The festival was in full swing. There were stalls selling food, and various games were set up. My whole family was dressed in special festival clothing, made by my parents. This festival was honoring the Goddess of Autumn, Morgesa . There was a god for each season, each with an associated festival. Additionally, each festival and god had associated colors, fabrics, and rituals. For the autumn festival, we wore clothes made of flannel in red and rituals were held to bless the harvest. The summer festival was for the god Palar. It celebrated the ocean. Clothes were made of blue linen. The spring festival was for the goddess Shenera. Clothes were made of green cotton. It blesses new life. The winter festival was for the god Ishkal. It was held to pray for a safe, mild season. Clothes were made of white wool.

I was born just after the winter festival, so of course I missed that one. I was ill during the spring festival, and thus missed it. I was given my stick toys to make up for missing it. My parents kept me in during the summer festival. A terrible heat wave had come through, and my parents decided it was too risky to take a delicate baby out in such weather. We went on the beach trip at the end of the summer to make up for the missed festival. Though since that was also botched, my family had chosen to spoil me at this festival. Fingers crossed we get through today without issue. 

 This would be my first ever festival, both in this life and the previous one. The town near Grace Academy did have a winter festival to celebrate the holidays, where vendors sold goods and snacks. It always took place during the academy's winter break. But I was expected to stay in and study during breaks. I always dreamt of going, and I became certain attending the festival would be a magical experience. Once, when I was 13, I tried sneaking out to the festival, but I got caught. My former parents bribed members of staff to keep a close eye on me, making it difficult to get away with anything. I spent the rest of that winter break confined to my room, with meals being brought up. No snacks or desserts were permitted. I wasn't even allowed to go to the library. Needless to say, I never again tried going to the festival. Maybe festivals in this world will be as magical as I dreamed - perhaps literally! 

Every stall enticed me with different items. We passed vendors selling food, jewelry, gemstones, toys, baskets, pottery, blown glass, and much more. My brothers and I had been promised unlimited snacks and one reasonably-priced gift each. The boys could also play several games each. Marden is quick to grab a bun filled with cheese. For his gift, he chooses a toy bow and arrow. Callan selects a flaky pastry topped with nuts. He then picks out a storybook for his present. Deren goes for meatballs, served on a stick, and a small wooden flute. I eventually decided on a dish composed of chunks of fried dough, soaked in syrup. It was called Hirelt and it was delicious, and soft enough for me to eat with my limited teeth. After walking by dozens of stalls, I finally found what I wanted for my gift. We came across a vendor selling wooden animal figurines. The boutique's eponymous bird jumps out at me. I reach my stubby arms for it, without success. But mama sees my effort and picks up the bluebird. She smiles and picks it up. "Would you like this, my dear?" I nod, and she buys it with a wide smile. Next, we head to the game area, where the boys play a number of games, winning a few small prizes. Papa joins in on the fun, tossing bean bags at a painted target. He hits it four times and wins a small jar of honey. Papa hands me a beanbag, and I throw it with all my might. Of course, I miss the target by a mile, but the person running the game still gives me a piece of candied fruit. Mama proves to be quite good at a game resembling skeeball. She wins a large cotton doll, which she gives to me. We then stuff our faces with more snacks and leave the stalls as the sun starts to set. 

We end the day with a temple visit. The capital has temples devoted to each god, but my new hometown has just one for the whole pantheon. I had been brought here to be blessed as a newborn, but had slept through the entire ceremony. I glanced around, admiring the ecclesiastical building. It was reminiscent of both Greek and Chinese temples from my world. It was a wide-set, rectangular building. It had tiered roofs, covered in tiles. Both roofs were supported by tall columns. Each roof was trimmed with a strip of granite, carved with holy symbols. In front of the temple was a tall rectangular gateway, with more holy symbols etched in. A series of flat, wide steps lay past the gate, leading to the front doors. The doors were tall and imposing. Faces of the gods and goddesses had been carved in. Similar depictions were found inside, with paintings hanging on the walls. Benches with cushions filled the inside. At the front, was a raised dais, with an ornate set of doors. I assumed holy texts lay behind the doors, like a Torah ark in a synagogue. The dais was surrounded by candles, in tall brass candle holders. A man and a woman in robes stood on the dais, welcoming smiles on their faces. We took our seats near the middle, and soon the temple was full to bursting. The preachers gave a short sermon, thanking Morgesa for her benevolence. They asked her to bless the harvest, and keep the congregation safe and healthy. They ended the service with singing, waving what looked like stalks of wheat and dried cobs of corn as they did so. Papa whispered to me that staple crops, like these, were symbols of Morgesa. He pointed to a painting of her, standing in a fertile field, with crops in her arms. Once the song was over, we gathered our goodies and headed home.

That night I had a very vivid dream. I stood in a fertile field, crops at my feet. "You are here for a reason, child." A feminine voice echoed all around me. "Here? In this field?" I wondered. "Here in this world, child." The voice said. It sounded amused.  "Why? Why was I brought here? And how? Why didn't I stay dead?" I asked aloud. "Our Creator brought you here. A crisis is coming. A soul like yours will be needed then." The voice responded. "What crisis? What Creator? What's going to happen?" I questioned the voice. "You will know all in time. You must grow to face what is coming. Eat well, rest often, stay healthy and safe." The voice instructed. "When will the crisis occur? Please, tell me more!" My voice was growing shrill. "Worry not. Your childhood will be peaceful. Go back to sleep now. Take care, child." The field disappeared, and I faded into a deep sleep.