A whimper escapes from me as I fall out of the closet with a heavy thud.
I slam face first on the ground.
When I look up, I see the bodies of my parents. My father's mouth is open, his face indistinct, his sword hand still gripping the weapon with a death grip, blood pouring from the wound in his chest. My mother had tried to reach me in the closet, her hand still outstretched—her cold, dead eyes locked onto mine, her facial features also blurred.A puddle of blood has long since pooled toward me, my face smeared with it.
Then I see it—the monster. The hood it wears concealing its face.
It pulls a dagger from my mother's back… and starts making its way toward me.
I wet myself from sheer terror. My body shakes uncontrollably. I can't move.
It crouches down in front of me, forcing my gaze upward.
And then… the cold press of steel touches my throat.
I close my eyes.
BZZZZ BZZZZ BZZZZ
My alarm goes off. I wake up gasping.
That nightmare again. It always comes at random. I quickly shut off the alarm.
Thank God I set it. I spent so long researching last night, I passed out at my desk.
The book I was reading and my notebook are both wide open. I mark my place quickly so I don't lose where I left off. Still dressed in my work uniform, I check if it's still fresh enough. I look... moderately okay.
My black hair is a bit messy, so I comb through it until it settles.
My eyes—dark green, just like my uniform—stare back at me.
No stains. That's good. I'm already running behind as it is.
But when I check the mirror more closely, panic strikes.
My necklace is gone.
I whip around and scan the desk—then breathe a sigh of relief.
It's in my notebook.
I forgot I was comparing jewelry designs last night. I clutch it tight feeling the nightmare I just had disappear to the back of my mind.
The necklace is the only link I have to my past. The only clue that might help me find them.
Two rings hang on it—one white, one black, both glowing faintly with a purple hue. A small locket sits between them. Inside is a photo of a young girl who looks like me and a black-haired boy. They're playing in a field surrounded by these white and purple flowers. The trees behind add to the stunning nature on display. If only I knew where those flowers grew
But I have no memory of it.
I don't know who he is… or what he meant to me.
I hope I'll find them one day.
As I step out of my room, I take a deep breath, welcoming the day.
It's still dark outside. But I have to reach the capital for a delivery—my store won't run itself.
No employees. Just me. A small business gifted to me by the parents who raised me.
I head downstairs, silently thanking them again. They took me in when I was four, showed me love, and gave me kindness. This shop is a blessing.
My mom taught me how to cook and bake.
My dad? He taught me how to trade herbs and spices.
That's how I built The Taste of Spring—my little coffee and tea shop. I aim to give everyone a bit of happiness. And to me, spring is happiness.
I grab the coffee pot and start my morning brew. I'll need it for the trip.
It's cold out—fall hasn't been kind, and where the sun hasn't risen yet it's no surprise how cold it is.
I'm thankful I managed to buy this brewer from Monfront. Their tech goes fast once they decide to sell. They rarely share it with outsiders… but when they do? It's always top-of-the-line. And expensive.
While the coffee brews, I slip outside.
Time to check on my ever-faithful companion: Buttercup.
She's a horse—a Stylverran steed.
Reliable. Fast. Long-lived.
And golden, aside from one white spot on her nose. I named her Buttercup as a child.
Despite her sweet name, her attitude is anything but.. We didn't get along at first. That's normal for her breed.
We used to fight constantly.
But over time? We grew close.
"Hi girl. Didn't get too cold, did you?" I ask with a half-smile.
She huffs in reply, the kind of sound that means: Of course not, you mother hen.
I chuckle, unfasten her blanket, and offer her breakfast—plus an apple, her favorite.
While she eats, I strap her to the wagon.
I press my cheek to her warm side and whisper,
"Thank you… for everything. Let's make today another great day."
I run back inside. The coffee's done.
I fill my canteen with the morning's liquid gold.
Nothing wakes people up faster than a good cup of this heavenly drink.
I grab a cinnamon roll from the shelf—baked yesterday for today's breakfast. Then I throw on my coat. Just a simple one, but warm enough.
Buttercup is finished eating and already waiting for me.
I climb into the saddle.
We make our way to the capital.
It's time to get on the road.