This story takes place in a world which I rather enjoy thinking of. It’s not a technologically advanced world. It’s a… cobblers and blacksmiths kind of thing, entertainment being provided by travelling bards and play troupes. No, society in Phaestos had attained quite another sort of advancement: they had largely found peace. In Kandra, the land we’re going to be focusing on, the last war had been a whole two hundred years ago. Kandra was a large and influential land in the world of Phaestos, so that gives you a good idea.

How this came about is a story unto itself, but today is the day for a cozy story, not an epic. Let me zoom in on our two main characters. 

Two days’ ride from Illumia, the capital of Kandra, lay Suringen, a sleepy town surrounded by a wild steppe filled with flowers and horses. Suringen was a remnant of an old mining boom, and no longer of much interest in the grand scheme of things. 

Not even in Suringen, per se, but nearby, lived our two main characters, Bee and Foxglove. 

You’ll forgive me for taking some liberties; the flowers in this world weren’t of course exactly foxgloves, and the bees here weren’t exactly bees, but they were similar enough that these words will give you a taste. If need be, I’ll use words like “humanity”, even though the folk I’m describing had six fingers to a hand, and their skin colour was a rather nice shade of dun olive green. The point is — this is a world which might feel, well, refreshingly different to a jaded tourist from Earth, but not one that would feel jarringly alien, once you’d warmed up to it.

That said, I feel like I have to mention that the bee-like creatures on Phaestos were especially round and fluffy. Like bumblebees, but even more so. It says something that instead of bears, the classic cuddly toy in Kandra was bee-shaped. So I smile every time I say the name of our heroine, Bee.

Bee and Foxglove were happily married, though rather young. Soon after school they had moved to an orchard and done up the house there together. They entertained guests on a semi-regular basis, and had people over to help during harvest season, but took most pleasure in their animals and each other. 

Picture this. The harvest season was just over, and the last of the crates of strawberry-apples had been sent off to market, the last of the helpers riding along with it. Bee and Foxglove made some tea, and cuddled together on the bed, holding hands lazily. Foxglove read a book, while Bee gazed out of the small window at the sparkly, blue moon. (Yes, the moon here was an unmistakably blueish shade of pale grey. That’s not a figure of speech).

“Foxglove?” asked Bee.

“Yeah?”

“I’m so happy,” said Bee. Her tone, though, was more pensive than joyful.

“You’ve said that, like, three times this week.”

“Still true.”

Foxglove kissed Bee on the head. Her hair smelled nice, like rosemary. 

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Bee kept staring at the moon, and Foxglove almost started reading again. But then Bee said, “But… don’t you sometimes feel like… we were meant for something more?”

Foxglove frowned. This was new. “Um… I guess I can empathise?”

“So you mean you don’t have that feeling?”

Foxglove gazed at Bee caringly. “No, I guess not. Maybe I had it when I was a kid, somewhat.”

“Not now?”

“No.”

“You’re just okay with… growing strawberry-apples and cinnamon-plums until we die?”

“Yes… yes? Um… Bee, should I be worried?”

“No! I’m happy. I’m okay. I just… wonder sometimes.”

Foxglove smiled and gave Bee a kiss on the lips. “Love you, teddybee.”

“Bzzz,” said Bee, wriggling her nose between Foxglove’s breasts. Foxglove giggled. They both did.

“Um, Bee?” said Foxglove eventually. 

“Yes, honey?”

“I got to like a good part in this book.”

“Ah.”

“Like, a really good part.”

“Oh.”

“So I kind of wonder if I could get some clarity about whether we’re going to joke around some more or whether I can keep reading now.”

“Hmm.”

“And like, really keep reading.”

“Huh.”

“So I’d like to either put the book down right now or get some real undisturbed focus for the next half hour.”

“Mhm.”

“Shall I read on?”

“Mhm!” said Bee, with an excessively earnest expression, nodding vigorously. They both collapsed into giggles. You kind of had to be there.

*

Now as I mentioned, Suringen was a sleepy town and our heroines didn’t even live in it. So you’ll forgive them if they were behind on current affairs. They hadn’t even heard about the meteorite impact in the Red Forest down South. It was big news in Illumia, and people had even heard rumours of it since a few days ago in Suringen. 

But news travels slow in a world like this, and in Suringen no one had heard yet about the strange orbs of light found in the crater, the way water had started flowing up hills, or what had happened to the animals in the area.

Bee was no exception. She had no idea about any of this. She didn’t have a hunch or an intuition. She was, as they say, blissfully unaware.

Bee had precisely nothing more of an idea about any of this a few days later, as a melancholy mood found her staying up while Foxglove dozed, finished book in hand. 

Bee gazed out at the stars and moon – you may be interested to know that on Phaestos the moon was always full – and addressed herself to the Great Tree. (For whatever reason, this is the image they had of God in Kandra). 

“Dear Tree… you wouldn’t have given me these desires for no reason, would you?” said Bee. “If I feel like I’m meant to do something more… maybe that’s because… well, I just am?”

The sound of crickets and an earthy autumn scent wafted in through the window. Bee felt a little comforted, as if sensing that the Universal Tree had heard her. 

“Can you give me a chance, Tree?” said Bee. “Can you let me become something more, someone more? Can you let me do something meaningful?”

Bee gazed out at the sky for a while longer before sighing and closing the window. She took a bite of cinnamon plum and gazed at her beloved, who was drooling a little onto her book. 

The plum tasted perfect. Foxglove was perfect. Her drool was perfect, and her hair was mussed up just right. That, I’m afraid, is what it’s like to be in love. 

I could live the rest of my life like this, thought Bee. Of course I could.

The thing is, she didn’t say that last part aloud. She also didn’t see the unusual iridescent blue bird sitting outside the window, intelligent eyes gazing into the house, head cocked as if to listen to every word Bee had said. 

Strange things, as I’ve mentioned, were afoot.