Page 3 of Of Withering Dreams (Fate of the Embered #1)

THIRTEEN FROGS

BACK THEN

K aden, Letti, and I had spent nearly all day in the meadow. It was the perfect way to celebrate my thirteenth birthday. I lay in a patch of tall, fresh grass, feeling blissfully content. A spotted moth fluttered above me.

I was grateful Father had gone without me, taking our wagon and horse, Alweo, to the Rationing. It was rare that I indulged on my birthday. It always coincided with the Autumn Equinox—when the Dormancy pods awakened. Since Mama wasn’t around anymore, I usually went to the Rationings. However, Father had gotten a late start and didn’t want me to slow down the journey. This wasn’t the first time he had made it clear that my presence was unwelcome.

My eyelids scrunched shut for a moment, squeezing out memories of my mother and the effortless dismissal of my father. Over the last six turns, I’d gotten adept at pushing those feelings away, deep down into a hidden place within my chest. Not today, Seryn , I ordered myself. Today was a good day. A day to enjoy the vivid blue sky and the butterflies dancing among the flowers.

I sat up, watching Kaden help Letti catch frogs. Earlier, Letti had presented me with a handmade box, declaring it was for my birthday. It was crafted of grizzled grymwood bark, held together with tall blades of grass and bendy catbane reeds. I stroked the side of it. A cozy warmth spread through my chest at the memory of her excited smile. My second gift was the team of frogs they were catching—thirteen frogs, one for each turn of my birthday.

“Thirteen, Ser!” Letti bounced toward me with her hands cupped in front of her. Placing the frog in the box, she shouted, “Happy birthday! Wait … where are the other ones?” She sounded dismayed as Kaden walked up beside her, a goofy grin on his face. His light-green eyes sparkled with mischief. He had the most striking eyes. They reminded me of soft fern leaves stretching up to the sun.

I smiled at my sister. “I think they wanted to leap around in the little pond over yonder, but I chatted with each one before they went. Thank you so much, you two.”

Letti plopped beside me as the last frog leaped out of the box. A giggle drifted along her exhaled breath.

“We should probably head back home,” Kaden said with an exaggerated pout. “Your father should get home before dark, and I have to help Pa get things ready before the Dormancy tomorrow.”

“I suppose you’re right, Kade. Let’s head home,” I sighed, agreeing.

Kaden snapped his fingers and stepped backward, strands of dark hair falling over his forehead. “Hold on a moment while I grab some flowers for Ma. I think that’ll cheer her up a bit.” I grinned at him and reclined, resting my forearms on the soft grass.

Kaden’s mother had been feeling ill lately and often needed to rest. Kaden was helping a lot more around their home and never once complained about it. I knew he lost sleep worrying about his mother and brother. The youthful, usually fawn-colored skin under his eyes looked smudged with dark exhaustion.

Gavrel had been away for a few months after joining the Elders’ warrior legion, the Order of Draumr. He’d already be training to be a warrior … if he had survived the journey to Pneumali City. I often pondered how Gavrel was doing. He must have been experiencing so many wonders in the southern desert-like metropolis.

I squeezed my eyes closed for a moment, squashing any doubts about his survival. If he had perished in the Perilous Bogs, he would be another bloated body floating in a peaty swamp. I grimaced, praying to the Ancients for his safety.

The Perilous Bogs coated the center of the realm, spilling into the western lowlands. Most of what we knew of the area was passed down in whispered warnings. Few people from the northern or eastern regions chanced traversing the bogs—unless they had no other way to reach the south.

Before he left, there were missives, delivered by harbinger starlings, that Haadra, the eastern region, was flooded, its rivers engulfing much of the land in brackish water and sludge. To ensure they made it to training on time, Gavrel and a few other young men from our village agreed that passing through the Perilous Bogs was their only practical option.

“Ready, miladies?” Kaden bowed theatrically before us using a haughty Eastern Pneumalian accent our teacher once demonstrated.

Magister Barden tried to keep us interested in his lessons, enthusiastically teaching us what he could of the different regions, the Ancients, and the history behind ember. Of course, that was all layered with reminders of the Elder Laws and why the Dormancy was so vital. I rolled my eyes to the sky and then over to Letti.

Laughter burst out of us simultaneously as we made eye contact before looking at Kaden. He was brandishing his bundle of flowers and doing some little dance, feet moving back and forth swiftly.

I didn’t want the beauty of this day to end, but alas, time marched on. I sat up and brushed off my plain, mud-colored kirtle. My linen chemise dipped down over my shoulder.

Kaden handed the flowers to Letti and then gave me his hand to pull me up. His other hand swept along my shoulder, righting my chemise. My breath hitched, and a wave of prickly heat washed over my face as I stood.

“Uh, sorry,” Kaden mumbled and dropped his hands. He nodded in the direction of our homes. I could have sworn his cheeks were flushed a deep shade of crimson as he turned to walk ahead. Shaking out my hands, I reached out and pulled Letti up.

As we made the trek back home, my thoughts drifted like a leaf losing its battle atop a river current. My musings often circled one main focal point … the Dormancy. How could they not when Midst Fall’s survival depended on it? At least, that’s what the Elder Laws decreed.

Every turn, seven days before the Autumn Equinox, we knew the Dormancy would begin when a pulsing amber glow spilled through the conservatory’s glass walls. The light was so bright, it was difficult to sleep if your home was near one.

During this window of time, everyone had the opportunity to attend the last Rationing of the turn. Most made the journey if they could guarantee to return home in time.

Growing up, there were tales of those who didn’t make it back. These were shared around spooky campfires in the dead of night. Parents would tell their children the stories as cautionary tales meant to instill a healthy, respectful fear of the Dormancy. It was common knowledge that failure to enter a pod in time would result in culling. I wasn’t sure what that entailed, but I didn’t want the experience firsthand, regardless.

Kaden kicked several stones into a grymwood ahead of us, distracting me from my thoughts. “I wonder how much your father was able to get this time. I know Ma and Pa appreciate him helping us this Rationing.”

“He doesn’t mind. I just hope it’s enough,” I murmured, looking down at my hands fiddling with the fabric of my dress. During the Rationing, each family was allotted a small amount of grain and pickled vegetables to supplement their provisions for a few months. When feasible, it was also prudent to barter food and other resources with the others who made the journey.

Our small village only had forty-eight inhabitants. Each family tried to contribute food and supplies for trade at the biannual Rationings. Unfortunately, the last few months had been taxing, and our village hadn’t had many viable crops. Nevertheless, I was grateful to live where everyone tried to help each other when they could—even when we were all struggling.

Father said we were lucky to live in Evergryn because it wasn't overcrowded—unlike Pneumali City, where people were supposedly starving in the streets. My fingernails clenched into the fleshy parts of my palms through the scratchy linen I was clasping. People were going hungry, and it wasn’t right. Children were languishing with nowhere safe and warm to go at night.

I peeked at Letti and gave her a quick side hug as we strolled along the wooded path. She leaned into me a bit, her warmth a salve on my burgeoning ire. If I were a Draumr warrior, I would make it my mission to protect and help those who couldn’t. Gavrel and I had that in common.

Members of the Order of Draumr directed and managed the Rationings. Many young people joined the Order with starry-eyed visions of heroism, hoping to become warriors. I’m sure some were not ecstatic to be assigned to such mundane tasks. Evidently, not every role within the Order could be an exciting adventure. I smiled, imagining Gavrel handing out jarred pickles all day, an insolent glower plastered across his face.

I often teased him that his face would stay that way, and then his emerald eyes would flash with mirth while the line of his mouth buttoned firmly together. He probably didn’t want anyone to know he could express joy. Ancients forbid he release a chuckle out into the realm , I mused.

I snickered on his behalf as we neared my family’s grymwood cottage. It almost reminded me of the box Letti and Kaden had made me for my birthday. All weathered and patched up, but still cherished.

My breath caught inside my throat as we all paused and stared. The pulsing, honey-colored light from the conservatory throbbed behind the cottage. Gleaming radiance repeatedly caressed its worn edges, winking at the sun overhead on its way to the west.

Even after all these turns, the sight of the awakened pods still stole my breath away. My limbs twitched with the urge to leap away—back into the safety of the meadow with my birthday frogs.