another Daughter as well. Seamlessly, The Savior title passed through each generation, and while it’s said no two Saviors had the same shade of eyes, they all possessed the same luminescent skin and celestial power. More importantly, with each Savior, the land was fruitful, peace was upheld, and the realm remained prosperous.
Yes, today was truly a wondrous holiday—a day for joy, for food, for rest.
But not for Tobias. He still worked. He always worked.
“Blessed Day, to you and yours.” The phrase repeated around him, and he hurried his pace, put off by the greeting. He headed down an alleyway, maneuvering between stacks of woven baskets, trying to avoid the smiling faces of those fortunate enough to be celebrating. Darting across the stone road, he ducked into another alley, this one empty aside from a donkey and a muttering drunk. Two asses. Soon the dirt path to his village was in sight, but just as he escaped the alley, he stopped.
Ahead of him was the dirt road, and to his right a shop with reddish walls and an open front. Vibrant paintings on pulled canvas lined its countertops, and a portly man shuffled through the space—an artist, the most prominent in all of Thessen. He stopped to wipe his brow before looking out at the road—at Tobias—and a soft smile crept across his face, the kind that held a hint of sadness. Of pity.
Tobias nodded, then made his way down the dusty dirt road.
The two-mile walk seemed especially long, making the uphill climb more taxing than usual. Finally his home appeared in the distance, small and bland like every other cottage in his village, with plaster walls and a hazel thatched roof. It was the very last cottage on the hilltop, and while the trek to and from was inconvenient at best, the view was a worthy consolation; endless sky consumed his vision, now the color of apricots as the sun disappeared from the horizon. With a grunt, he opened the door of his cottage and made his way inside.
The smell of boiled something filled his nostrils. Two women hovered by the fire, one older with olive skin and brown hair streaked with grey, the other young and slight with a dark braid hanging down her back. The older woman spun toward him, wiping her hands down the front of her dress before scurrying his way.
“Tobias!” She pulled him close, giving him a firm squeeze and a firmer kiss on the cheek. She grimaced. “My God, you reek.”
“Good to see you too.”
“And I swear, you’re as bronzed as the Ceres fountain.” She grabbed his chin and examined his face. “You must keep out of the sun. Your skin will turn to leather.”
“A consequence of the job, Mother.”
“Well, no one told you you had to work today.”
Tobias dug the coin purse from his pocket and placed it in her palm, folding her fingers over its lining. “Blessed Day.”
His mother wavered, her stare reflecting her competing guilt and gratitude. She cupped his cheek. “You’re too good to us.”
“Impossible.”
Tobias peered over his mother’s shoulder at his sister, who sat beside the fire, stirring a wooden spoon through whatever it was they were to be eating that night. She turned to Tobias, a knowing grin on her face.
“Blessed Day,” she cooed.
Tobias’s eyes widened. “You’re cooking?”
“She’s cooking!” His mother scampered to her side and clutched her shoulders. “Naomi was a great help today, very productive.”
“But cooking? That’s just cruel. She’ll poison us all.”
“Oh, shut up, Tobias,” Naomi said. “You’re one to talk.”
Tobias chuckled. Naomi was older than him but only by minutes; twins weren’t common in these parts, making Tobias and Naomi a known anomaly in their village. They had the same sharp cheekbones, the same full lips, but their most distinct likeness was their eyes: large and black like wells of ink, and while their mother argued they were brown in the light, it was surely the darkest shade of brown either had ever seen.
Naomi glanced up at him as if she sensed his staring. “Do I look silly?”
She sat in a wooden chair layered with cushions that lifted her high enough for her to reach over the fire. And though Tobias tried not to, he couldn’t help but notice her feet, which were stiff and greyish from lack of use. Perhaps her legs were just as withered.
He smiled. “You can’t look silly. You look just like me.”
“Oh, then I must look awful.”
“Quiet, both of you.” Their mother wedged herself into the kitchen. “Tobias, wash