Where did these stories come from then?
I should have felt wary, at least. But I couldn’t muster up the fear that I’d walked into this town with. Perhaps it was “the dreads” dulling other emotions. Perhaps it was something else entirely.
“Let me show you to your living quarters, and then you’ll be free to do with the day what you please. I must say that Giddy’s pastries are a particular delight—especially when we have all the necessary ingredients. But she makes do with what she has…”
His sentence wandered off as he looked longingly at a shoppe up the road. The shoppe wasalmostpink, but the grayness seemed to drink the color out of things.
“Our quarters, please,” Hesper said. We had spent enough time together that I could hear the unease riddling her practiced, easy tone.
“Yes, yes! Right this way.” Angus ran his fingers throughhis gray hair, giving the shoppe a slight nod before turning to lead us through Dwindle’s streets. Whoever Giddy was, she had a clear hold on Angus.
And I needed that gossip and their pastries as soon as possible.
He led us through the cobbled main street, showing us all that Dwindle had to offer—or didn’t have to offer. Many of the shoppes were vacant, but their previous owners apparently still saw to it that the shoppes never fell into disrepair. The only operational shoppes were Giddy’s Pastries, Tuff’s, Bards & Brew, and Thandor’s Tavern & Inn—except there was no longer an inn portion, just a tavern.
As we meandered through the streets, I realized it seemed like a town rebuilding after a war. Some buildings were crumbling to dust while others were barely standing. But there were no great battles here. Only great, terrible magic.
When a town was this close to the Witherings and the only means of getting here was through the Shadow Woods or Irk Road, there could not be much hope for bolstering a community. Trade lines were shut off, and I couldn’t imagine visitors would willingly travel here for enjoyment.
One too many questions pressed on me, and before we went any farther, I needed to know what the true story was and how I needed to operate within it.
“Angus, may I ask you a question?” I said tentatively, slowing our stroll.
“Of course,” he said, concern flashing in his eyes.
“This town, it’s nothing like what I’ve—”
“I know, I know.” He looked down at the ground in dismay. “It is not to your liking? We are not to your liking?” He asked it as if this was his fear all along.
I still didn’t know how to help them, but I wouldn’t leave them high and dry.
“No, not at all,” I said reassuringly. “It’s just that, well, I’ve heard tales of Dwindle. Unbecoming tales. Even as we traveled here, everyone along the way told us to fear this place. And then we arrive here today, and none of that seems to be true.”
“Oh!” He seemed utterly relieved, which confused me even more. “That’s on purpose!”
“What?” Hesper and I both asked at the same time.
“Sometimes you do something for so long, you forget it’s even happening.” He laughed then, even though a hint of sadness crept into his eyes. Angus sat us on a nearby bench and began regaling us with the true tale of Dwindle.
“This place used to be like a Haven—a small one, averysmall one—but a Haven, nonetheless. We took pride in our masonry, if you cannot tell by our assortment of buildings.” He motioned to the boot and coffeepot down the street. “Folk from far and wide used to travel here, for Shadow Woods—before it fell to withering magic—used to be an enchanted meadow. Full of wonder, fairy hollows, bubbling brooks cared for by the nymphs, and the loveliest nestleberry bushes. The leaves never died in the forest; they stayed evergreen, except for in autumn when the forest looked like the sun itself.
“And Irk Road used to be nothing more than a scenic footpath to reach Dwindle, should you not want to travel through the forest. But that all changed. When the Prince began to regain his former strength one hundred years ago, any land surrounding the Witherings began to fall into ruin—especially the land that the Prince deemed as good,whole, and well-loved. Sucking the land dry gave him more power—sick pleasure—I suppose. Dwindle, being so close to the Witherings, was sure to fall into nothingness. Folk began to leave, but many stayed behind. They loved their homes and couldn’t bear to see them end.”
My heart lurched. I didn’t know these people or this town, but I did know the feeling of loving your home and the people therein so fully that there was no use in going elsewhere. If home was to end, then it would be your end, too.
“We thought that, well, if the Prince believed Dwindle was already lost to withering magic, he would not pursue it. So we told tales, tall tales of Dwindle. Ludwig helped us with that, saved us even. He traveled around every isle and through the realm, seeding stories of Dwindle. And the Prince’s magic never came for us. And… neither did anyone else. Travelers stopped visiting; imports never came. Ludwig brings what supplies he can, and that’s what the town lives off. It’s impossible to grow anything here now; the soil has given up, I think. And we were—are—alone.”
“I see,” I said quietly.
The weight of it all crashed down on me. An entire town set on saving their homes at the expense of anyone knowing their story. But a story was all we had in the end; that’s what wove itself into the fabric of times to come. Dwindle was willing to go down in storybooks as a nightmare, knowing it was once a dream.
I couldn’t let that happen. I just didn’t know how. Hesper sat on the other side of Angus, her eyes serious. She gave me a slight nod, but I shook my head in return.
Not yet.
Telling Dwindle about my magic? Now? I hadn’t even seen the state of the garden quite yet. Perhaps if I got two weeks of growing under my belt, then I could share with Angus my predicament. But it was too much too soon. They didn’t know me, I didn’t know them.
Therewasone thing I knew, though.
