Four Suits (Book 1)

Day 50: Signal

DAY 50: SIGNAL

Not everyone in 'Reca' is dead.

At least, not yet.

When morning sunshine trickles through the thick, acrid smoke carrying from the raging fire quite the distance away, that's when they slink out.

Grandparents, fathers, mothers—even toddlers who don't look past the age of three. All have lost traces of vibrancy and joy, and have nothing but a thin layer of skin, incapable of masking their protruding bones and famished countenances.

They pick up discarded leftovers and even ruined plants and fruits. Leda and Orian's attempts at approaching them for answers results in them barely mustering the energy to summon their voices to speak.

They can muster one thing, though: that the royal family has abandoned them.

The idea makes Leda sick to her stomach.

"I thought you said the royal family was kinder than anyone," she grounds out, glaring at Orian through her blurry vision. "Those assholes left their citizens to die!"

He pries his attention from the dirtied water making up the creeks. They'd come here, adamant on acquiring remnants of fruits from the burnt trees from the fire, as well as salvageable water. But what they've collected can't even amount to anything. And whatever hope they were clinging to before has vanished—buried beneath the burning air. Heading too deep into the forest is out of the question also; the possibility that the Northern Dragon will wreak more havoc than it already has is far too risky.

"The Land of Edaps is a beautiful place." Orian clings to that belief despite the strain in his face indicating otherwise. "This area was probably engulfed in some kind of war—"

"A war?" Leda scoffs. "These people aren't apart of the military; they're innocent citizens who can't even fend for themselves."

"Then, there's most likely a reasonable explanation—"

"Like what?" She chucks another rotten 'elppa' into the worn-down basket she's secured back at Reca—its name Orian told her still hard to digest. "Seriously, Orian," she continues. "Does it look like they're involved in some kind of conflict? These people—these children—are dying of hunger and some kind of illness. Drinkable water, proper food, shelter—it's all unattainable. The Northern Dragon's rampages are keeping them from exploring the forest for potential rations as well. And their damn government has abandoned them despite that. There's no way in hell they're coming back for them either!"

Orian is mute—unable to get the words of rebuttal past his throat. Leda's aches just the same, and she bites her lower lip hard enough to draw blood. Another huff passes her lips as she collapses onto a nearby log, pressing her chin into her palms.

"Real life or even in this world—nothing has changed about petty rulers whose thoughts are only about greed and power; without a care for the people beneath them on the social ladder. The rich make a living off the poor only to repay them with undeserving deaths. They've never given a shit." She can't withhold a shaky intake of oxygen. "I... I don't even have anything to help them myself. I'm so pathetic—"

"Master Leda."

Orian kneels down on one knee. There isn't an ounce of frailty mirroring his face. Instead, it's a blindingly warm smile. He extends the bag of fairy meat Rhett had provided on their journey, and drops onto the space beside her.

His gentle gaze doesn't waver for a moment. "We haven't had a break since we left the Deck Tower," he says. "You should rest."

She bites the inside of her cheek. "I'm fine. The townspeople aside, we still haven't gone back to figure out what caused that dragon's riot, and—"