Page 1 of Where the Shadows Land (Garden of Hope #1)
ASTORIA
Grief came in waves. Sometimes it arrived like a kiss on the shoreline, the gentle hiss of the water as it sank into the sand. A faint remembrance of an ache. Other days, the wave was so tall it swept her out into the sea of emotion and drowned her. Tonight, the storm in her chest raged.
The peaks of the wave stretched over the walls of her home and came crashing down over her with the weight of a mountain.
She hiccuped, attempting to breathe through the salt water on her lips.
Numbness carried Astoria through most days, but when she was alone in the cold sheets and darkness, the wounds in her chest bled anew.
If I took better care of myself, Inara would’ve gotten to breathe. If I wasn’t a coward, my magic might have healed Damien. If we heeded the warnings about the curse on this land and remained in Leilan, perhaps I would still be myself. Instead, I am broken and alone.
The gentle weight of four paws settled on the bed beside her.
A long, thin snout nudged at the underside of her elbow.
Astoria didn’t have the strength to lift it.
Bastian somehow made his way through anyway, his thick red fur falling flat as he squeezed himself into her arms. He burrowed into the space between her chest and legs, stretching up to lick the tears from her face.
To everyone else, the action would look like a simple sign of affection from a pet to their owner.
But, Astoria spoke the language of the trees, bees, and all living things thanks to the forbidden magic in her blood.
It wasn’t a language she could describe, but it was communication all the same.
Bastian worried for her, as he often did.
As if the gods cut them from the same cloth, he knew what she needed better than she did.
If their connection could be explained or not, it didn’t matter.
Her little fox’s presence was a gift. The weight of Bastian in her arms took her out of her bleak thoughts and grounded her in the moment.
She stroked his dense, fluffy fur in a slow rhythm that steadied the shaking in her fingers.
The scent of the deep forest and copper tang of blood from whatever he hunted for his dinner permeated the space between them, and the familiarity of it stopped the cascading tears.
“Sorry to worry you,” Astoria murmured. “Sleep evaded me for too long.”
Bastian licked her cheek again, clearing the drying tears.
He nudged her knees three times with his nose, then hopped off the bed and sat by the open door.
His big brown eyes weighed heavily on her, but she ignored him.
She did not deserve tea or comfort. She certainly did not deserve sleep.
The break it offered from the pain and the dreams of her family were too good for her.
Astoria deserved to lie in the icy darkness and suffer.
Bastian barked his disagreement and pawed at the door frame.
Astoria didn’t move, so he did it again.
Louder. Astoria pushed herself upright and glared at the dirty sheets she didn’t have the strength to wash.
She didn’t have the strength for much these days.
She sat on the edge of the bed, unmoving.
Bastian padded over and nipped at her fingers, and gave a half-hearted growl.
It didn’t hurt, Bastian never hurt her, but it got her up.
She stood and winced. The back of her neck down to her pelvis clenched and ached.
Needle-like sensations ran up her legs as the numbness faded with each step she made toward the bedroom door.
Astoria didn’t bother to stretch her tight muscles as she followed her familiar through the small house to the kitchen.
He stayed by her side as she scrounged through the too-empty cabinets for tea.
She rarely had the bravery to go to the market these days.
The pitying smiles and stale niceties of her community both stoked her fury and tore her apart.
Sorry for your losses. Your girl was too pure for this world; she is at peace.
Your husband would want you to smile. You were lucky to have such love.
Do not cry, you will see them in the Eternal Light.
The truth of their platitudes didn’t matter.
Maybe Inara was too perfect for this world and only needed a body to complete her soul’s journey.
Damien would want her to smile, and she was lucky to have such a love.
That was why she cried. There would never be another Inara, or another Damien.
If she couldn’t have them, what was the point of having anything at all?
The wooden tea jar clanked loud against the counter.
Astoria jumped back and her heart slammed hard against her ribcage.
Bastian’s soft, bushy tail brushed against her leg, grounding her.
With trembling fingers, she set the kettle over the hearth fire.
She kept her distance, despite the winter chill in her small home.
The daub walls kept most of the chill at bay, and the dusty wood floors held the warmth of the fire well.
Astoria did not tend to the fires as she should have, though.
It was another task on her plate that she often ignored.
So much of what she needed to do she didn’t have the energy for.
Dust settled in the corners of her small home.
Tools and forgotten projects were strewn about the place.
Clothes that needed washing sat on the chair closest to the front door, while clothes from the line were half-folded on the small table between them.
She didn’t bother to light any of the candles, so the only light came from the low flame of the hearth. Astoria stayed in the dark .
“I didn’t think you’d still be awake,” Blythe said as she came through the front door. The wind howled outside and carried the frozen breeze into the open room. “Are you having trouble finding your rest again?”
Astoria didn’t have the heart to tell the overworked brunette that, more nights than not, she didn’t sleep. Instead, she gestured to the kettle over the hearth. “The tea helps.” Sometimes.
Blythe’s lips thinned and her brown eyes went doe-wide. “Do you want to talk about it?”
They never needed to mention what the it was.
Grief touched every part of Astoria’s life and sprawled like mold to anyone that cared about her.
It didn’t let her sleep, eat, or allow her to care for herself or anyone else.
The grief consumed her even though she buried her family almost two full years ago.
The wound they left still seeped as if it was raw.
In the sunlight-yellow robes from the Pillar of Light and standing inside the doorway fresh from work, Blythe offered more of herself on the off chance Astoria needed her.
Forever giving, Blythe always had a kind word.
She always offered her help, even when her arms trembled from exhaustion.
She spent almost all day every day in the Pillar helping the sick, only to come home for a brief rest and find Astoria also in need.
Blythe’s nature was to help. It came as no surprise to Astoria that her childhood best friend went into the service of Soleil, the Goddess of Light and Hope.
Blythe’s shoulders slumped and her dark hair stuck to her forehead.
The empty look in her eyes told Astoria that Blythe used much of her magic with no success.
Astoria couldn’t burden Blythe with any additional weight to carry.
Not when there were much greater concerns than her melancholy.
“No, thank you. Tea?”
“Yes, please.” Blythe set her bag on the hook by the door, then hurried to the small kitchen.
She pulled two earthenware mugs from the shelf and drizzled the perfect amount of honey into Astoria’s cup, then added far too much to her own.
Only the crackle of the fire filled the air for a long moment.
Blythe pushed Astoria’s knotted hair over her shoulder.
“I’m here for you, Tori. You know that, don’t you? ”
Astoria’s heart clenched. That was the worst part. Of course, Astoria knew. Blythe was the most giving person in the kingdom, perhaps who ever lived. Astoria couldn’t ask more of her best friend, not with everything else Blythe already gave.
Blythe moved in to keep Astoria from living alone.
She could’ve stayed in the Pillar with every comfort, but she sacrificed that for Astoria.
Astoria wouldn’t have survived the first winter after without Blythe’s gentle presence at her side.
Blythe did most of the shopping for the household and tended to it when Astoria didn’t have the strength.
It was more than anyone should’ve asked of another.
Astoria blinked back the well of tears that pooled in her eyes and squeezed Blythe’s hand.
“I do. How many new patients did you get today?”
“Too many. The Rendering took five more today. Their corpses weren’t yet cold when another fifteen cases came in. The Pillar is running out of room to put all the sick. I only came home to eat. I need to get back within the hour.”
Astoria took the steaming kettle off the fire and filled their cups with the boiling water.
The Rendering Sickness came on suddenly and tore the soul from the body.
It melted those who suffered from the inside out, and cases came on by surprise.
Children, the elderly, and adults were all equally affected.
It did not seem to matter if one had contact with the sick or not.
It struck like a snake, and once it claimed someone, it did not release them.