Chapter 1 — The Day the Sky Felt Heavy

The summer sun bore down on the cracked earth, its light almost white against the dusty brown of the village road. Heat shimmered above the ground, warping the view of the distant hills where the windmills creaked lazily. Children’s laughter drifted faintly from somewhere far away, but here in the middle of the square, there was no joy—only the sharp sound of mocking voices.

Saren stood alone, her back pressed against the rough wall of the grain storage shed. She was seventeen, thin enough that her patched dress seemed too loose for her frame. Her hands gripped the hem tightly as the taunts rained down.

“Look at her,” one boy snickered, tossing a pebble at her feet. “Too weak to even carry a bucket of water, but still eats more than she works.”

“She’s cursed,” another girl said with a smirk. “Ever since her mother died, bad luck follows her. No wonder her father’s sick in bed.”

The words stung, but Saren kept her head down. She had learned long ago that talking back only made things worse. Her father, once a strong farmer, now lay bedridden after a lingering fever left him unable to walk without pain. Since then, the family’s small plot had withered—half from neglect, half from the poor soil that had been exhausted long ago.

The village was unforgiving. Those who couldn’t pull their weight were left behind, and kindness was a luxury few could afford. Saren’s mother had been the only one who defended her, but that was before illness took her two winters ago. Now, Saren faced the world alone, except for the quiet presence of her father in their small hut.

The group finally grew bored, scattering like dust in the wind. Saren stayed still for a moment longer, staring at the deep cracks in the ground. Her chest felt heavy, not from their words, but from the quiet truth—they were right about one thing. She was weak. No matter how hard she tried to fetch water, weed the fields, or barter at the market, she could never keep up. And with her father’s condition worsening, she didn’t know how much longer they could survive.

By the time she returned home, the sun was beginning to dip, casting long shadows over the withered stalks that once promised harvest. Inside, the air smelled faintly of herbs. Her father lay on the bed, his breathing shallow but steady.

“You’re late,” he murmured, a gentle smile breaking through his tired face.

Saren forced one back. “I stayed to fetch more water. The well’s running low.”

He didn’t need to know about the bullying. He never did.

Later that night, as the moon rose pale and distant, Saren sat outside, hugging her knees. The sky stretched endlessly above her, stars peeking through the haze. She wondered what it would feel like to live somewhere the soil was rich, where people didn’t go hungry, where a girl like her could be more than just a burden.

She never noticed the shadow moving at the edge of the path, or the faint rustle of boots on dirt. Not until it was too late.

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