“Lately my dreams have been filled with flashes of something I can’t make out, like smudges of charcoal over painted canvas. It’s mixed with a feeling of helplessness I can’t shake. Then, just as I’m about to pierce the haze, I hear screams and wake up.”
“How long have you been having these dreams?”
“A week.”
I trusted her with my secrets. She was the only one I didn’t fear judgment from. The last time I told Kaven about my dreams, he dismissed them, saying that they were just nightmares. My dreams then had been suffocating, like I was holding my breath.
A few days later, a little boy drowned in the river.
Kaven held me while I cried over the boy, but he didn’t understand the depth of my sorrow. When I told Grandmother Alma what happened, she believed me. I have gone to her ever since.
“What do they mean?” I asked.
“In truth? I do not know. It is something you will have to discover yourself.”
Another shiver racked my body—but it wasn’t from the cold.
Grandmother Alma lifted her shaky hand and lightly patted my cheek, lingering to cup my face.
“Now, if you’ll excuse an old woman, I believe it is time I retire for the evening.”
She dropped her hand, but her worried expression remained. After she left, I stayed still, lost in thought. All I wanted was normalcy, structure, and security. But I knew my destiny was to have none of it.
The shutters groaned, and the candles guttered low. Then, in the silence that followed, I swore I heard it—my name, whispered in the wailing wind.
Chapter 2
“The gods leave crumbs for mortals, so be quick to follow.
Lest they blow away.”
- The Old Book
Islipped into the sitting room, joining Kaven on the sofa. Alona was unwrapping her name-day gifts. With the same smile and laugh, she was Kaven’s mirror, just eight years younger.
She tore through the paper and gasped at the leather-bound journal she uncovered. She flipped through its thick, deckled pages with her jaw slack.
“For your watercolor paintings,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
“I love it!” Alona jumped up and ran to me. She threw her arms around my stomach and hugged me a little too hard. “Thank you!”
“Happy thirteenth name-day, Alona.” I kissed the top of her head. “Go finish.” Without hesitation, she dropped back onto the floor and resumed unwrapping.
The next gift she unveiled was a stunningly vibrant paint set and an array of new brushes. Only one person would have known to get her that.
I whipped my head toward Kaven and narrowed my eyes. Sure enough, he was beaming with pride. It had probably cost him an entire week’s worth of earnings from work at the forge. More than my measly stipend as a leather maker’s apprentice.
It was a perfect paint set for a journal he should have known nothing about.
“How did you know?”
I had kept it hidden at my mother’s house, away from Kaven’s wandering eyes.
“You hide things in the same spot every year,” he teased.
“Can’t you suppress your disdain for surprises just once?”
“Hmm,” he hummed, pretending to ponder my request. “No.”
