he'll fix the ballroom for me?"

"Yep."

"And he'll take care of me."

"Mmhmm."

"And you'll stay, Harry?"

"Always, Sophie."