Blossom Fable

Chapter 1

"That's two hundred gold, young sir."

Even though I got a hundred gold for my birthday yesterday, the amount still cuts like a knife. "Sure," I say. I reach into my pouch and hand over the money. The heavy coins leave my hands like big promises. To myself. To the parents I leave behind.

"Name?"

"Hope," I say. "Hope Zh—"

"I don't need to know your last name." The ticketer looks at me like I tried to slap him, then he runs a hand across his speckled beard. "Anyway, go ahead. Don't lose this ticket."

He hands me a slip of paper that says "hope" in chicken scratch. Surely last names are important in this case? I take a few seconds to memorize my surroundings, a tiny airport a mile trek from my home city. The wooden platform has splinters sticking out at every angle. A long line snakes from the ticketing booth, full of people who either look miserable or at least desperate for escape.

The forest surrounds the airport, making it hard to see unless a person's looking hard, or if they already know the way. Two months ago, I memorized the hike here. Awaiting this day, like waiting for the clock to strike midnight.

I make my way to the end of the line, trying to ignore the growing pit of anxiety in my stomach. I imagine my parents stumbling into the airport and dragging me out. Even though I left the house extra early, before sunset, I know that they would at least have an inkling that I want to leave.

"Do you need to go to the bathroom or something?" A woman behind me says.

I correct my weakling-aura and try to imagine myself as the person I want to be—setting off on a grand adventure, following the natural order of the goddess. Because even though my parents believe that the goddess is coming back soon and becoming a mage is pure heresy, I've always disagreed, in my own little ways.

And now I guess... in a very big way.

"Please proceed to the ship!" says a tan lady with curly, black hair. "I repeat, please proceed to the ship! We'll be taking off soon."

As the line begins to move, I take in the forest—the lushness and the familiarity of it—as I leave home. I will probably never come back, even though I was raised in this valley, separated from the rest of the continent with a deadly, uncrossable mountain ridge.

Uncrossable by everything except an airship.

The airship, smaller than two valley houses put together, holds about a hundred or so passengers. It smells like feet, and I stuff myself into the main cabin. A few seconds later, I believe I'll do better out on the deck. I exit to find myself face to face with the ticketer.

"Can I see your ticket?" he says.

"Sure." I reach into my pocket. Huh? I can't find the slip. In fact, my pocket's empty.

The ticketer flashes a grin off to his side. And I know it. I know I've just been scammed.

As the airship takes off, I don't have the opportunity to enjoy the rushing air and the fluttering sails. I can't stop thinking about my two hundred gold.

"If you lost your ticket, I'm afraid you're going to have to buy another one."

I panic, thinking about my life savings, how it will barely last me a month on the continent by myself. "You saw me buy a ticket. You handed me the slip!"

"Yes, but these are just the rules of the airship," he says. "You can't blame me for doing my job."

Even though I should be taking in the sight of the valley, I rush up to the edge of the ship and almost vomit over—down to my family's village, the little huts surrounding a marketplace and square that make up several key members of the Following.