ORLANDA woke to the first ray of sunlight she had truly noticed in nearly a year. It spilled gently through sheer white curtains and laid a soft glow across the small room. Unlike the cold, suffocating dungeon-like space Oswald had caged her in for so long, this room felt… human. The walls were painted a pale, calming cream, with a small framed painting of a garden hanging just above the neat single bed. A modest wooden dresser sat against one wall, its top holding nothing but a little ceramic lamp and a jug of water with a glass. The bed was nothing fancy, just soft cotton sheets and a warm...