Charlie,

I am so sorry to have to be the one to tell you, but your grandmother unexpectedly passed away two nights ago. I tried to call, but none of the numbers I had worked anymore. I found this address in some of Marianne's paperwork. This is the only way I can reach you, and I'm not even sure it'll work. But I have to try, right?

I know we haven't spoken in almost nine years, but we need you to come home, Charlie. Someone needs to carry on Marianne's work. I know it's a lot, and I know you haven't had any training…but I'll be here to support you any way I can. I'll pass on everything I know.

If you don't want to come back, I completely understand. That day hurt a lot of us. I don't know how things will go, but I'm sure we can get support from Arbre Delvie. At least, for a while.

If and when you're ready, call me, okay? My number's below.

I love you, kiddo.

Lori

‡ † ‡

March 4, 2019

Charlie stared out the window, trying to ignore the stiffness of the uncomfortable train seat. She fixated on the rolling hills and mountainside outside. Lush trees covered the landscape with a flourish of warm colors. Daisy yellow, sunset orange, and apple red swirled together as the wind ruffled the leaves. She looked up at the dense clouds glistening on the nearby hills, her green eyes seeming lost in the woods. The smell of rain and bark drifted in through the window.

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Miner's Cove in five minutes' time. Please make sure to have all your belongings before exiting the train. I repeat…"

Her stomach lurched and she saw she looked pale in her reflection on the window. She crammed her cellphone into her pocket—she didn't know why she had it out in the first place. The service up in those mountains was terrible. Grabbing her messenger bag, she entered the corridor. There was no one else getting off the train, and quite frankly she was more than relieved.

The train steadily slowed and then stopped. Charlie made her way to the door and stared out, waiting for them to open. At first, she didn't look up from the floor; something inside her just still wasn't ready. She knew it was the best thing she could do…in reality, the only thing. Everything was going to be different now.

With a sharp intake of breath, she held her head high and stepped out onto the platform the second the doors parted.

The train's brakes released in a sharp hiss and the big metal transport slowly squealed towards its next destination.

"Oh, Lori, she's finally home!"

"Hey, Charlie!"

At hearing the excited voices, she looked around to see two people. Aside from being slightly older, Lori was as she remembered. But instead of the short hairstyle she had back then, she now rocked a long braid slung over her shoulder. Tal looked as tired and kind as ever, wearing his extremely curly hair wild and free.

"Come here, you!"

She found herself in a warm, fatherly hug the second the train was in the tunnel and already far away.

"I'm so happy to see you! It's been too long…" Tal pulled away and looked Charlie over. "Gosh, look how big you are! I just…can't believe it's finally move-in day for you!"

Lori laughed. "Don't smother her, Tal! She just got here." She turned that warm and welcoming smile Charlie's way. "We're all excited to have you home."

Utterly exhausted from the past two weeks—receiving that letter, quitting her job, and packing what little she had to move—all she could give a weak smile and nod. She looked around the station. Aside from a building she didn't remember, it looked the same.

They left the mountain station, passing by the large construct. The words 'BATH HOUSE' flickered in neon above the front door. That was definitely…new. Something piqued inside her but was quickly displaced by the rising panic and anxiety as they reached the lake that sat beside Lori's two-story home. They could see Miner's Cove proper down the path, and nothing looked to have changed.

Where the mountain paths diverged, Tal bid them a farewell and hurried off down to town. He exclaimed he didn't trust his son with watching the shop for very long. Lori and Charlie both waved him off.

With a sigh and a smile, Lori turned her attention up the western path. Now that was something Charlie remembered. As their feet took them down that literal memory way, it all started to come back. Finding forage along the mountain pass, watching the woodpeckers and squirrels, picking flowers and berries…

"So, Charlie…"

While her smile was still there, Lori's brow crinkled a little, like she was keeping in something she really wanted to get out.

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're back, but…" She trailed off, taking a deep breath, and then releasing it. "Well, I really wish it was under other circumstances. I'm sorry, hun." She gave her a quick, one-armed squeeze as they went.

"I am, too, Lori," she managed.

‡ † ‡

The mountain path rounded above the road, passing over a tunnel that led west to the Kattun Desert. Along the top of the drop-off ran some old fencing, unseen underneath decades of ivy and sweet, flowering vines. The bottom of the trail narrowed before opening onto a gorgeous span of land that never failed to riddle Charlie with wonder.

Under the sunlight, the apples glowed with a hue that no supermarket light could even hope to give. The branches of each tree spread out as if so proud of the sweet, round bounties they bore. It was a party of colors, of chaos and order, of a beauty that sprung from simple seeds blessed with mud and rain, and the enduring love of generations of kind hearts and hands.

Sticking out from among the treetops was the roof of the old farmhouse. Seated atop a gentle sloping hill, it watched over the orchard, its great beams and stone keeping safe the memories of times both good and bad. The window glass shone brilliantly in the sunlight, and the porch—skirted in flowering ivy that crawled across the lattice—looked as sturdy as ever.

The rolling fields beyond the groves were the purest green, and the sound of chirping birds filled the air. Staffs of slim light spilled from the sky, dappling the shaded ground beneath the apple trees. The sun hung high like a great golden disc, warming Charlie in both body and soul, and a pageant of smells floated in the spring air.

She closed her eyes, inhaling. It tasted herbal and sweet, like drops of undissolved honey at the bottom of a teacup, and she felt that air cleanse the city smog from her lungs.

Everything about this place was just so full of life.

Pulled from her reverie, she became aware of Lori at her side. The older woman gave her a somewhat sympathetic look as she, too, looked out over the landscape.

"You gonna be okay?"

She mulled Lori's words over in her head. It was best to be honest, right? The city was all she'd known these past few years, yet now here she stood in the place she thought she'd never see again.

"I don't know." She eyed her with a mix of worry and muted awe before looking around. "Where is Adagium?"

"He's been asleep since that night." She jerked her chin towards the south. Down the rolling landscape the top of a tall stone tower poked out of the trees. "Whatever he did to bring you back from… Guess he used too much power," she added quietly.

He was still asleep? She remembered that night—pain—fear—death. Then being alive again, ripped from the squirming cold abyss and inhaling the warmth and magic of life like it was for the first time. She sensed something darker was going on but delving into that mystery wasn't what she wanted right now. Right now, she wanted to get settled into her new home and figure out just what it was she was supposed to do. If Adagium was still asleep, perhaps it wasn't his time to help yet.

She knew deep down she wasn't up for filling the shoes her grandmother left behind—not just yet. But what it ultimately boiled down to was this: If she didn't do it, who would? Looking back to the tower, she knew it would only be a matter of time.

"You think he's going to wake up soon?"

"Don't know. Probably just needs his lady in shining armor to come wake him, eh?"

"Oh, gross, Lori. The guy's older than literal rocks. I'd rather take my chances with someone my own age."

"Hmm, I'm telling Ignis you said that."

"Don't you—"

Lori's warm laugh filled the air.

They fell back into silence before Lori gave her shoulder a light squeeze.

"You'll do great, kiddo. And whether you take to it like a pro or struggle to find your place, me, Tal, Griff, and Ignis… We're all here for you." She glanced down to her watch and made a face. "Anyways, I have to catch Tal before he closes shop. If you need anything, feel free to stop in anytime. I'm sure Masae and Ignis would love to see you again, too!"

"I will. Thank you so much."

"Anytime!" she called, hurrying down the path that led to the bus stop and, beyond that, the small coastal town of Miner's Cove.

Charlie waved at the woman's retreating form, silently wishing she'd been able to stay just a little longer. There was something to her kindness and warmth now that seemed more subdued. Regardless, she still radiated that feeling like, no matter what you say or do, she'd still look at you with approval and love. Maybe that was just how moms were.

At least, the good ones.

Reveling in the natural serenity, Charlie sighed. As much as she wanted to hole up inside the house, she knew she couldn't. At least, not forever. Once she got settled in, it would be a good idea for her to walk around town and meet everyone again. She only hoped it would be easier than she feared. There was a lot for her to process, being her first day back home, though she wasn't entirely dismissive of the suggestion. She did want to see everyone—old and new. She really did. Just not so…soon.

"Tomorrow, then," she finally decided aloud, as though to give herself that last little 'oomph'. It was something to look forward to, after all.

‡ † ‡

Charlie was up at sunrise, ready to seek out the property's boundaries. She greeted the new day full of adrenaline and an eagerness to lose herself within the purity of the wild. And though the land itself was huge, there were plenty of great timberlands surrounding the main orchard where nature was left to run wild. Pulling an old walking stick from the cabin-sized shed behind the house, she set out.

From north to south, a well-maintained dirt path cut completely through the orchard, ending at the southern stone bridge that led to the ranch further south. A well-maintained steppingstone path cut south through the trees directly before the house itself, stopping roughly fifty yards ahead before turning west.

Colored ribbons fluttered around the trunks of each tree, marking the separate plots—red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. Seven plots in all. And within each of those plots sat two to three little sprite huts, each no bigger than a standard doghouse. Some were made from the stumps of old trees, decorated with handmade ornaments and small doors, steps and tiny paths. Others were more primitive and made from stacked stone and thatched rooves.

As nice as it was to remember happier times, Charlie didn't understand why they now sat almost lifeless. They radiated a sort of coldness, like the sprites that once lived within them had died. Judging by the bountiful trees surrounding her, she knew that wasn't the case. Sprites were the physical manifestation of both life and magic of the land itself, so if they had died, the lands they watched over would also suffer.

She shrugged it off. Perhaps the arrival of a new owner pushed them to watch from afar?

The western path led her down to a lake. A sturdy pier jutted into those crystal waters, at the end of which bobbed a small wooden boat. Never having gone on the boat herself, Charlie set off for the western bank, only to discover a hidden path that led to a small quarry. Other than the rocks and a miner's table, the quarry was a dead end.

Back on the main property she moved further south to the great stone bridge, looking beyond the trees that lined either side of the river. Below she could see the old ranch owned by a quirky but kind woman named Marla. Cows and sheep and pigs wandered within their fences, and thickets of oak and maple dotted what land wasn't covered by flowering berry bushes and pockets of dark, deep water.

Charlie moved on towards the path to Marla's house, but just before reaching it she stopped. Sticking up out of the trees to the west was the tower. Curious, she doubled back through the trees, stopping at the foot of the smooth stone steps that led up the home's hill. Her eyes fell on the blackened windows and shriveled, dead vines sprawling up the sides. From looks alone, the place seemed abandoned. Muttering a soft prayer under her breath, she turned back for the orchard. What else could she do? The odd sensation of being unwelcome that radiated from the construct largely aided in this decision.

She focused instead on taking a closer look at the lake. Such clear, blue water surrounded by wildflowers and soft grass. Charlie immediately decided it would be a swimming spot, remembering just unbearable the summers there could get.

The fruit trees in front of her house were already full of fruit, ripe and ready for harvest. She almost sang when she bit into one. It was so sweet! A pie made from those apples would surely become a favorite by anyone who tried it. Charlie just needed to learn how to bake… It was something she knew Grandma Marianne would approve of with how often the house was filled with the appetizing aromas of all things sweet and savory baking in that ancient oven.

Circumstances being what they were, Charlie had found herself on a bus to Miner's Cove only days after reading Lori's letter. She hadn't stopped to think of everything she was literally abandoning in the city—she was more focused on just why she needed to return home. Now that she was finally here, Charlie felt the huge weight settling onto her shoulders.

She didn't know the first thing about being a Guardian—she was too busy thinking about why she needed to come home rather than what would happen after her arrival. She'd watched her family when she was little, sure, but it was just them tending to the huts or making little charms out of gemstones they'd gotten from the mines. Little things, basic magics, and no combat training—just what she'd witnessed the few times she snuck out to follow her grandmother.

All she knew for certain was how to run and maintain the orchard—picking and bagging the fruit, maintaining the manifest, budgeting, properties of the soil, and what trees were ready and when. Otherwise, she had no one to guide her, no knowledge of what was truly expected of her as the next Guardian, and no way to research it. Lori had offered all she knew, but she was only the Trusted—she knew what went on behind the scenes, protected what and when she could, and handled correspondence between outside organizations and the protectors of the town.

With Adagium essentially MIA, she didn’t know where to start. Seeing how little she knew—and how much homework would go into even scratching the surface—Charlie stopped for the first time to question if this was the right choice.

Though it didn't really matter. This orchard was home. And becoming a Guardian was her only choice. She had to make it work. If she was going to pick up where Marianne left off, she'd need to prove that she had the foresight to find her own way. If Marianne was anything, it was meticulous—constant late nights of notetaking and research.

That was where to begin.

With that thought driving her to look forward Charlie headed into the house, pulled the oldest notebooks from the shelf, and set to reading them.