Journal #1: Punished on Petalbright

A name day full of chores, missed parades, and unexpected magic.

An old journal entry from Eira, age fifteen. Written on Petalbright —the Spring festival that marks the end of winter and the beginning of new things. A glimpse into softer days, tangled braids, and a girl still learning how to belong:

Petalbright festival and Inventory Day (unfortunately)Date: 5th Spring moon

I’m being brutally punished. And that on Petalbright, of all days. Papa says I should’ve done the inventory a week ago (which—yes, okay, maybe fair), but still. I said the festival won’t wait either, and did he really want to start the new year by fighting with his only daughter?? He just rolled his eyes and handed me the stupid ledger like I’d personally offended the ancestors.

So far my fifteenth name day is officially cursed. Or maybe just annoying. But still. I had to take a break from all the work I've been doing.

The Apothecary feels stuffier than usual today. Maybe because I know I’m missing the entire Petalbright parade. (I can practically smell the sugarbread from here. Torture.) Elara’s already gone ahead with her mum. I saw them pass the window—her braids had little pink ribbons and actual bellflowers tucked in like a crown. She always looks like something out of a storybook.

I tried to copy that style once. Mine fell out after like three steps. (Note to self: braid practice. Again.)

I miss having someone to braid my hair.

Not that I’d ever tell Papa that. Or anything about her, really. It makes his hands go still, like he forgets what he’s doing. Like a thorn got caught under his skin and stayed there.

I've already missed the ribbon-tying at the village square. They say if yours comes loose, your wishes float away with it.

And the rune marking. I don’t even know how the elders are planning to do it this year—there’s barely any snow left.

I don’t care about that. Mornings aren’t the fun part of the festivities anyway. I just need to finish by evening. That’s when the real magic happens.

Anyway. I’ve finished three shelves and counted the Widow’s Thistle twice like I was told. (Last time I didn’t and Papa had to send a rider all the way to Windmere. He didn’t say anything, but I could tell he was mad. Though he did make my favorite dinner that night, so… half-forgiven?

Evening (finally)…

I made it just in time.

The lanterns were being lit when I reached the square—last streaks of sunlight catching in the glass like petals dipped in fire. Pretty, right? I didn’t even stop to catch my breath.

Elara found me in about three seconds flat, grabbed my hand, and dragged me straight into the crowd like she hadn’t just ditched me hours ago.

The whole square smelled like sugar and woodsmoke and cinnamon. Someone had strung springheart blossoms over the storyteller’s tent, and they glowed like little pink stars. Elara wanted to watch the dancers (because she’s absolutely going to marry the one in the blue vest, apparently). He’s too old for her. And his vest wasn’t even that nice. She rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might fall out, then pulled me toward the dancing ring.

Yes. Me. Dancing.

It started with one of the silly circle ones—everyone holding hands and spinning in loops while the fiddles played like they were being chased by bees. I nearly tripped twice, and Elara kept laughing and pulling me along. But by the second song, I wasn’t thinking so hard. My feet just… moved. The lights spun, and the petals rained down from the storyteller’s canopy, and it felt like I was inside a dream that smelled like candied apples. I had the best time.

Old Marnie danced with three partners tonight and tried to charm the seamstress again. Same as every year. I hope someone got it on sketch-paper this time.

And then at the end of the night, we lit the lanterns. The village looked so magical. Like from a fairy tale. We cheered so loud, my throat is a little raw.

I thought I'll write down the evening events before I forget.

TO DO:

☐ INVENTORY!!!!!

☐ Scrub boots

☐ Laundry.

☐ Wash hair (try that chamomile rinse before it wilts)

☐ History scroll rewrite (ugh, dates again??)

☐ Look for Springheart Blossom behind the temple

☐ Buy more quills—this one keeps blotting like it’s possessed