Page 2 of Broken Lands

Maybe it was modest to the fae from Danann, but here… it was more than most families earned in a month. Most of those who wanted to apply couldn’t afford to. It wasn’t really an inclusive process.

It had taken me almost two years to save the application fee. Two years of working my ass off, but I’d saved enough and applied this year. It was only one way into the city. It was the last place James had been and therefore the first place I should look. So, I’d completed all the test requirements, paid the application fee, given my blood sample, and had heard absolutely nothing back. Zip. Zilch. Zero. Nada.

Feeling a renewed sense of disappointment, I nudged open the greenhouse door with my foot, placing the tray of seedlings on a worktable to my right, and made a beeline for my tomatoes. They were my pride and joy. I was the only one in the community who had grown any seedlings this year. If I was lucky, I’d have extra to trade in the markets. A bit of wishful thinking, for sure. The harvests grew smaller each year, a major concern for the three human communities surrounding Danann. We were all worried about the soil quality, particularly how it continued to deteriorate, but for the moment, we had no answers.

Humans had fought war after war after war, damaging the land as they went. Before we reached the point of no return, a group of fae had traveled from Faerie to Earth. They fought against our kind for control of the Earth and won. They promised to heal our planet. To make the lands bountiful again. They promised us luscious green rainforests, clear skies and fresh air.

Nothing has changed. In the last fifteen years, they’ve delivered on exactly zero of their promises.

Lifting my fingers, I run my hand along the fragile vines, slowly winding their way up the trellis. My fingers tingled at the touch. I had always felt at one with nature. I felt a sense of calm surrounded by these living things I didn’t feel anywhere else. The greenhouse was my happy place.

Bending down, I grabbed the large watering can kept under the wooden garden table.

“Riley!” someone shouted, and I startled, narrowly avoiding bumping my head. “Riley, come quick!”

I straightened and started for the door. Who needed me so urgently? And what for? Miss Hatley should have left with the children by now. The whole town was expected to gather at the ascension ceremony today. It was a big show, followed by a celebration of the fae’s generosity. I rolled my eyes at the thought just as Sarie came barrelling through the door. She was a sight, her cheeks flushed, auburn hair falling free from her bun, her apron twisted to the side.

“What is it? Is everyone okay?” I asked, panic rising in my chest as I took in her disheveled appearance.

“Everyone is fine,” she puffed, catching her breath. “You need to read this, Riley. It just came today. I’ve run from town to catch you in time.” She handed me a heavy parchment envelope.

My name, Riley Embers, was scrawled across the front in fancy writing, fancier than anything I’d ever seen before. The ink was dark, indented against the thick cream paper. I traced my finger along the looping scroll, wondering at who could have sent this to me.

“Don’t just stare at it, Riley. Open the damn thing. I didn’t run all the way here for you to keep me in suspense.” Sarie sat herself down on the stool, pulling her wild curls back from her face. She looked at the letter pointedly and I had to bite back a laugh. Sarie was another orphan of war, a few years older than me. She’d also been raised in the orphanage and now worked as a kitchen hand and maid. She was exuberant and dramatic and the closest thing I had to a friend.

“Alright, alright, keep your panties on.” I said, caving and opening the envelope. I was curious about what was inside, nervous too. Maybe it was connected to James? I’d written to a few fae in the city, pleading for help to find him. So far, no one had responded.

The letter inside was made of the same heavy parchment that spoke of wealth and waste. Unfolding it, I began to read.

My mouth fell open as I read and reread the words written on the page before me. My heart began to beat at a frantic pace as I realized this was the opportunity I’d been waiting for.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. I have to go. I have to go now.” Dropping the letter, I sprinted from the greenhouse, leaving Sarie staring after me in bewilderment. She’d work it out soon enough. There wasn’t a second to spare.

My stomach churned as I raced through the grounds, worried that I wouldn’t make it in time. I had to get to town, needed to get to the ceremony as quickly as possible.

I’d been offered a chance, a pathway, to find my brother and make sure he was okay. There was no way I could miss it. No, I needed to make it in time and check in.

I’d been chosen as a candidate. But that was only the first hurdle. Now I had to make the fae believe I’d be a valuable addition to their community. Make them choose me as the candidate to ascend today. Then I could continue my search for James from the inside.

Time slowed as I ran. I had a feeling that making it to the ceremony in time might be the difference between never knowing what happened to my brother or saving his life.

The deafening clang of the ascension gong rang through the air and vibrated up my legs as I sprinted through the empty cobblestone streets of Sommers. Every year it was struck five times, a minute apart, signaling the start of the ceremony. On the fifth strike, the candidates presented themselves to the judges as the entire town looked on.

I am so fucking late.

I pushed myself harder, pumping my arms and legs as fast as I could, my muscles screaming in protest. Racing past the familiar shop fronts, my breaths came in quick gasps, my lungs burning as I struggled to maintain speed.

The markets were deserted, the usual smells of fresh bread, fruit and vegetables missing. Stalls were empty of their usual wares, with nobody out selling this morning. Everyone must have made their way to the ceremony. I started to panic, my heart beating frantically in my chest.

I can’t be the last to arrive. What if I’m late for presentation? It’s not an option.

The town square loomed just around the corner. I had to make it in time. I had no idea why the letter advising that I’d been made a candidate had only just arrived. Others had known for weeks.

Shit, I hope I’m not too late.

Another strike rings out, louder than the first, the crash of it shaking the cobblestone road beneath my feet. I skidded around the corner and spotted the green candidate tent up ahead.

Relief flooded through me at the sight and realization that I might actually make it in time.

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