The fragrance of spices and flowers filled our home, covering every corner of My room-situated on the second floor-carried a warmth that enveloped my heart and revived sweet memories of the past. It was the day of the annual harvest festival—a celebration considered the greatest holiday in Sunflower Village.
In my simple room, bathed in beams of golden sunlight, I glanced anxiously at the date written before me.
"The twenty-seventh…" I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of excitement and nervousness.
Excitement, because this was a day where no one could remain gloomy. Should anyone dare, the villagers would make them dance in the blessing circle around the village spring until their worries vanished.
And nervousness, because this day marked my fifteenth birthday—the day I planned to confess my feelings to Kara.
Just thinking about her made my heart race, and a strange heat spread across my right cheek. Jolted by the thought, I leapt out of my warm bed and made my way to the wardrobe where I kept the most prized possession of my collection.
Between the books stacked neatly on the shelves—titles like "A Guide to the Outside World" and "Fishes of the Red Continent and Their Varieties"—my gaze quickly fell upon an ancient, nameless book. Its pages were fragile, on the verge of tearing, yet it was the most precious of all my treasures. Unlike the other books, which were written by the villagers, this one came from the outside world.
In our secluded village, such an item was a treasure beyond imagination. Its existence was a secret I guarded fiercely, even from my own family.
When I first read it, I had been overwhelmed by unfamiliar terms like "desert" and "waterfalls." It was then I knew—I had to leave the village and see the outside world for myself. But not without Kara.
As my thoughts wandered, a light tapping sounded at my door. Startled, I swiftly closed the wardrobe and hid behind the door, waiting. She was early, as always.
The door creaked open, revealing a small figure tiptoeing toward my bed. Her golden hair shimmered in the sunlight streaming through the window, and then, with playful energy, she pounced onto the bed.
"Max!" Mia called excitedly, only to freeze when she found it empty.
In that moment, I moved silently toward her and swept her into the air.
"Max!" she squealed, her voice a mix of joy and mock surprise.
A grin spread across my face as I swung her gently, her laughter momentarily washing away my worries.
"Mom sent me to wake you up," Mia said with a sweet smile, though I had already guessed as much. She came every day.
"Alright then, let's go see Mom," I said, setting her down as we headed toward the stairs.
In our modest home, we found Mother in the kitchen. She wore a dress adorned with red floral patterns and bracelets made from a rare metal that Father had crafted himself. The centerpiece, a gem he had discovered by chance in the coal mine, made it a treasured piece she only wore for the harvest festival.
A warm smile lit her face as she saw us enter.
"Would you like some breakfast, my dears? There's honey to add, and if you'd like, you can pick some berries from the backyard."
"Yes! Berries! Max, let's get some!" Mia exclaimed, pulling at my hand and dragging me toward the garden.
Laughing, I relented. "Alright, let's grab some berries for the pancakes. Mom, have you seen Leo?"
Mother paused, setting the dough aside to rise.
"No, he went with your father to check on Daisy. I don't think she'll be able to join the festival this year."
Daisy, our family's cherished horse, had been injured a week ago while returning from the forest. She had always been the star of the annual harvest race, and the thought of her absence was heartbreaking. Mia had cried for three days straight, and even I felt a deep sorrow. She was more than a horse; she was family.
As I stepped into the garden, the vibrant greenery greeted me. Orange and lemon trees stood alongside bushes heavy with red and blue berries, all lovingly tended by my mother over two years. Father often called it "paradise," and I couldn't disagree.
Mia darted ahead to the berry bushes, eagerly plucking red berries—some ripe, others not. A soft breeze rustled the leaves, sending a shiver down my spine. The evening promised to be chilly, yet something deeper unsettled me, an unshakable sense of foreboding.
I approached Mia, who had collected a mix of ripe and unripe berries.
"Mia, you need to pick only the ripe ones," I gently reminded her.
She smiled innocently. "It's for the evening offering. Do you think the god will like these?"
Her pure heart made me smile. During the festival, we gathered fruits and vegetables to form a large circle as an offering of gratitude to the god, later distributing them to the needy as a blessing.
"Yes, he'll love them," I assured her, joining in to pick some plump, ripe blue berries. The thought of their rich taste with honey and pancakes made my empty stomach grumble.
We returned to the kitchen, where I found Father and Leo back from the fields. Father wore a somber expression, while Leo's silence was unusual. It confirmed my fears—Daisy wouldn't be racing tonight.
Mia rushed to hug Father, her warmth drawing a soft smile from his face. Leo, however, brightened at the sight of the pancakes and berries. Pancakes were his greatest love. I placed the berries on the table.
"Max, Daisy's injured. She won't race tonight," Father said, his tone heavy with regret. Though I longed to ride Daisy in the festival, I knew her well-being mattered most.
"She's family, and her recovery is more important than the race," I said, trying to ease his burden.
Leo, however, wasn't so understanding. He slammed his hand on the table.
"That's not fair! This was supposed to be my year to ride her. It's not fair!"
Mother stepped in with her soothing voice. "Why worry? You can ride her next year."
"Next year…" Leo muttered, his mood lightening, while I sighed inwardly.
As laughter filled the room, a sudden chill ran down my spine. I turned toward the window, but all I saw was the clear blue sky and the familiar trees of our village.
"What is it?" Father asked, noticing my unease.
"Nothing," I replied with a smile. Yet deep down, I couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right.
Trying to distract myself, I reached for a pancake and some berries—only to find an empty plate smeared with berry juice. I looked up to see Leo grinning mischievously. His smile was full of stolen berries.