The Garden (Into Shadow, #1)

by Tomi Adeyemi

Angelo looked like he had been born to step into the unknown. Lęina had always been told she was born to stay at home.

She could smell sadness like a fragrance sprayed in the air. Something young girls dotted behind their ears. She smelled the way men carried sadness in their chests, always given to them by their fathers, or a girl who broke their heart.

“I think men are afraid of their fathers,” Lęina continued when Angelo didn’t answer. “Afraid. Or at odds. Sons used to replace their fathers. Now both live too long.”

“I think you are drawn to the familiar.” Angelo smiled. “As people, we all are. We go to what feels the same. Even if that feeling is pain.” Lęina stared at the journal on her lap—was that what this tome was? Old pain bound in leather skin? Something familiar she was willing to follow till her end? “Does that mean we can never change?” Angelo shook his head. “I think we can always change.” Angelo shrugged. “You just have to be willing to walk away from the pain.”

“My mother told me of a garden . . .” Lęina spoke slowly. “A place where the moon was always full. She spoke of a land where orchids bloomed at her feet and the air was wild and sweet, and the trees were always heavy with ripe mangoes. “My mother told me of a garden . . .” Lęina spoke slowly. “A place where the fern first learned to grow. A place where patterns formed from the chaos, and rivers ran with ancient knowledge, and even the smallest girl could summon the fiercest snow. “My mother told me of a garden . . .” Lęina spoke slowly. “A soil where every flower could grow. The only cost of admission was your old soul. “My mother told me of a garden . . .” Lęina spoke slowly. “A place where the first rivers met. She spoke of a place where ravens danced with stars, and every woman released her scars, and queen bees traded their stingers for crowns. “My mother told me of a garden . . .” Lęina spoke slowly. “A place where the day twisted into night. A place where weary travelers could find refuge and reconnect their hearts to all of their darker lights. “My mother told me of a garden . . .” Lęina spoke slowly. “A place deep in the forest where you could always hear the crashing ocean waves. My mother told me of a garden . . . she followed it to her grave.”

From what her mother had written, Yuliana hadn’t even used a guide to get this far. She’d found her way to this very trail with her mahogany eyes and her native tongue.