—Nari—
Nari held the basket of strawberries in her hands and walked back to their hut with Marnia, her step light and buoyant. At last, a reason to celebrate.
Earlier, they had stopped by the farmer Ersa and picked up some fresh butter and eggs. The village of Rasten was not wealthy, but so far everyone still had enough food, and they supported one another.
On the way home, Nari's gaze fell on the bushes and trees. Everything had begun to sprout and bloom. Everything promised a new beginning. She started to hum a tune, and before long Marnia joined in.
When they reached the hut, they set to work at once. Marnia gathered the remaining ingredients, while Nari lit a fire in the small stone oven in front of the hut. Then she helped Marnia prepare the dough. Aside from the butter and eggs, they only needed some flour, honey, and water. Nari kept sneaking bites of the small strawberries. Some were no bigger than her fingernail, but she loved their sweet, floral taste. Marnia looked at her, shaking her head, and lightly slapped her hand.
"Nari! If you keep that up, we won't have any strawberries left for the cakes."
Nari grinned apologetically and then began placing the small cakes Marnia had shaped into the oven one by one. Afterward, they topped them with the remaining strawberries. Nari looked at their work and nodded in approval. Everything looked good. And except for one small cake, the strawberries had been just enough.
"I'm so glad we can celebrate today," Nari said.
"Street festivals are better anyway," Marnia replied.
"Ah, here we go again, Mama," said Nari. "You're probably about to tell me again that such celebrations are all just appearances and that you don't miss them at all. But maybe I see it differently. Maybe I like all of it. The atmosphere, the music, being together with others." Nari was truly sad that she could hardly ever take part in such festivities.
Marnia sighed. "I did like it, in part. But I grew up in a world where everything revolved around reputation, status, and appearances. I feel so much freer now. You can't understand that yet, Nari. But not everything is always as it seems."
"Mm." Nari shrugged. "We're just different. But today, I just want to look forward to the festival. Oh, I think I'll wear my gray dress."
Marnia nodded. They didn't have many dresses, and colors were a luxury for them. They had dyed the wool dress themselves using oak bark and iron. Nari had also embroidered a small white bird onto the dress, making it something special. She only wore it on special occasions like this day. Another colored dress she owned was brown. She had embroidered a bird onto that one as well. She often wished she could be a bird herself. Just spread her wings and fly into the sky. Far away. And see the world. The bird was also her small symbol, because as a child she had worn a necklace like that. Now she no longer wore it—it was far too valuable.
Nari thought about the upcoming festival and what Marus had said.
"Do you think the Lightkeepers will come to us as well?" she asked Marnia as she put on the dress.
Marnia was silent at first, then said, "We'll see. After all, the war is over. Come, let me do your hair."
Nari smiled and sat down on a small stool beside her mother so she could braid her hair.
When they were finished, they set off again toward the village center, where all kinds of villagers had already gathered. It was a pleasant afternoon, no longer so cool, but already filled with a gentle warmth.
Someone had set up tables so that everyone could place their prepared food there. Villagers who could play instruments provided a bit of music.
Nari spotted Talisa and went over to her. Marus was there as well, telling a few more things he had heard.
"…and since the Lightkeepers have ruled in Stevar, they've had much better harvests there. People go hungry far less. And far fewer die from the fever."
Nari listened with great curiosity and excitement.
"There is also more peace. However, there is a new danger from the so-called Shadowfighters."
"Shadowfighters?" questioning voices rose from the small group.
Marus nodded. "Yes, unfortunately that's the downside. Not everyone likes progress and peace. The Shadowfighters are a rebellious group trying to destroy what the Lightkeepers have built."
Nari shook her head, deeply stirred. Why did there always have to be people who stood against what was good?
"And where do they come from?" someone asked.
Marus continued, "They seem to come from Stevar. They are said to use the cornflower as their symbol, much like the former kings of Stevar."
Nari thought she understood—it suddenly made sense. The descendants of the royal family likely could not bear having lost their power over the people. Nari had been too young when the king of Stevar had been overthrown. But she had not heard much good about him. The people of Galghant had also grown dissatisfied with King Galan.
Talisa turned to Nari and said, "Well, let's hope the Lightkeepers arrive soon and that we never encounter a Shadowfighter."
Nari nodded. She didn't want to let her mood be spoiled. She had heard enough.
"Come on, let's eat something and dance," she said to Talisa.
She took Talisa's hand, and together they went to the square and danced with the others to the cheerful music.
Nari saw Marnia standing at the edge, went over to her, and pulled her into the dance. Marnia laughed as they hopped and clapped along to the music.
A few little girls came along. They had made wreaths of small meadow flowers and gave them to the women. Nari placed a wreath on Marnia's head, and Marnia did the same for Nari. Then almost the entire village joined in a circle dance, and even a light drizzle that began to fall did not lessen the joy.
Later, as Nari lay in her bed, she was still filled with happiness. Could life not always be like this?
She closed her eyes and imagined what it would be like if the Lightkeepers came to the village. At last, she fell asleep and dreamed of a better future full of adventure.
-----
Enclave Achschab, Stevar.
—Atheloun—
Atheloun saddled his horse after packing his belongings. It was already dark, but it was safer to depart under the cover of night. He still did not think it was a good idea to travel through Galghant to Erana, where he hoped to meet potential allies. But his friends believed it was a good opportunity for him to see the situation in Galghant for himself. Yet what could be so different in Galghant now compared to Stevar? The Lightkeepers would likely flood that land as well before long, just as they had in Stevar—if they hadn't already done so. He had actually wanted to set out much earlier, but the war and the storm had been too severe.
In Galghant, at least, he would be able to visit an aunt. If she was still alive. He had never seen her, but she was said to live in a small village in the center of Galghant. She was his mother's sister, who had once run away with a merchant. The family had long since lost contact with her. But she was the only relative he had left—if she still lived. The rest of his family had fallen victim to intrigue and, eventually, to the Lightkeepers. He owed it to his brave nurse that he was still alive at all. They had all fled to the small enclave, the only place in Stevar that still longed for the old life, free from the Lightkeepers.
Atheloun was convinced, however, that more and more people were growing weary of the rule of the Lightkeepers and would rather have their old kingdom back. He sighed. He felt such a heavy responsibility on his shoulders. His friends and allies saw him as a beacon of hope. Yet he was no more capable than the others, nor did he possess any greater abilities. And still, for as long as he could remember, he had heard phrases like: "We place our hope in you," or "You will give us back our kingdom," and "As long as you live, we still have hope."
Atheloun shook his head. He felt like nothing more than a boy. He looked at the necklace he wore around his neck. It was a silver stylization of a cornflower. Sadly, he had never truly known his parents. But they had left him this legacy. For their sake, he would try.
He turned once more and looked at the huts and houses. His nurse Liana had come and brought him some provisions. Tears stood in her eyes as she embraced him once again.
"Take care of yourself," she said. He only nodded. He had already said his farewells to the others. He affectionately patted his black stallion, Treso, on the shoulder and mounted the saddle.
"Onward, good boy—on to Rasten," he said, and then he set off at a light trot.