Leaves of Holly E-Book

Arnella Hobler

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Serie: Leaves of Holly Book 1
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Seitenzahl: 440

Beschreibung

The land of Mórceath is suffering. Crops are rotting and famine has spread throughout the realm, causing great distress across the three provinces. The once magnificent kingdom is steadily declining, magic is fading away and their connection to the Mother Goddess is at an all-time low. During a rare magical festival called The Reaping, a group of Newcomers arrive in Mórceath from a distant world. Traditionally, these Newcomers are set to work for the noble houses and are seen as little more than slaves. Among them, we have Ivy; a gentle but anxious girl of nineteen who finds her new life in servitude very difficult. But more challenges await her. She will come to play a major part in unravelling the mystery of the rot that currently plagues the realm, as well as possibly taking on an even greater task...if she proves herself worthy of it. Follow Ivy on her journey of self-acceptance, discovering friendships, romance and exploring the mysteries of divine magic.

Leseprobe

Table of contents

A Light in the Dark

Through the Mist

The Blessing

The Kitchen Wench

Silver Garden

Moving Up

Midsummer

Revelations

The Scout

Sea Breeze

Dalmor

Back on the Road

The Lord and the Stable Boy

Secrets of the High Lady

A New Alliance

A Laborious Night

The Road and the Herald

Old Oak Court

The Council

Leaves of Holly

Arden

A New Journey

1 A Light in the Dark

Ivy kept her eyes on the dirty coffee cup on the desk. The bustle of her colleagues and customers ordering food could be heard outside the closed door – rush hour had begun. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to meet her manager’s eyes as he sat down opposite her.

‘I have some good news!’ he said.

‘Oh?’

‘As you know, several of our team will be leaving soon. That means we’ll be taking on some new employees. And I thought, since you’ve been here about a year now, I feel like it’s time you take on a more senior role.’

‘What does a more senior role entail, exactly?’ asked Ivy.

‘Train the new workers,’ he said, shrugging. ‘Assign tasks during busy hours, you know, be a team leader.’

‘I don’t think I’d be very good at that,’ she replied, blinking frantically as she lowered her eyes towards the dirty coffee cup again. ‘I’m fine remaining as I am, to be honest.’

Her manager looked surprised.

‘I was counting on you to step up here. You know there’s a higher pay with more responsibility, right?’

‘I understand that, but I can’t… I’m sorry, but I would rather just continue as before.’

‘I can’t say that I’m not disappointed,’ he said with a sigh. ‘I could really have used your help with this. But I can’t force you – it’s your decision.’

‘Again, I’m sorry–’

‘It’s fine. Anyway, you’re needed out there,’ he said with a nod towards the bustling kitchen on the other side of the door. ‘We can talk more after the holidays.’

Ivy resumed her work in a kind of trance, performing her tasks with robotic autonomy. When her shift ended, she slipped out through the back door with her head down. The nearly empty carpark was bright from the fresh snow; it crunched beneath her boots as she walked towards her car.

Ivy took a deep breath. She had sensed something like this coming; it had made her conflicted. She wanted the extra money – she needed it if she was ever to realise her dream of moving out of her parents’ house and set up a place of her own. Money meant independence, and so far, that independence was worth the discomfort of working at a fast-food restaurant.

But the added responsibility…training new employees…being a team leader. Ivy struggled to imagine herself in such a role. She could barely speak to more than one person at a time, let alone lead the team through busy hours. People would see right through her. They would think her a fraud…and they would be right.

She continued thinking about it as she drove home. The naked trees lining the county road looked eerie against the snowy landscape. Disappointment seemed to follow her whatever she did. First, her parents had been disappointed when she got the after-school job at the roadside restaurant, and even more so when she decided to continue working there after graduation instead of going to university.

Ivy caught sight of something in the corner of her eye heading towards the road. She hit the brakes, skidding somewhat as the car stopped. She squinted at the road, trying to see if the animal or whatever it was had passed, but all she saw was snow whirling in the wind.

She got out of the car to have a better look, and walked a few metres in front of it. There was nothing there. Ivy was just about to get back inside when a curious glint caught her eye – it came from across the nearby field. She stopped to gaze at it. There was something mesmerising about it; it shimmered so peacefully it was difficult to look away. As she stood there by the car door, a gust of wind came by, ruffling her chestnut hair. It carried with it a scent that was unusual for this time of year; something sweet, like summer flowers. But that couldn’t be right; it was December.

Ivy shook her head. Regardless of what it was, she couldn’t just stand there and block the road, so she got back inside and continued her drive home.

* * *

The sky had begun to darken as Ivy parked outside her family’s semi-detached house.

‘Hello there!’

Ivy jumped. There was a young man whom she didn’t recognise outside the neighbours’, shovelling snow off their carport.

‘You must be Ivy, right?’ he asked.

‘Correct. And you are…?’

‘Andrew Gardiner. I’m visiting my parents over the holidays.’

‘Right.’

Ivy remembered her mother mentioning the Gardiners having their son over for Christmas, along with a not-so-subtle hint about him being single.

‘I’ll see you later, then!’ he said with a wave, and resumed his snow shovelling.

‘Right,’ Ivy repeated and went inside.

As soon as she entered, her mother called for her to help with preparations. Ivy spent the remainder of the afternoon polishing the silver, chopping the salad and setting the table in the dining room. Their family dog, a corgi named Janek, kept close to her all afternoon, just in case she decided to take a break and give him a belly rub. When everything was nearly finished, she went to fetch some candles from their mahogany cupboard in the kitchen.

‘Look at him,’ said her mother as she stood by the window. ‘He’s very handsome, isn’t he?’

Ivy looked outside. There was Andrew again, hanging Christmas lights outside the Gardiners’ house.

‘Mum, stop staring. You’re being creepy.’

Marika smiled at her daughter and continued to polish the champagne glasses at the table.

‘You’re nineteen, it’s about time you get a boyfriend. You really shouldn’t have trouble finding one with those pretty hazel eyes of yours. I’m sure you would have found one already if you weren’t so…’

‘So what?’

‘Shy.’

Ivy’s cheeks reddened.

‘I have to go and get ready,’ she said curtly and went upstairs to her room.

On her bed was a bright red dress that her mother had laid out for her. Ivy took one disdainful glance at it before putting it back in her neatly organised wardrobe. Instead, she put on a black, knee-length dress and a green woollen cardigan over it. As she was buttoning it up, she thought about what a long day it had been. She had barely had time to reflect on what happened at work earlier. No doubt the conversation about her becoming a team leader would be resumed after the holidays. She would need to prepare herself for that.

Her thoughts circled back to what her mother had said in the kitchen. She did have pretty eyes – the colour shifted between green and brown depending on the light. But she wasn’t as confident regarding her other physical attributes; she was quite flat-chested and had no curves at all. After a moment’s contemplation, she added some mascara in an attempt to frame her one good asset. Observing the end result in her mirror, she found it satisfactory. Dignified – just how she liked it.

As she was about to go back downstairs, something in the mirror caught her eye – it was that mysterious shimmer again. She turned around and looked out the window, towards the little forest adjacent to their neighbourhood. There it was, dancing around among the pine trees. It was even clearer now that it was dark outside. Ivy was suddenly hit by an intense desire to go and investigate, and she was already half way down the stairs before she realised what she was doing. She blinked a couple of times, trying to remember what she was supposed to do. Right – she had to help her mum finish the preparations.

Marika gave her a reproachful look as she entered the kitchen.

‘Why are you wearing that?’

‘I like it. It’s poised.’

‘You wore it for your grandfather’s funeral. What happened to the dress I picked out for you?’

‘It’s too vulgar,’ she replied as she walked towards the window.

‘It’s red – that’s a suitable colour for Christmas. You should go and change, your father will be home any minute, and the Gardiners will be here soon.’

Ivy ignored her. Her gaze had once again found the shimmering light at the edge of the forest. It was strange how whenever she looked directly at it, all sounds seemed to fade. As if it was calling for her…

‘I’ll take Janek for a quick walk,’ said Ivy, upon which the corgi came running with great enthusiasm. Marika gave her permission somewhat reluctantly, and in less than a minute Ivy had her coat and boots on and was walking with determined steps towards the forest.

She passed the last streetlamp on the path behind her, entering the shadow of the trees. There she stopped and looked around. The light seemed to have moved further in; she couldn’t see it anymore. She knew it was there, though, due to the scent lingering in the air – summer flowers. She continued walking somewhat slower because of the darkness and uneven terrain. Despite it being dark, she wasn’t frightened. Ivy knew this place well – she had spent a large part of her childhood in there, hiding treasures, building huts with twigs and branches, or just pretending to be on some great adventure. All on her own. She thought about how big it had seemed to her as a child. The trees had felt large and imposing, hiding secrets beneath their roots. Every bush or rock held the potential of finding trolls or fairies. It had been an escape full of magical possibilities…but now it was little more than a detour to get to the bus stop faster.

A creaking sound in the snow behind her made her turn around.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked.

Andrew’s expression told her he wasn’t there by his own initiative.

‘Sorry if I startled you. Your mother sent me – she was worried, didn’t want you wandering around in the dark by yourself.’

‘Right,’ she replied. Andrew might have been fooled by this excuse, but Ivy knew better.

‘May I join you?’ he asked.

‘Eh…sure.’

They continued in silence along the narrow path, going further into the dark forest. Ivy would usually find this extremely awkward, but she was too busy looking for the shimmering light to worry about conversation topics.

‘So…’ began Andrew, ‘you must be at uni now, I presume?’

‘Hmm? Oh, no.’

‘Not sure what you want to study?’

Ivy didn’t know what to answer. She was temporarily distracted from her search by his question. It had stirred some long-since buried thoughts and wishes. Like how she dreamed of travelling and experiencing other cultures – but was too scared to actually do it. How she longed to study history, art or fashion but lacked the determination required to make a career in any of those competitive fields. She couldn’t bring herself to share this, however, fearing that Andrew would judge her or find her silly.

‘Yeah,’ she replied. ‘What did you study?’

‘Economics,’ he said proudly.

Ivy nodded. She doubted he would understand her predicament. She turned her head to hide her scepticism from him – and that was when she saw it. Hovering a stone’s throw away from them was a ball of light, radiating warmth and that sweet, summery scent. Janek started barking – he didn’t seem to see it, but he sensed something was different.

‘Probably just seen a squirrel,’ said Andrew, who apparently couldn’t see it either.

‘It’s not a squirrel,’ answered Ivy absentmindedly as she left the path and started walking towards the light. This time, the light remained where it was. The closer she got, the more intense was the scent – and soon enough, it was joined by the distant sound of birdsong. Janek barked again, this time followed by him turning around and running back towards their house.

‘I think we should head back…’ said Andrew, pointing at Janek.

‘Not yet – I need to see it up close.’

‘Need to see what?’ asked Andrew, walking up beside her.

The light was hovering over a frozen pond, its reflection glittering in the ice. Ivy could almost reach it now. As she approached it, a buzzing sensation erupted in her chest, as if a swarm of bees had made a nest there. There was nothing she wanted more than to touch it. She reached out, penetrating the warm force field surrounding the light. Just as her hand was about to touch its surface, Andrew placed his on her shoulder.

‘Hey–’

At the touch of her hand, the light embraced them, Andrew’s voice fading behind her. For a split second, they were encased in unbearably strong and scorching light – then it all went black.

2 Through the Mist

Ivy’s senses woke up one at a time. First came her aching muscles, as if she had run a marathon the previous day. Then came the muffled sound of chirping birds somewhere close by. Lying on her back, Ivy tried to move her stiff muscles as she opened her eyes. For a moment she thought she had gone blind. Everything was a white, foggy mess, as if she had looked directly at the sun for too long. A few moments later her sight cleared up, showing the whiteness to be a thick mist, and a peaceful light gave the impression of dawn. The surrounding trees told her she was still in the forest, yet there was something different about it.

The air was warm, but that didn’t make sense. It was Christmas – had she slept until spring? With some effort she managed to sit up, removing her mittens and scarf. That was when she saw Andrew lying close by.

For several seconds Ivy was completely frozen where she sat, trying to understand what she was seeing. Andrew’s eyes were wide open, his expression showing fear.

‘Andrew?’ she asked carefully.

He showed no sign of having heard her.

She crawled up to him, putting her hand close to his mouth to see if she could feel his breath.

‘Can you hear me? Please, please, please wake up…’

Still, there was nothing. He displayed no signs of life at all. She shook his shoulders, yet he did not stir. His gaze was firm on something far beyond what she could see.

‘How curious,’ said a high-pitched voice behind her.

Ivy jumped and turned around. A small man with a long ginger beard was standing there. He seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. His clothes and overall demeanour reminded her of a garden gnome, although less colourful, and his face was rather grumpy. She blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t a hallucination.

‘He must have entered with you,’ said the little man, squinting. ‘Very curious…’

He reached for his satchel and pulled out a quill, a tiny ink bottle and a piece of parchment.

‘Hrrm, no matter. Name?’ he asked.

Ivy was dumb-founded.

‘Wh-what happened to Andrew? Can you help him?’ she asked, trying to sound calm.

The little elf chuckled and shook his head.

‘Nothing to be done, nothing to be done! Now, I need your name.’

Ivy looked over at Andrew again, trying once more to see any sign of life. His face was wax-like. She had never seen a dead person before, yet she was sure he was, unless you can be alive and not breathe, or blink.

‘Your name, please,’ the elf repeated.

‘Ivy Wilson,’ she said, still looking at Andrew. The elf wrote it down. She thought of their parents awaiting their return. They were probably searching for them. Would they, too, come across the mysterious light? Her whole body was trembling now, and tears trickled down her cheeks.

The elf sighed and appeared to be contemplating something. Then he walked up to her, pulling a blanket and a flask out of his satchel. He wrapped the blanket around her shoulders as she sat there, crying quietly, and offered her the flask.

‘Take a sip! It will help.’

‘Wh-what is it?’ she asked.

‘Just some spirits, nothing strange,’ he replied as he took a sip himself.

With this reassurance, she accepted the drink. It was warm, sticky and sweet – and it seemed to do its job. Within a minute or so, a soothing sensation spread through her insides and calmed her down.

‘Thank you,’ she said, drying her cheeks with the back of her hand.

The little elf clapped his hands so suddenly it made Ivy jump.

‘Very well! Then we should get going.’

‘We? I’m sorry, but I must get home – my parents will be looking for me, for us, I mean…’ she looked around as if to see if they were approaching, but she didn’t recognise her surroundings. ‘Where are we?’

The elf looked startled, and after a moment of silence, he cleared his throat.

‘I bid you welcome, Newcomer, to Mórceath. My name is Bertu and I am your wayfinder; it is my noble task to show you to your new home,’ he said with the acuity of thorough preparation, adding a polite bow at the end.

This display made Ivy even more confused.

‘I’m sorry – what?’ she asked.

Bertu looked conflicted.

‘A long story. Not suitable to tell it here. We should get a move on though – we are wasting time.’

‘Now hang on just a second!’ exclaimed Ivy and looked around again, half expecting to see an entrance or something to remind her of the forest they had come from. The sound of Janek barking, or a bit of snow – anything would do. But all she saw were huge trees, bushes and flowers, all in bloom – with no signs of winter.

‘What happens if I don’t come along?’ she asked.

‘You will most likely die of either starvation or poisoning in this forest, depending on whether you choose to eat what you find,’ answered Bertu casually. ‘Also depending on what might find you, of course.’

‘That’s ridiculous. There’s nothing dangerous here,’ she said, still holding on to the idea of them being only ten minutes away from her house.

‘I suggest you come with me. That way you don’t have to find out,’ answered Bertu as he put his things back in his satchel.

Ivy considered her options carefully. The elf seemed friendly, and it looked as if he knew his way around. If he was telling the truth, then going on her own could potentially be dangerous, and Ivy was one to go with the safest option. She stood up slowly, her muscles making her legs wobbly as though they hadn’t been used for a long time. Then she was hit by a sickening thought.

‘But we can’t just leave Andrew here!’

She had not really known him, but she did not think he deserved to be left behind like that.

‘Not to worry, he will be taken care of,’ replied Bertu, and immediately started walking, seemingly pleased that she had finally been persuaded.

Convincing herself that what he said was true, she followed him, but kept looking back at Andrew’s body for as long as he was visible.

‘This is madness…’ she muttered, climbing over tree roots. ‘I must have entered some sort of comatose state… I’ve read about those. They can make you dream all sorts of odd things. But I hardly think they’re supposed to be like this…’

‘I can assure you, this is no dream,’ replied Bertu.

Ivy looked at him suspiciously, his little body moving along the terrain with nimble movements. Yes – it must be a dream of some kind. This couldn’t possibly be real.

The mist began to clear as they walked, making the forest more visible. Her curiosity increased with every step. The trees were large and regal-looking, as if they were proud to be standing there. The air was also different, not only warm and soft but there was something else, a scent both sweet and bitter. Ivy found it strangely comforting.

‘What is this place?’ she asked dreamily.

‘The woodlands of Mórceath,’ answered Bertu proudly, ‘although it would be known by other names in the realm you are from…if people still speak of it there.’

Ivy was overcome with fascination as she looked around. It was as though the forest itself sang to her in greeting, using birds and the rustling of leaves as its voice. A few rays of morning sun came through the treetops, the light glittering off the dewy moss on the tree trunks. This forest must be old – ancient, even.

As they walked on, the sound of flowing water reached them – they must be nearing a river or stream. Moments later, a small stone bridge became visible in the distance. The stream flowing underneath it had black water that didn’t reflect its surroundings. The current was slow, giving the impression that the water was thicker than normal. As they crossed the bridge, Ivy had a peculiar feeling of being weightless, and a soothing effect followed as they continued. Even Bertu slowed down somewhat as the effect came over them. Once they had reached the other side, Ivy felt a rush of contentment and calm.

‘The Stream of Sorrows,’ said Bertu. ‘It takes your sorrows as you cross it.’

‘Oh,’ said Ivy, looking curiously at the dense, black water. ‘But – how does that work?’

The elf gave her a disapproving look.

‘One might as well ask why the rain is wet or the sun is warm!’ he replied, pushing some of the undergrowth aside which revealed a path.

‘Okay…I have one more question, though,’ added Ivy as she followed him.

He sighed, but made no objections.

‘The effect from the stream, is it…permanent?’

Bertu scoffed.

‘No,’ he replied curtly, as if it had been yet another silly question.

Ivy pondered over the lingering effect. Normally, she would have wanted a more thorough response, but it was as if the stream had removed any need for logic. She was content, and that was all that mattered.

They continued walking, and the heat was getting to Ivy as she was still wearing her wool coat and boots. Bertu noticed her struggle and told her to drop the coat. It might have been because of the effect of the stream, but she followed his advice without hesitation, not realising she had her phone in her coat pocket.

They walked for what seemed like hours, for the most part in silence. Ivy would admire the scenery every now and then, but despite Bertu not sharing her enthusiasm, she noticed the occasional smug look on his face.

‘This forest is huge,’ said Ivy as they finally sat down to rest in a glade. ‘There is no sign of civilisation anywhere.’

‘There’s more to Mórceath than just the forest. We have great cities with palaces and lush gardens,’ he replied. ‘Beauty far beyond anything you have ever seen, I’m sure.’

‘Are we going to one of those?’ she asked, thinking that she might catch a bus or a train once they got there. Bertu opened his satchel and offered her water and some biscuits, which she accepted.

‘I’m taking you to the Market, but yes, eventually you will,’ he replied, taking a large bite of his biscuit.

Ivy did the same; it was quite crunchy with a nice taste of oats and dried berries.

‘These are very tasty,’ she said, ‘did you make them?’

Bertu looked at her for a second, seemingly startled.

‘Yes,’ he replied curtly, then turned his attention back to his biscuit.

Ivy grinned as she noticed a hint of redness on his plump little cheeks.

They finished their break, then continued hiking through the forest. Ivy’s dress was now both ripped and dirty, and she thought with relief how lucky it was that she hadn’t worn the much shorter dress her mother had chosen for her.

The light coming through the thick leaves was beginning to change. It must be late afternoon, Ivy thought. Within an hour, they arrived at what could clearly be defined as a proper dirt road with a crossing. Ivy marvelled at this; they had been hiking off-road for so many hours and her feet could hardly bear it anymore. She was just about to express her relief to Bertu when she noticed a wooden signpost on the side of the road. It was old and weathered, and it showed three different directions, but instead of words it had carved images. The top sign had a majestic tree that looked like an oak, the middle one had some kind of market stand and the lower one what looked like willow leaves. Tethered next to the signpost was a horse with a small cart. Bertu climbed up behind the horse, signalling for Ivy to take a seat behind him in the cart.

As they took off in the direction of the market sign, new questions formed in Ivy’s head.

‘So, what are we doing at the Market?’ she asked.

Bertu removed his shoes and began rubbing his knobbly little feet.

‘All roads lead to the Market. You have to go there first before you can move on.’

Ivy’s curiosity had peaked. She knew she ought to go home, but what could be the harm in seeing the Market first? Surely, it would be alright to explore for a bit before going back. Given everything she had seen and felt since she woke up in that misty glade, she was now quite sure this was no dream.

‘I don’t understand how this happened. Why am I here?’ she asked quietly, looking at the darkening sky through the leaves above them. An owl was hooting somewhere close by.

Her travel companion sighed, keeping his eyes on the road.

‘You will know soon enough. You should try to rest. We will have to travel through the night.’

3 The Blessing

A sudden shout and jerk pulled Ivy from her deep, dreamless sleep. She looked around, rubbing her aching back. Their cart had almost collided with another cart, and Bertu had shouted to avoid it. There was an elf like Bertu in the other cart, along with a young man with reddish curly hair. Their eyes met for a moment; his confused look revealed that he was in the same odd situation as she.

‘You are awake. Good!’ said Bertu as he jumped off to tether the horse.

They had left the thickness of the forest and were now in a large open space full of activity. This was definitely a market place, based on the many people, stalls, supply carts and wagons there. Ivy looked at the wall of trees behind them. Despite being so close, the serenity of the forest seemed long gone compared to the bustle of the Market.

She got off the cart, feeling self-conscious about her ripped dress and tights. Passers-by stared at her; some pointing and whispering. Ivy’s neck hair rose with discomfort, and she began brushing dirt off her dress and tidying up her hair.

‘No need for that,’ said Bertu abruptly, pushing the reluctant Ivy in the direction of the crowd. ‘We’re going to the inn,’ he continued, gesturing towards the largest building in the area. ‘You can get cleaned up there.’

‘Oh…okay,’ replied Ivy nervously, as her attention was drawn by all the people and other things they passed as they walked: men and women wearing long draped dresses and robes in various colours, some busy tending to a stall or shopping, others more interested in watching Ivy. Her eyes went too quickly from face to face, stall to stall. It was all a blur of colours and eyes, and it was difficult to tell if their attention was friendly or not.

‘…must be a Newcomer…’

‘…did you see her funny clothes?…’

‘…that’s double the price from yesterday!…’

Bertu pressed forward through the crowd, and Ivy almost had to jog to keep up with him. He didn’t stop until they reached the inn – a stone structure that looked as if it had been devoured by nature. The walls were covered with ivy, and the branches of surrounding bushes reached inside the open windows and terraces. There were lots of people here, too. Ivy was happy to see more people with normal-looking clothes, talking to each other and seeming as amazed and intrigued as she was.

As they approached the entrance, Bertu opened the door and motioned her inside. The first hall was packed with people either standing or sitting in little groups. More elves were bustling around here as well, seemingly trying to organise their groups. Ivy marvelled at the crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The crystals were rather foggy and of various shades of white, green and blue. Reflecting the sunlight from outside, they illuminated the hall with a gentle glimmer.

No one looked twice at them as Ivy followed Bertu through the crowd until they reached the hostess at the counter. She wore a tired look as she arranged a pile of scrolls in front of her. They exchanged a few words that were inaudible to Ivy.

‘This way,’ said Bertu when they were finished, beckoning Ivy to follow him.

He led her away from the crowd and through an archway, where they entered a small corridor.

‘This is where I must leave you,’ he said, taking off his hat and giving her a slight nod. ‘I wish you well.’

He quickly turned away and was gone within seconds. Ivy felt abandoned by his sudden departure, but then a door opened behind her and a woman in a brown dress appeared.

‘Come in.’

Ivy entered cautiously, and was surprised by the sudden heat rushing through the opening: the room was full of steaming little bathing pools.

‘Feel free to wash yourself. You may leave your clothes on the side here.’

Ivy could hardly wait to get in. The steam was too thick to see anything clearly, but the gentle tapping of shoes on wet stone floor told of the woman leaving through a door on the other side of the room.

Undressing as quickly as she could, she looked sadly at the ragged state of her dress, then folded it neatly on a bench by the wall.

Once immersed in the hot water, her muscles relaxed so much she thought she might fall asleep. She closed her eyes. Just as she was about to doze off, the silence was broken by the sound of a man’s voice.

‘Careful now. You don’t want to drown, do you?’

Startled, Ivy looked around to find the source of the voice. In a pool on the other side of the room was a young man, leaning back with his hands behind his head, crowned by curly red hair. He was almost concealed by the steam, which was probably why she hadn’t seen him at first. Modesty rushed over Ivy and she tried to cover her nakedness under the surface of the water, but he waved his hand nonchalantly.

‘Don’t worry, I’m not into that. I’m Kieran, by the way,’ he continued, ‘and you and your elf almost hit us with your cart!’

‘Right. Sorry about that. I’m Ivy.’

‘Sorry? It was hilarious. Finally put some life into that grumpy little git I was forced to hang out with for the last, like, three days.’

‘Mine was a bit grumpy too, but I thought he was warming up to me. But then he hardly even said goodbye when he left me outside this room,’ she began, and made her way to the other side of her pool to get a bit closer. ‘Anyway, did you pass the Sorrow Stream, too? And you travelled for three days? I only travelled for a day, but it felt much longer…’

She could barely control herself – she really needed to talk to someone about all that had transpired over the last twenty-four hours.

‘Okay, maybe not exactly three,’ answered Kieran. ‘What’s the Sorrow Stream? We just hiked…I swear, he chose the most uncomfortable route on purpose. Pretty sure he enjoyed it, too.’

‘Oh! It was the most peculiar thing: it was like a stream, only the water was black. And as we crossed the bridge, it gave you this incredible feeling, as if everything was alright.’

Kieran gasped at this comment.

‘This place is so weird! You know, I overheard someone in the main hall saying that we’ve been abducted by aliens, and that this is another planet. What’s your take on that? I mean, there’s nothing alien-like about this place, but at this point nothing could surprise me,’ said Kieran, as he picked up a set of colourful bottles next to the pool. He took off their lids and smelled them individually. Ivy did the same on her end.

‘I would say trolls or fairies, but the people here fit neither of those descriptions,’ she replied, adding a floral scent to her bath. ‘You know – like from the bedtime stories one heard as a child?’

‘Hmm, no, that can’t be it,’ he answered as he put one drop of each bottle in his bath. ‘My bedtime stories were all about muscular heroes, and I haven’t seen any of those yet.’

He looked disappointed as he said this.

They continued talking for a while, during which time more people entered to take their baths. When they were done, they were given some new clothes. Ivy got a grey, ankle-length dress, and Kieran was given robes that matched hers. Both garments were rather coarse and unflattering.

Once dressed, they were ushered upstairs and into another room that already had a good number of people in it, all wearing the same dull, grey clothing. Everyone was scattered in groups along tables with food and drink. After a bit of searching, Ivy and Kieran found some empty seats on the terrace.

‘I don’t think I have ever been this content in my entire life,’ said Kieran as he sat down and poured them some wine.

Ivy smiled, but found it difficult to relax fully. This had gone a lot further than just taking a quick look at the Market. How would she find her way home now? The idea of catching a bus from this place seemed truly ridiculous.

She accepted the wine Kieran had poured for her. The balanced taste of elderberry and citrus seemed to dull her thoughts with the very first sip. Her worries faded within seconds, only to be replaced by a raging hunger. They helped themselves to some smoked ham, bread and cheese, their satisfaction increasing with every bite.

‘So…how did it happen for you?’ she asked as they ate.

Kieran’s content smile was replaced by an awkward one.

‘It was so surreal,’ he replied, lowering his voice. ‘I had had an awful headache the whole day, and I suddenly knew I had to go to the park to clear it. It was completely deserted, being Christmas and all. A bit creepy, really. Then there was the ball of light…I followed it and poof, I passed out and woke up in the forest here.’

‘So you were alone when it happened?’

‘Yeah. Weren’t you?’

Ivy shook her head, thinking of Andrew. To her surprise, she did not really feel upset about it anymore. She told Kieran of how Andrew had followed her and had died as they entered through the light.

Kieran gasped.

‘I would not have known what to do if that happened to me.’

‘I still don’t, to be honest,’ she answered as she looked around. It was getting more difficult to talk in private as the room and terrace filled up with more people. Ivy counted about fifty or so people in there, sharing their stories, eating and drinking. Not long afterwards, the hostess from the main hall entered with three others behind her. The room fell silent as everyone looked at them in anticipation.

‘Newcomers, on behalf of Queen Derwenna I welcome you to Mórceath. My name is Yllara and I am the innkeeper.’

Some people started whispering to each other, yet all looked just as bewildered as before.

‘This is our Festival of Reaping, and thus the reason why you are here. It is a sacred tradition that goes back to ancient times. It means that Nature, the Mother of All, collects those who have ancestry here, and are thus of our blood. This is a rare event; it happens only once in a lifetime. You have been chosen by the Mother to take your rightful place in our society. This is your home now.’

A girl waved her hand in the air.

‘Yes?’

‘Sorry, but does that mean that we can’t go back home?’ the girl asked carefully.

‘Why would you want to do that?’ asked Yllara.

‘We have families and friends there. Won’t we ever see them again?’ asked the girl, now quite upset. A few other people nodded.

Yllara smiled.

‘I suggest that you have something to eat and drink. I promise it will make you feel better.’

Someone handed the girl a cup and some bread, which she reluctantly accepted.

‘Behind me are representatives from our three provinces: Cordoire, Fionnall and Casleán,’ Yllara continued. ‘Where you will go to live depends on where you arrived. This has already been reported by the wayfinder who collected you. You should go with the envoy who calls your name. I wish you all well.’

With this she took a step back, letting the others come forward.

Tension broke out in the room as they began calling out names, one at a time. First out was Cordoire; a good number of people were called by its envoy. Then it was time for Fionnall, where Kieran as well as many others were called. As he left, Ivy once again felt the sting of separation from someone she had just started getting to know.

Then there was only the Casleán envoy left – a tall man with sharp features and light brown hair tied behind his ears. He looked to be in his early thirties. His green eyes surveyed the remainder of the Newcomers, a total of thirteen.

‘Not the bountiful harvest we had hoped for, but it will have to do,’ he said with a grin.

Silence followed this comment.

‘A sombre crowd, I see! No matter. I am Lord Cadmon of Casleán, the domain of my brother High Lord Caradoc, the Just and Noble. There you will be treated well, and find a good place to call home. Follow me, please.’

He led them through the now almost empty inn towards the stables where a number of horse-drawn caravans were waiting. Ivy and a couple of others entered the one at the back. It was comfortable enough, with bedding, food and drink, to which they helped themselves as the caravans and an entourage of guards led by Lord Cadmon set off on the dirt road.

The caravan was a solid wagon with small windows on either side, making it difficult to see the surroundings. Ivy could hardly believe she had arrived in this world only the day before. So much had happened already, her mind could barely keep up with it. It wasn’t long before she realised this was going to be a long and dull journey. Her caravan companions were two teenage girls, presumably sisters, who spent a lot of time gossiping and whispering.

‘…he was so cute!’

‘…too bad we went to different places…’

Ivy’s discomfort increased as the journey continued. The bumpy road made her nauseous, so she turned towards one of the windows for some fresh air. As she did so, she suddenly found herself face-to-face with Lord Cadmon, who was riding on that side of the caravan.

‘Are you not feeling well?’ he asked.

‘Oh – I’m fine, just dizzy, that’s all,’ answered Ivy, not wanting to sound as if she was complaining. He gave a sympathetic nod.

‘I understand. I’m not fond of those caravans myself. I much prefer travelling by horseback.’

Ivy watched the trees lining the road, and the birds that were fluttering along the branches.

‘I get that,’ she answered dreamily.

‘I’m afraid I can’t let you ride. But trust me, you will come to appreciate the possibility of lying down and resting during our journey.’

‘How long will it take?’

‘It will be another day before we arrive, perhaps more: caravans travel slowly.’

‘Oh! That is quite long.’

Cadmon chuckled.

‘It’s not that long; not if you compare it to other places.’

‘Such as?’

‘The capital Dún Cordoire, for one, or Toraigh in the north. Travelling west or east in Mórceath is much faster. You should consider yourself fortunate,’ he answered.

‘Can you tell me about where we’re going?’

‘Port Casleán,’ he began, looking proud as he spoke, ‘is the largest town and port in western Mórceath. My family has ruled there for many generations. My older brother is the current High Lord. The willow is our crest, because of how many that grow along the rivers in the province.’

‘What will happen when we arrive?’ asked Ivy.

Someone called for him at the front of the line. He gave Ivy a quick nod before he rode off towards them.

She returned to her seat in the corner. The giggling teenagers had now opened the wine bottles and seemed to be having an excellent time. They offered Ivy a cup, but she declined. There had been enough of that already for one day.

She leaned back on her cushions, her mind now full of new questions based on what Lord Cadmon had told her…and not told her. There was something deeply contradicting about the situation. Everything pointed to her having been abducted – but she wasn’t at all worried. Something about this place made her feel safe. Maybe the innkeeper had been telling the truth, no matter how bizarre it sounded – maybe she really did belong here.

The hours passed, and the giggles faded away as the sisters fell asleep in their corner. Eventually, Ivy drifted off to sleep as well.

* * *

When she woke up again, evening had already come and gone, replaced by night. The caravan had stopped. It was pitch black, save for a warm, flickering light coming through the open door. Carefully, Ivy climbed over the sleeping sisters and exited.

They were at a rest stop by a riverbank. The light came from a campfire close by, and the other Newcomers were gathered around it. They seemed to be having a good time, telling each other stories about themselves. Ivy hesitated. She had no desire to join them, and didn’t see why she should force herself to. She turned away, and went to stretch her legs.

The forest looked sinister in the dark, so she stayed as close as possible to the others. As she walked around, she noticed a group of people by the edge of the glade. Ivy recognised Lord Cadmon’s voice among them. She listened carefully as she walked towards the tethered horses. He and some of his guards were talking to three strange men, all dressed in similar colourful robes like those of the merchants from the Market. They were standing by another caravan that was smaller than the others.

‘As a matter of security, you must see why I felt obliged–’

‘No, no, I do not,’ answered one of the merchants. ‘It is an insult against the High Lady to even suggest–’

‘I have said my final word,’ interrupted Cadmon. He turned swiftly and walked away, leaving the merchants to complain to his guards. Cadmon turned and saw Ivy watching them. He walked away looking aggravated. A knot formed in Ivy’s stomach – why did she have to eavesdrop like that? Ashamed, she turned on the spot and went into the bushes to relieve herself. Once she was done, she quickly returned to the caravan.

Ivy fell back asleep in no time, lulled by the hooting of owls among the trees as the voices of the others slowly faded away. When she woke up, it was daytime already and the caravan was bumping along the road again.

‘Morning,’ said the sister closest to her.

‘Good morning,’ replied Ivy, as she sat up and reached for a bottle of water. She poured some in her hands and used it to wash her face. That floral-scented bath back at the inn seemed almost a lifetime ago.

‘You sleep heavily,’ said the other sister, and they started giggling again.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You really didn’t hear? They were shouting like mad before, just as we started rolling again.’

‘It sounded like that guy Cadmon was really angry with someone.’

‘No, I didn’t hear,’ answered Ivy and tried to sound as though she didn’t care either. At that moment, all she could really think about was the lack of caffeine in their caravan. The sisters, put off by her short reply, let her be for the rest of the journey.

* * *

Evening was approaching when they finally arrived at the gates of Port Casleán. The sisters jumped towards one of the windows to have a better look, and Ivy went to the one on the opposite side. It was a dirty town, the streets densely built with narrow stone houses, casting long sunset shadows over the cobblestones. People were standing on either side of the road, staring at the caravans as though they contained mysterious circus animals.

After a long, slow ride through the city streets, the travelling party entered through the gates of a castle. The caravan came to a stop in the centre of the courtyard. Ivy was filled with anticipation as she heard footsteps approaching their door. Once it opened, she was the first to exit.

Ivy-covered walls surrounded them, and curious faces peered through arched windows. Ivy’s attention turned to the four sides of the courtyard where a crowd had gathered; their voices hummed gently as she and the other Newcomers grouped together when their caravans drove off towards the stables.

The crowd was made up of both wealthy and common people. Ivy saw what must have been the High Lord, standing at the front of a posh-looking group by the main entrance. He held out his arms as he walked towards them, smiling in greeting, giving himself a few more lines around his eyes.

‘Newcomers! Welcome to Port Casleán!’ His voice boomed over the crowd, which silenced immediately. ‘I am High Lord Caradoc. I hope that you will find this as wonderful a home as I do.’

He was dressed more modestly than the nobles behind him, his auburn hair neatly tied back without any adornments like many of the others had. He had seen better days though; his belly slightly leaning over his belt and his beard in need of grooming. Despite this, he had an air of grandeur and responsibility that made it clear that he was in charge.

‘You will follow my castle keeper to get settled in,’ he continued, gesturing towards an important-looking elf standing on the side. He then turned to speak to everyone present in the courtyard.

‘I hope to see you all in the castle gardens tonight for the grand feast, as is custom during the Festival of Reaping.’

The crowd cheered upon this announcement, and a round of applause followed High Lord Caradoc as he, Cadmon and the court retreated inside the castle. Ivy felt a surge of embarrassment at how casually she had spoken with Cadmon now that she realised his high status.

As the crowd scattered, the elf came towards the Newcomers and beckoned them to follow him. To Ivy’s disappointment they did not enter the castle, but went through a side door across the courtyard. They walked down a long corridor that led to a chamber where they were told to wait until the feast would start. Ivy placed herself alone by a corner window, watching the sun go down behind the castle walls.

When at last they were allowed to enter, the gardens were full of extravagantly dressed people placed along rows of long tables. The guests whispered among each other as the Newcomers were led to a table of their own at the end. Their words were hidden behind lively music, but their faces showed a variety of opinions: most looked suspicious, others disapproving, one or two seemed intrigued. Ivy wondered what they could have done to warrant those judgemental looks.

As soon as they were seated, Lord Caradoc rose from his chair at the high table.

‘Again, my court and I bid you welcome! The Festival of Reaping is an ancient tradition, and a unique experience for everyone here. We are all honoured to have you call this your home from this moment on.’ He raised his cup, and everyone followed his lead.

‘This night,’ he continued, ‘I invite you all to eat, drink and enjoy yourselves. Tomorrow you will take your place in our society. Now, let the feast commence!’

Never before had Ivy seen such a display. She was as impressed as she was appalled by the various courses; the mince pies were mouth-watering, but the baked pig’s head turned her stomach. She ate her fill, silently observing the other guests. They were equally as strange as they were familiar; it was like watching another culture from the outside, feeling like you have seen their mannerisms before somewhere. People greeted each other with bows and nods: how low depended on a person’s age and position. The embroidery on their clothes seemed to signify their social rank; common people had little and it was less refined, while wealthy people had plenty in intricate patterns.

When they had finished their eating, an elderly woman came before them. Her cloak had embroidered stars in silver thread, creating a shimmering effect as she walked.

‘Newcomers, if you will follow me.’

She led them further into the gardens, passing high hedges, fountains and blooming bushes. The music and laughter from the feast slowly faded away the longer they walked. Aside from the occasional cricket, it was silent when they stopped before an old stone archway lined surrounded by crooked willow trees.

‘Newcomers, I am Gweneth, the Head Scholar of Port Casleán. I have brought you here to our sacred grove, where you will receive the blessing of the Mother before starting your new life. This is custom for any citizen of Mórceath on the eve of a new life journey. You will enter the grove one by one, from then on I shall give you further instruction.’

She entered the grove through the archway, taking the first person with her. Ivy waited with the others, apprehensive about what was going on inside. When it was her turn, her heart was beating so fast it was pounding in her ears.

The grove had a heavy air, like that of a greenhouse. It was encased by the willow trees, whose branches hung like curtains around a pond with a mossy statue in the middle. It depicted an old woman with hair going all the way down to her feet. She was holding a vase from which water was poured into the pond.

‘Come forth,’ said Gweneth, who was standing by the edge of the pond, holding a silver jug.

Ivy obeyed and quietly walked up beside her.

‘Sit down, and hold out your hands, palms up.’

As Ivy followed these orders, Gweneth filled the jug with water from the pond, and proceeded to pour it onto Ivy’s hands. It was surprisingly warm and soft to the touch.

‘Repeat after me,’ said Gweneth. ‘Bless me, Mother, for I am here to serve.’

Ivy repeated the words. She expected to feel silly, but instead she was overcome with tranquillity.

Afterwards, she was allowed to exit and rejoin the others. She rubbed her hands together, the softness of the water lingering on her skin. Something told her that this feeling would remain with her forever. It seemed that everyone else around her felt the same; even the sisters had stopped giggling. This had been a sacred ritual, of that much she was certain. What it meant, however, was far less clear.