The sun was bright in the sky as I reached the entrance to the village. Tall yellow grasses shushed in the wind. A guard was posted by the gate, but they only gave me a cursory glance and nod as I walked through. I don’t think they even noticed the blade strapped under my cloak.
Most of the buildings were made of wood, heavily aged by the sun and wind. The streets were dirt-packed, and I didn’t see any of the mechanical wonders I’d encountered back in Olondria. Still, the people were what was important, and they seemed happy. Enticing smells drifted through open kitchen doors as I walked past, and children played games in the street.
I watched as a very young child, just learning how to walk, chased after a group of older kids. They stumbled and fell into the dirt, a confused expression drifting over their face. They turned back toward a house, where an elderly woman sat, weaving something out of strands of long grass. She smiled at the child. “Better get back up now. You’re alright.”
Taking her word as gospel, the toddler teetered back onto their feet. Their knees and feet were dirt-stained, but they paid no mind as they tottered after the rest of the group. I smiled as they moved past me before noticing the elder’s attention had turned to me.
“Good day,” I dipped my head in her direction.
She examined me through wrinkled eyes for a moment before returning the gesture. “Good day. Are you here for the festival?”
“Just passing through, though I may stay for the celebration. It’s been some time since I attended a festival. Do they make spiced bread for it?”
“Oh yes. They start on it at dawn every year.”
“Well then I’ll have to stay. It’s been years since I had any decent spiced bread.”
“Sen, stop eating so much. You won’t be able to start your journey if you feel sick.”
I ignored my mother’s chastisement and shoved another bite into my mouth. The bread was crisp and flavorful on my tongue. I swallowed and chased it down with the remainder of the cup of wine I’d been granted before heading out. “But mother, you always say a walk after a big meal is a good thing.”
I was seventeen and old enough to know to duck before my mother’s hand cuffed the back of my head. She wasn’t really angry; I knew she was trying to hide her worry. She didn’t want me leaving the village to explore the unknown, but she also wouldn’t dare refuse the call of the council.
I gave her a cheeky grin before pulling her into a tight embrace. “I have to have my fill so I never forget the taste of your cooking. I bet I won’t find anything like it anywhere else.”
I felt her stiffen at my words. Then she squeezed me tight, burying her face in my cloak to hide the tears I knew were there.
We broke apart as members of the council approached us. The whole town was present, throwing a proper celebration to send me off. The chosen warrior. Me. It took all my willpower to not expose my glee as the council neared. I tried to look serious and mature. By the way some of the council member’s mouths twitched, I don’t think I was successful.
Oskar, the eldest of the council, stepped forward. His humble but clean gray robe matched his stoic expression. “Young Sen, it is time for you to head off on your journey.” Any remaining noise died down as everyone turned to listen. “You have been chosen to journey far beyond the familiar borders of our land. You must seek out the god Hiro. Beg his forgiveness and plead with him to bless our village once more.” Oskar’s voice shook for a moment, eyes glistening. “We have paid penance for our sins for many years. Please, ask Hiro to return, so all may be well again.”
I didn’t have to fake my seriousness after that. The weight of my journey truly fell on my shoulders for the first time. I looked around at the familiar faces of my village. We’d feasted today, but how many days of nothing had we endured? Another bad harvest would be the end of us.
I turned back to the council, my jaw and resolve set. “I’m ready.”
The council members nodded. Oskar motioned with one hand, and they parted, revealing Tin, my oldest friend. Despite the celebration, he still wore the apron that had become his uniform ever since he went to apprentice with Jirou, the blacksmith.
He stepped forward, his expression mirroring my own. “My master made this, but I wanted to give it to you.” He held out his hands, a sheathed blade between them. I reached out and grasped the leather. With my other hand, I pulled the blade free, admiring the quality of the work. It wasn’t a long blade, about two feet, but it was sharp, and I knew it would serve me well.
I grasped the hilt tightly as I slid the blade back into its sheath. Holding Tin’s gaze, I said, “Thank you.” He didn’t reply with words, but gave a nod before hurrying away. Then others came forward, handing me a pack filled with food and other necessities for travel. I already wore the new cloak that had been made for me. It was warm and would both protect me from the sun’s heat and the chill of night.
I followed the council members to the end of the village. Others fell in behind us, the festive air replaced with a somber mood. As I stood at the gates, I turned to look at my mother one last time. I intended to smile and reassure her, but one look at her face, and I felt my own tears threatening at the corners of my eyes. I swallowed them back and forced myself to bow.
I took one last look at everyone watching me. “I will make you proud. I will bring our salvation.” Nods and scattered cheers in return. Steadying my breath, I turned my back and left my home for the first time.
It only took me a few minutes to reach the village center. I could see small banners hanging off the roofs of the village here. A wide, empty space encircled what looked like a large bonfire, still being prepared. Several tables had been dragged out into the open area, preparations for what I assumed must be some sort of feast.
The sight was making me nostalgic. It was hard to bear on an empty stomach. I stopped one of the men who was setting up and asked for directions to the market. I would grab some supplies before the festivities began.
I could never have imagined how difficult the journey would be. The first leg was alright, going through lands I was familiar with surrounding the village. I even made it to the next town without difficulty. I was quite proud of myself for making it, a new record for the farthest I’d ever traveled.
After that, however, I learned the lessons of the road. Animals broke into my pack while I slept and ate my food. I struggled to find water, and, when I came across a somewhat brackish puddle, I decided to risk it. I spent the rest of the day and the following night paying for it.
The nights grew colder, and I wasn’t always successful in making a fire. Eventually, after stumbling into a mountain town near the end of fall, I was forced to stop and rest. I stumbled into the first inn I came across and begged for a room.
“How many nights?” the inn-keeper had asked. She was an older woman, but not old enough to be an elder. Her brown hair was pulled back in a low bun, and her face held no room for humor.
“Just one night,” I said. “I need to keep moving in the morning.”
She looked me up and down, one eyebrow raising higher and higher. “You headed north?” I nodded. “Wearing that?”
I looked down at my clothes. They were dirty but still whole. Perfectly reasonable traveling clothes. I couldn’t see what the problem was. “Um, yes?”
The inn-keeper threw up her hands. “Absolutely not. You’ll catch your death in the cold. I can tell you’re from the south. Well, I’ll tell you now, our mountain winters are a different beast. You wouldn’t last a night out there.”
“I can’t afford new clothes.”
“Then you’ll need to stay in town until spring. Or head back south, quickly.”
I shuffled uncomfortably. “I can’t go back, but…” My near-empty coin purse patted my leg. “I can’t afford to stay that long,” I finished in a quieter voice.
The inn-keeper regarded me for a long moment. “Can you chop wood?”
I gave her a confused look. “Yes?”
“Can you carry heavy boxes? Clean a table?” I nodded yes. The inn-keeper clapped her hands together. “Then you can work for room and board. I bet’cha could find some odd jobs around town as well. Put a little more coin in your pocket and maybe afford some more suitable clothes.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but the inn-keeper, whose name I would come to learn was Mara, was already pushing me up the stairs. It reminded me of living with my mother.
Despite the difficulties of travel, I hated being stuck in one place for such a long time. The days dragged by, made all the more dreary by how little time the sun spent in the sky. I helped Mara with the inn, but even that was not enough to occupy me. Eventually, she started sending me on jobs outside the inn. “You’ll need some coin in your pocket come spring,” she said. I was pretty sure she just didn’t want me sulking around the in all day.
As I spent my days chopping wood and hauling boxes, my mind turned to my journey’s purpose. I had found no trace of Hiro since setting out. I didn’t even know if I was headed in the right direction. I’d simply started walking north and had kept roughly that direction over the months. What if I should have gone south? Or east?
Eventually, my worries breached my mind, and I found myself confiding in Mara. “I’ve heard a lot of stories about gods. Don’t put much stock in them,” she said, wiping down a mug after the dinner rush.
“This one is very real,” I insisted. “It comes from my village. His name was Hiro.” Mara continued wiping down mugs, her rag growing ever grimier. “Please, do you have any idea where he could be.”
Mara sighed. “I can’t say I’ve heard of a Hiro, but you could go east to Umberville. I’ve heard there’s a grand library there. You might be able to find some information.”
I deflated. “I’m not much of a reader.”
Mara snorted. “Then I suggest you become one.” She put up a hand to stop my interruption. “You could spend decades traveling and not see everything there is to see. If you’re looking for someone, you need more than blind luck to find them. You said this person was a god? There must be legends about them then. Ask around, listen to the songs people sing. Gather some clues, then find your direction.”
I stared into my own half-empty mug. The council hadn’t given much guidance on how to find Hiro. I was embarrassed to admit that asking for help hadn’t occurred to me; I had been too caught up in the idea of being the one to return our god. If I moved through the world like a shadow, how could I hope to accomplish anything? I drained my drink before thunking it down on the counter. “Thank you, Mara. That was wise.”
“Hmph. No need to sound surprised.” She held out a hand for the mug.
I started to hand it over but hesitated. “Are you going to use a different rag?” I wasn’t quite fast enough to dodge said rag slapping into my face.
The sun had grown low by the time I returned to the village center. I followed clusters of people carrying food and drink. There didn’t seem to be many outsiders in the village for the festival, but I hoped the amount of coin I’d spent in the market had earned me enough favor to attend.
The tables I’d seen earlier were now piled with food and bottles of what I assumed must be beer or some type of alcohol. People were sitting to eat or milling about, chatting with each other in the dimming light. I stopped by a table and asked for a drink. “I’m happy to pay,” I said, jingling my coin purse.
The person handling the drink smiled. “No need. It’s a celebration.” They poured a gold-brown liquid into a wooden cup and handed it to me. I took a long sip. It had a light, wheaty taste to it. Not bad, especially after several days on the road. I gave my thanks and headed off to see if I could find the spiced bread the elder had talked about.
As I wandered, I noticed the bonfire at the center of the clearing had grown significantly. Above a circle of dried branches ready for burning was something human-shaped. Curious, I drew closer. Indeed, it was a series of twigs, grasses, and other flammable materials tied into the shape of a person. Bracelets of cord and rock had been looped around the wrists. Looking closer, I noticed the rocks had been smeared with some sort of blue paint. My stomach twisted. I turned my attention to the effigy’s head. Only the faintest hint of eyes and a mouth had been painted across the sticks, but a red diamond stood out clear on what I assumed was supposed to be the forehead.
It was an effigy of Hiro.
When spring arrived, I took Mara’s advice and set out for Umberville. It took me two months to get there, and another to convince the library to let me access their archives. In return, I sat with a professor from the library’s patron university and spoke at length about some of the cultural practices of my village. She seemed disappointed that I didn’t know the exact recipe for the fish stew we enjoyed every winter, but I offered her what I could.
The stacks of scrolls and books made me dizzy. I’d pick up one to find descriptions of plants I’d never heard of, then another would contain political speeches from a city farther south than my own home. Remembering Mara’s words, I stopped one of the attendants and asked for assistance. I was relieved to discover there was an order to the books, and they led me over to their sections on religions and myths.
“I’m not sure where exactly any writings on a “Hiro” would be, but they’d probably be in one of these sections,” they said with a smile. I thanked them before turning to the (only slightly) less intimidating stacks before me.
I hadn’t lied about not being a reader. There weren’t many written books in my village. My mother made sure I learned to read, but there wasn’t much material to encourage taking it up as a hobby. I’d always loved the stories the elders told though. As I started to dig through the books, I found that many contained their own stories, many from places I’d never heard of. I found myself getting sidetracked reading tales of heroes and gods that had nothing to do with Hiro.
One day, as I flipped through a half-memoir, half-collection of stories by a rather accomplished traveler, I saw the name I’d been looking for.
In a small village to the west, known by the name of Shearo, there are tales of a mighty god. He is said to have blessed the village with abundance during lean times. When the crops failed, Hiro would beseech the heavens and summon forth grain to feed the people. The village prospered and praised Hiro’s miraculous feats.
However, one day Hiro vanished from the village. The reason why is unclear, though many stories say the village had turned to sin and, as punishment, Hiro abandoned them.
It felt strange to see my village’s name written in a book so far from home. I ran my finger over it, thinking of my mother’s face. There were no further mentions of Hiro or my village, but there were tales of mystical places, locations where magic swelled and drew the attention of gods and humans alike. Finding the attendant who had originally helped me, I asked if they knew where I could purchase a map.
I had found the spiced bread. It wasn’t exactly like the kind from my home, but it was delicious in its own right. I bought an entire loaf and sat down to eat it, along with a second cup of beer. To my right, a group of children circled around an elder as they began to relay a story. I found myself leaning closer to listen.
“Long ago, our village was plagued by attacks from a demon. This demon did not kidnap children or set homes aflame like some demons do. This one was crueler. They would watch the farmers carry in the harvest. When the wheat had been cut and stored, the demon would swoop in and steal it. No amount of guards could stop them. No one could even catch them. The demon was clever, and it used its magicks to whisk the harvest away. Then it laughed as those same farmers starved in their beds over winter.
One day, a young girl had had enough. Her name was Njeri, and she was both brave and clever. Near the end of the harvest, she snuck into the storerooms and buried herself within the grain. Her only weapon was a dagger. When the demon came to whisk away the wheat, they whisked Njeri along with in.
Inside the demon’s lair, Njeri pounced. With a flash of her dagger, she sliced off the demon’s hand. They howled in agony and begged for mercy. Njeri bound them, ensuring they would never harm our village again. After she returned, a great festival was held to celebrate her victory. And every year, we continue to give thanks to Njeri while cursing the demon who once plagued our town.”
The children clapped and cheered. It was a story they must have heard many times before, but that didn’t make it less exciting. Not with the smell of good food in the air and the giant, as yet unlit bonfire waiting behind them. I realized that even I had stopped eating to better listen.
I looked down at the piece of spiced bread in my hand. I ran a thumb across the edge, watching a few crumbs fall to the ground.
I found Hiro behind a waterfall.
I’d marked a map with all the places known to be heavy with magic, and, one by one, I’d searched them. If I’d thought my first year of traveling was difficult, this was another level. As I neared each location, I found that strange creatures were also drawn in by the pull of magic. Or maybe they’d been regular creatures once, and the magic had changed them. It didn’t much matter when one was trying to eat my head. The blade Tin had given me proved itself time and again, but I didn’t get away scar free.
In the wilderness, the man-made calendar ceased to matter. All that mattered was day and night, season after season. Whenever I walked into a town, I was shocked to learn how much time had passed. It was just after my journey had reached the three-year mark that I made it to Freesia Falls.
The falls themselves were beautiful—not the largest waterfall, according to some merchants I’d spoken with on the road—but the water had a faint purple glimmer to it. The air pulsed with magic, and a fresh, floral scent wafted on the wind, though I couldn’t see any flowers. The falls let off into a pool of crystal water, which I’d been assured was safe to drink, so long as I only took what was needed. It was as I bent to refill my waterskin that I noticed the cave behind the sheet of shimmering water.
I approached carefully, mindful of the slick stones beneath my feet and the possibility of something unfriendly waiting to greet me. Instead, I found a cave of smooth, blueish stone. Farther in, where the water couldn’t reach, I noticed a table with paper and stacks of books. Small lights like blue fireflies floated in the air, giving off more light than their size would suggest.
I walked deeper into the cave, admiring my surroundings while keeping my blade in hand. Despite my caution, the voice that spoke caused me to nearly jump out of my skin.
“Hello.”
I turned back to where I’d entered the cave. Framed by the glimmering water stood a man. His face was weathered, a scar running down the right side. Small wrinkles wrapped around his eyes. His hands were clasped patiently in front of him, showing off the bracelets of bright blue stone he wore. On his forehead, a red diamond was painted.
“Hiro?” I could barely speak, I was so shocked.
He gave me a sad smile. “Ah, you’re from Shearo.” His eyes looked down to my blade. I practically threw it across the cave floor. Falling to my knees, I remembered my mission.
“Oh great Hiro, please forgive our village. We did not mean to sin. We did not mean to turn astray. We have repented these many years since you left us. Please, come home to us so that we may be whole again.”
I could barely hear Hiro’s footsteps over the beating of my own heart. I felt his fingers touch the top of my head and held my breath. “It was not your sins that led me to leave. And please do not speak to me as if I were a god. I am only a man, and a foolish one at that.”
I raised my head to look at Hiro’s eyes. They were so much older than the rest of him. How could they not be the eyes of a god? “I don’t understand.”
Hiro only smiled again. “I take it Oskar sent you.” He motioned for me to stand as he walked over to the desk. He took a seat and turned back to me. “I’m sorry, but I cannot go home with you.”
“Why not?” Panic and shock and confusion swirled inside me. “Please, we need you. The village has been suffering since you left. We need you to bless the harvest again.”
Hiro winced at that, like an old wound had been struck. He held up a hand to stop my flow of words, then pointed to another chair farther back in the cave. “Bring that over, and I will tell you everything.”
“I was born in Shearo, the same as you. Times were hard, and I was often hungry. As a young man, I snuck into the council’s chambers, hoping to find some food they had hidden away for their own use.
Instead, I found an old book. I opened it, but I couldn’t read it. However, I felt pulled to the book. My fingers scanned the pages, like the very ink was pulling me in. I was so captivated that I didn’t notice the elder come in behind me. He was surprised to see me, and even more surprised to see me studying the book. He asked if I understood it. I told him no, but that it felt powerful.
The elder studied me for a time, then flipped the book to a different page. He told me to try reading it. I did my best. Though I didn’t understand the words, my tongue understood the sound of them. My whole body seemed to tingle as I read. When I reached the end of the page, there was this rushing sensation, like all the air had been sucked out of the room. Then, an apple, perfectly ripe, appeared on the table between us. The elder squeezed me shoulder and told me that I would save the village.”
Hiro smiled at that, his eyes far away in memory.
“I began to practice. I could harness the power of the book, but I struggled to understand the words. However, my friend, Oskar, managed to decipher their meaning. He would translate the texts for me, and together we looked for a way to help our people.
One day, Oskar came to me, saying he’d found the solution. There was a spell for creating food from nothing—the first one I’d ever cast. But Oskar explained that the volume could be expanded with proper preparation. Together, we formulated a ritual to ensure our village would have enough food for the winter.
The first time we attempted it, I thought I was going to die. I’d never channeled that much magic at once. I could feel it changing me from the inside out, but once I’d started chanting, it was difficult to stop. Once the spell was complete, grain flooded the storehouse I stood in front of. I remember Oskar cheering before I collapsed.
When I woke up, the whole town was celebrating. It was the first winter I could remember where no one died of hunger.”
Hiro’s eyes watered at the memory, but his expression grew dark.
“I did the ritual again the next year. And the next. It was tiring, but I grew used to it, and it took me less time to recover. While Oskar insisted I looked the same, I was sure the magic had altered me in some way. That didn’t matter to me though, so long as my family was fed and happy.
One year, after I summoned the grain to fill our stores, I thought I saw a mouse scurrying through it. When I moved to inspect it, a young woman jumped out of the storehouse. She cut my face and called me a demon.” Hiro drew a finger over the scar on his cheek. “She swore she would stop at nothing to end my reign of terror.”
“Wait,” I interrupted. “You accidentally created a woman?”
Hiro’s mouth was tight. “Not created. Summoned.”
“I held up my hands and insisted that I didn’t know what the woman was talking about. To her credit, she chose to hear me out. I think she was expecting someone with long horns and sharp teeth, and my very human appearance confused her.
I told her that I was doing a spell to create food for my village, so we could survive the winter without struggle. She argued that I wasn’t creating the food, I was stealing it.”
“But how could you steal it? Wasn’t it a ritual to create food? How can you steal something you made?”
“That’s what I thought, and I told the woman as much, but she insisted that the grain was stolen. I was confused and tired, so I decided to bring her to Oskar. She told me that her name was Njeri, and that the food stores in her village had been stolen year after year by a demon. This year, she had decided to hide within the grain to catch them in the act. Instead, she found me.
When I brought her to Oskar, I expected he’d be as surprised as me. He was definitely surprised to see Njeri, but her story did not phase him like I expected. Growing suspicious, I demanded he tell me the truth. That’s when Oskar revealed that we hadn’t been doing a ritual of creation, but a ritual of teleportation.”
Hiro paused to let his words sink in. And sink they did, straight into my mind, shattering everything I thought I knew. “No.”
Hiro nodded. “I hadn’t been creating food from nothing. I’d been stealing it from another village, leaving strangers to starve so my family could have their fill. I was furious. So was Njeri. Oskar argued that our duty was to Shearo alone, and that we couldn’t worry about some other village. In a rage, Njeri cut his hand off with her dagger.”
I thought of the elder Oskar I had grown up hearing stories from. The man who’d chosen me for this quest, who’d entrusted me to save the village. Who’d often rub the stump of his left hand and stare at the horizon, lost in thought.
Hiro continued his story. “I seized the moment and grabbed the book, then fled with Njeri. I explained to her that while I could use the book, I couldn’t actually read it. We traveled back to her village. I was horrified by what I saw. Starving, emaciated faces. It was the mirror of the village of my childhood. Except this time, I knew I was the cause of their suffering.
“Njeri didn’t reveal the truth to her people. Instead, she claimed she had slain the demon, and that I was a traveler she had met on the road home. I don’t know if they believed her at first, but I helped sell the tale. One night, I snuck into their storehouse and repeated the ritual. I brought back all the grain I had stolen that year. The villagers cried when they saw their food miraculously returned. I cried too, because I knew my village would suffer a hard winter because of my decision.”
I took in Hiro’s words, absorbing every piece of them. My eyes landed on a thick book on the table beside him. It gave off a faint glow that reminded me of the waterfall. “Is that it? The book.”
Hiro nodded. He ran his fingers over the cover. “I still can’t understand the words. I think that’s how the book is designed. It requires more than one person to access its power.” He turned to look at me. “I still want to help my village, but I can’t risk Oskar manipulating someone else into abusing this magic. I love Shearo, with all my heart. At the same time, I cannot condemn innocents for the sake of those I love.”
I swallowed. “So what are you going to do?”
“I will continue what I’ve been doing for the last several decades. I will search for a solution that will aide both my home and Njeri’s.”
“Is that possible?”
“I have to believe that it is.” Hiro patted the book. “I do not believe that I am the only one who can use this, which means Oskar can’t be the only one who can read it. When I left her village, Njeri came with me. She took samples of the writing in the book, and she’s been looking for someone to decipher it, as well as looking for any other ways to help our homes.”
“Wait, Njeri is working with you now? I thought she hated you.”
“She did, but when she realized I didn’t know I was harming her village, she softened. She understood what it meant to want to help the people you love, and she had no interest in letting people suffer if there was a way to stop it.”
I rubbed my palms into my eyes. My head was still spinning, trying to absorb this new history. I could have cursed Hiro or accused him of lying, but I didn’t. Something in me knew he was telling the truth. “What do I do now?”
“What do you want to do?”
I thought about it. “I still want to help my village. The winter is hard, and a bad harvest can spell disaster. But I don’t want to steal other people’s food.” I paused, mulling over my words. “Looking for you, I’ve learned and experienced so much. Maybe I can help find a solution.”
Hiro smiled.
Njeri’s village erupted into cheers as the bonfire was lit. I watched the effigy of Hiro as the flames licked up its wooden body. I kept my eyes on the face as fire consumed it, remembering the kind smile and sad eyes I’d met in the cave. I watched until nothing but a conflagration was left, and then I turned to watch the villagers. People were dancing and singing. Laughter abounded. Their faces did not have the hollow look Hiro had seen all those years ago. Life was hard, but they had recovered from the worst of the theft.
Eventually, I turned away from the bonfire and headed back towards the inn where I’d purchased a room for the night. Inside, I lit a candle and pulled out my journal. I wrote down what I had seen and experienced in the village. Then I flipped to the beginning, reading the stories I’d grown up hearing as a child, then what I’d learned from Hiro in the cave. I was still missing Njeri’s perspective. I hadn’t managed to cross paths with her during my travels, but I’d heard she was somewhere to the west, too far to make it home in time for the festival. I planned to head that direction in the morning.
I wanted to hear Oskar’s thoughts too, but that was more treacherous. I carried samples of the book’s writing—though, like Hiro, I could not understand it—and it was possible that Oskar would try to use them to his own ends. For now, I decided to reach out to my home in another way, by writing down what I had seen and learned in my years of travel. The people of Shearo deserve to know the truth. We cannot go back, but that does not mean we are trapped in the present. We will find a way forward, together.