Shadows of the Heart

Chapter Two

The morning was crisp and sharp with cold, the kind that bit at the skin and filled the lungs with clean, aching air. Stella wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders as she joined the others on their way to the nearby forest. Today’s task was simple enough—gathering wood for the communal fire—but even routine chores felt heavier lately, as though something unseen hovered just beyond her awareness.

They worked in quiet companionship, breaking fallen branches and gathering dry kindling, the forest alive with birdsong and the scent of damp earth. By the time Stella turned back toward the camp, her arms ached pleasantly from the weight of the bundle she carried.

Near the edge of the clearing, her mother Rose approached her, expression unusually tense.

“Stella,” she said gently, falling into step beside her, “your father needs to speak with you. It’s important.”

Stella glanced at the sky. “Okay, Mama. I won’t be long. I just need to milk the goats first.”

“No,” Rose said, a little too quickly. She reached out and caught Stella’s arm. “Leave that for later. Your father wants to see you now.”

The urgency in her mother’s voice sent a flicker of unease through Stella, but she nodded and changed course toward their caravan.

Bill was waiting on the steps when she arrived, a mug of tea cradled between his hands. He looked up as she approached, his usual warmth shadowed by something more solemn.

“Come inside,” he said. “It’s cold. This won’t take long.”

Inside the caravan, the fire crackled softly. Stella set her bundle down and smiled at her father, trying to lighten the mood. “What is it, Dad? What’s so important you couldn’t wait?”

Bill hesitated. Then he set his mug carefully on the table and met her gaze.

“You’re coming of age next week, Stella,” he said quietly. “You know what that means.”

Her smile faltered slightly, though she nodded. “The banquet,” she said. “The music. The dancing.”

“Yes,” Bill said. “All of it. The whole camp will celebrate. And afterward…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “Afterward, you’ll be told more. About our traditions. Our magic. You’ll begin your training.”

A strange stillness settled over her.

Stella had always known this day would come, had watched older girls cross this threshold and emerge changed somehow—quieter, burdened with knowledge she had never been allowed to share. Yet hearing it spoken aloud made her chest tighten.

“I thought there would be more time,” she said softly.

Bill reached out and covered her hand with his own. “Time moves whether we’re ready or not,” he said. “You’ve grown into a young woman now. The old ways require it.”

Stella nodded again, but unease curled in her stomach. Something about the way her father avoided her eyes, the way her mother hovered just outside the door, told her this was only the beginning.

And though she didn’t yet know why, a single thought echoed through her mind:

Everything is about to change.