“Truth. Wouldn’t mind a bit o’ luck with all this talk of Kin’jals and war and whatnot,” another said.
“Here he’ere!”
After a last prayer to the gods, Apramor dismissed the congregation, and the villagers filtered out one by one. Vir waited until most of them had left, then sneaked down and began putting away the cushions. Apramor watched on in silence until Vir finished.
“Did you find today’s congregation useful, Vir?” the priest asked with a knowing look.
“I know why you chose today to tell Janak’s story,” Vir said. “I dunno how you knew, but I needed this. Thank you.”
“I am relieved,” Apramor replied, his deep-set eyes twinkling. “Celebrate this day, Vir. You only come of age once, after all.”
“Maybe. Father doesn’t really like making a scene, though.”
Apramor’s gentle expression melted into a frown. “Hold your head high, Vir. Ignore the others. Your eyes and your complexion do not make you any less than the rest of us. Like Janak, you merely have your own path to follow. You need only to find it!”
“Thank you, sir,” Vir replied, but being accepted by the village would take a monumental feat. It wouldn’t happen soon, that was for sure. Not unless something cataclysmic happened first.
The priest rummaged through his robe. “That reminds me, I almost forgot to—”
“Moooooorning.” The priest was interrupted by a girl with flowing red hair who’d tottered into the temple. She rubbed her eyes with one hand and precariously balanced a small brown box in the other.
“You look like you just got out of bed!” Vir laughed.
“S’cuz I did,” she replied with a yawn. “Here. For you.” Maiya thrust the box toward Vir.
He grabbed the package before it could fall. “What’s this?” he asked, hefting the weighty item.
“Your birthday cake! Was up all night baking it for you,” she said with another enormous yawn.
“What! You baked me a cake?” his voice cracked. “I mean, I couldn’t have—I… Maiya, I’ve never even had a cake for my birthday. With the famine going on, this is—”
The girl cut off his words with a hug, leaving Vir awkwardly balancing the cake while she embraced him.
“Happy Birthday, Vir. I know it isn’t much, but feel better?”
“How did you… Is it that obvious?” He’d never understood how his best friend could read him so well.
Maiya didn’t respond. She just hugged him tighter.
“Thank you so much,” he managed to say. Something wet rolled down his cheek. He hid his face, embarrassed.
With the famine, food costs had gone through the roof. Not even Apramor had this kind of coin to spare. It truly was an extravagant gift.
“Why don’t you two run along and enjoy that cake? I’ll wrap up here,” Apramor said. “Oh, and as I was saying before my daughter so rudely interrupted, here you are. This week’s payment.”
Vir took the bag of Imperium coppers from Apramor. Heavy, he thought. “This is too much, sir.”
“My birthday gift to you. You’re officially an adult now, Vir. You have earned this.”
Maiya grabbed Vir’s hand, all traces of her sleepiness gone. “Let’s go! You’re helping your old man in the woods today, aren’t you? I’ll tag along! And I wanna know how the cake is. No lying and saying it’s good when it’s not, you hear?”
Vir nodded, smiling. “Of course,” he lied. He’d never say it was bad, even if it was.
No matter how much the others disliked him, he could always rely on Maiya and her family to welcome him. And Rudvik and Neel. That was enough.
Maiya rushed out of the temple, dragging Vir behind her as he gingerly balanced the cake box.
“And they’re off,” Aliscia said, having emerged from the back room.
“You shouldn’t encourage him, Lisci,” said Apramor.
His wife tilted her head. “Meaning?”
“That boy will never know magic,” the priest said. “I only pray the day comes when he realizes he doesn’t need it.”
Aliscia shook her head. “What he needs now is hope, Apra. If you squash his dreams, I fear you will rob him of something precious. Something irreplaceable.”
Apramor gazed at Vir’s back, his lips taut. “I’m afraid I’ve seen dreams die far too many times to place my faith in hope.”
3THE VILLAGE LIFE OF AN ASHBORN PRIMORDIAL
“You sure you wanna be here?” Vir asked as he walked through the ancient Godshollow with Maiya and Neel.
Their boots crunched on the dry leaves blanketing the forest floor. Thousand-year-old trees the width of Vir’s home towered over them, disappearing into the sky. He breathed it all in—the musky scent of fallen leaves and ancient bark, the sweet morning dew. The forest never failed to fill him with inner peace.
Maiya, on the other hand, was not at peace. Not at all.
She currently had both arms wrapped around his left bicep, clinging to him like a lost puppy. Though she was carrying his gear, so maybe not exactly like a lost puppy. A lost Ash’va, then, he thought, snickering. His personal beast of burden. Vir shook the thought. That was incredibly mean of him.
“W-well, you’ve heard the stories about the Ghost of Godshollow,” she whispered, peering into the surrounding woods.
“Just a myth,” Vir lied, ducking beneath a branch that had fallen decades before he was even born. “If there really was a white ghost, father and the other lumberjacks would’ve seen it by now, don’t you think?”
He’d heard demonic voices in these woods for as long as he could remember. Occasional whispers, nonsensical words, and sometimes even cries of panic. He’d learned to keep this information to himself. The last thing he needed was to give the villagers more reasons to label him a weirdo.
And now, the new voices in his head whispered on top of the old ones. Reinforcing them, augmenting them somehow. The voices were greatest near the mighty Godhollows. As he’d seen in the temple, they’d grown louder when he approached Magic Candle and other powered utility orbs. Unpowered orbs didn’t have the same effect. Notably, the nature of the voices were different between the orbs and the Godhollows. As if they were saying different words.
Maiya narrowed her eyes. “Maybe the ghost doesn’t want to be found. Did you ever think about that? Did you? Bet you didn’t.”
Neel barked, as if he agreed with her.
Vir rolled his eyes. This wasn’t the first time Maiya had accompanied him into the Godshollow, despite her fear of the fabled ghost. He realized years ago that she actually enjoyed the sense of danger. And how could he blame her? Thrills were few in a backwater place like Brij. That suited Vir just fine, but his friend craved a bit more excitement.
“I’ve been here more times than I can count, Maiya. The worst thing that ever happened to me was a broken ankle. Nothing’s going to happen. Don’t worry,” he repeated for the tenth time.
They soon arrived at a clearing in the forest where his father and a handful of other lumberjacks were currently working. Ash’va and wagons dotted the work site, and suddenly, Maiya’s fears seemed to melt away.
She really was born a city girl, Vir thought.
“Ah, Vir! Good timing, boy,” a great bear of a man in dirty overalls shouted, hailing him with an arm the size of a tree trunk. “Come help me out here, will ya? Oh? Your friend’s ’ere too, eh?”
“Ho there, Uncle!” Maiya said, running up to the large, bearded man who beamed at her words.
“Not yer uncle!” he grumbled, but his smile betrayed him. “Here to do some lumberjackin’, Crimson?” he said, using the monicker he’d given her many years ago.