BAILEY. WATCH FOR THE ECLIPSE.
How is this written in English? Why is it addressed to me - the real me?
Somebody knows my secret!
Amos dropped the note, letting it float to the wooden floor. He rushed over to the window and poked his head out.
It was difficult to see in the dark moonlight, but he was looking for the person who left the envelope. Amos squinted and scanned across the entire portion of the farm observable from his window. He was met with nothing but the quiet solitude of night.
Amos sucked his teeth and closed the shutters. He checked the lock for signs of a break, but there were none.
Leila definitely closed this... She said something about "the madness..."
Am I going insane?
Amos shook his head - that wasn't it. This was targeted.
There were a lot of things happening that didn't add up. Initially, he had just been grateful for a second chance at life. Now, it seemed like there were external forces at play.
He returned to where the message lay innocently on the floor and picked it up. He looked it over and over with wide eyes but no secret message revealed itself to him. There was no sinister purpose to it, other than letting Amos know that someone knew about his true identity - a veiled threat in the shape of a request.
Amos committed the note to memory. The handwriting, though smudged, seemed childlike and scratchy; unsure of itself. The wax seal was uniform and cold. The sender must be institutional enough to have used a stamp.
Should I know this seal?
It's too dangerous to ask Kien and Leila...
Amos crumpled the note and held it over the wick of that thin candle his mother had brought in. He watched the flames consume it with his heart beating like a drum trying to escape the cage of his ribs. The fire took to the dry paper quickly, licking up every last piece and erasing it from existence.
Amos stomped on the dregs of the fire, extinguishing the embers lest they light the house ablaze. He nodded in satisfaction, standing over the ashes of his secret resting in the wood grain.
This is far from over. My journey has only just begu-
"AMOS!" Kien's voice called from across the house, "BED! NOW!"
...
The next day, at breakfast, Amos assures his parents he rested well.
He did not.
All night, he lay under the scratchy patchwork blanket, staring at the ceiling. His brain was in overdrive, thinking through all the possibilities and implications of the message.
With his parents put at ease, and breakfast put in his belly, the group of three set out to the fields. The process of fertilisation and seeding had already been completed. Now, the farmers had to ensure that there were no weeds growing in their crop. It was an arduous process that spanned the entirety of the growth season.
The task required Amos' utmost attention so he didn't accidentally pull out an emerging wheat seedling. Luckily, the wheat was only just beginning to sprout[1] and Amos was able to target the more obvious, established plants.
The process involved using a small spade or pick, depending on preference, to dig out the weeds. Kien drilled into Amos the importance of getting out all the roots, or else the "Damned things will take over the whole field, then we'll have no crop!" They were placed in a bucket for sorting later.
Leila told Amos about the medicinal uses of some of the plants they removed, while others would be saved for pottage. Amos wasn't sure about weed soup for dinner, but after the back breaking work, he would probably take anything.
It was truly a great physical effort. Kien was right about the importance of weeding, but with the amount of wheat field the Aquilas possessed, the task became gargantuan. In an area of ten thousand square metres, it would be reasonable to expect millions of weeds to take hold.
As such, the grueling physical labour shortly induced pain in Amos' back, arms and legs. He was the youngest, though, so he wiped the sweat from his brow and kept working anyway. While he did so, his thoughts turned to last night's letter. It had become an obsession.
Someone knows.
He pulled a weed.
Knows who I am. Whose body this is. Where I live.
He pulled another weed.
Even worse - what if the soul is involved? What if that's how they found me?
Another weed in the basket.
The writing was in English. Shaky, true, but still...
There might be others. Others like me.
Bend. Dig. Pull. Basket. Next.
And how were they able to get to my window? It was locked, I'm sure. I would've heard it open - I heard the paper rustling.
The basket was getting full.
And the eclipse... Why? When? What happens if I don't?
No name, either. No explanation. Just a warning... Or threat. Both?
Amos wiped his brow and checked the position of the sun. It wasn't even midday yet.
The only identifying part of the message was the wax seal...
Pisces and twelve stars...
Argh! I can't protect myself from something I can't even see!
Amos continued spiralling like this for the rest of the day. Altogether, he managed to collect nineteen baskets worth of the weeds. The rest was a job for the coming weeks. When the sun set, Amos was only relieved the work was over. He went inside the farmhouse and fell asleep at the table with his basket still in hand. He dreamed of nothing.
Eventually, Amos was awoken by a gentle hand patting his shoulder.
"Wakey wakey, son," Kien's gentle voice cooed, "your mother made us some delicious weed soup!"
Leila was standing in the kitchen, in Kien's usual egg cooking spot. She held up a wooden spoon like a threat, "It's stew!"
"Sorry, dear!" Kien coughed, then looked at Amos, "delicious weed stew!"
"Mmm! My favourite!" Amos joked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. If he could have anything in the world at that moment, it would be an extra five minutes of slumber.
"There's my son!" Kien exclaimed. He took the dangling basket from Amos' hands and placed it in one of the store rooms. Leila served up three heaping bowls while he did so.
The stew was yellowed and runny, interspersed with streaks of wilted leaves and some kind of legume to give it a thickness. The steam wafted into Amos' face and his stomach growled. He ate ravenously. It wasn't too bad, all things considered.
After dinner, they all spent some time chatting and laughing. Amos' heart wasn't really in it. He was thinking about the wax seal on the letter.
"Hey, uh, Mum and Dad," he interrupted their banter, "weird question."
"Hit me!" Kien said.
Leila reached over the table and tapped his shoulder lightly. Kien shot her a look of mock hurt. "You asked for it," she shrugged.
Amos smiled. "I was just wondering... that is, um, I mean... I forgot what your star signs were..."
Leila looked at him with a grim expression, humour drained. "Well, your mother's a Gemini and I'm a Virgo," Kien laughed, "so if I catch the madness, keep a firesteel on hand!"
Not Pisces. That's one thing ruled out at least.
"Don't joke about the Drai, dear. They're a serious problem."
"Ahem. Sorry," Kien looked down at the table, then back at Amos, "You should really remember our birthdays anyway, boy."
Drai again... madness...
"Yeah, sorry," Amos said, rubbing the back of his head. He let the topic drop.
...
In the following week, Amos attempted to return to the Infinite Lake. He wanted to speak to his soul again. To seek clarification, information, anything.
Unfortunately for Amos, his parents were watching him like hawks. His recent behaviour had become so concerning to them that they rarely let him out of their sight. Perhaps the question about star signs and the conversation about Drai - whatever that was - had amplified their attitudes towards him.
At night, he would lie awake trying to cross the boundary between worlds with sheer willpower. He thought about it really hard. He tried meditating. He tried drawing pentagrams out of ash and he tried astral projection. He tried prayers and he tried mystic luck rituals from his old world that he had read about online. He tried falling - that was how he entered the Lake last time - from heights of increasing severity until he lost courage.
None of it worked. He remained, each and every time, squarely in reality.
Amos also made sure to watch the sky every night. He wasn't confident the letter had his best interests at heart, but the demand was too cryptic to resist.
Amos had previously remarked on the colours of the stars being different to those on Earth. He wasn't sure if this world had electricity, living in the countryside as he did. Regardless, its absence meant that light pollution couldn't obscure the stars from his sight. They were brighter and more plentiful than he had ever seen in his old world's sky. The cloudy nights made Amos feel an inexplicable sadness.
Ultimately, no matter how hard he looked or how hard he tried, there was no eclipse and no return to the Lake.
As the week progressed Amos became increasingly disquieted by the absence of any noteworthy events. It was like he had been reincarnated for no reason, no grand purpose.
Just to work on a farm.
[1] Wheat can take 5-10 days to emerge from the soil, depending on temperature.