SOFI
We left Vaikesti in the middle of the night. As Stephen drove slowly through the silent streets of the town, I wondered if it would be the last time I would ever see this place. This town I’d practically never set foot beyond in my eighteen years of life, and might never see again.
The moon ducked in and out of scudding clouds, the streetlights casting yellow pools of light on the pavement as we moved like wraiths through the dark, still night air. Unwilling to leave Mirtel’s chickens to scrabble at soil that could no longer nourish them, we’d asked Ms. Kross to come gather them up and take them back to the koolis. I wondered what would become of them, what would become of the girls who lived there as well. Would there be more Spring Day sacrifices? Would any of our traditions continue? Who were the Vaikesti without their magic?
Darja was silent in the back seat, staring out the window as the town drifted by. Stephen was watching the road as he drove, though periodically his gaze would drift to me. His brow was furrowed, his knuckles tight on the steering wheel, and I knew he was worried. But I didn’t have any words of reassurance.
“Turn here,” I said suddenly, ducking to look out the window as my old neighborhood drew near on the left.
“Are you sure?” Stephen asked, his concerned gaze seeking me out again.
I nodded. “Just…just drive by. One last time.”
He didn’t seem convinced, but he made the turn, the darkened storefronts of the main road replaced by rows of quiet houses. My chest constricted as I took in the scene. The carefully manicured lawns were nothing but endless expanses of gray dirt, shining pale and dull under the streetlights. Flowerbeds were withered and dead, houses framed by desiccated bushes and skeletal trees.
“What’s that?” Darja’s voice drifted from the back seat, and Stephen slowed the car as we all turned to stare. It was the coroner’s hearse, parked in the driveway of a nondescript blue house with white shutters. The lights were on in the house and I could see bodies moving around, a shroud-covered figure laid out in the front room, shadows dancing on the walls behind them.
“Who…who is that?” Stephen asked, his voice a little shaky.
I met Darja’s eyes.
“That’s…Henri and Marleen Luts’ house,” I answered in barely more than a whisper. “They performed the first spell together at the town meeting.”
Stephen didn’t answer.
“So, it’s started,” Darja said flatly.
I swallowed hard. I knew she believed those who had used the magic deserved their fate, and while I understood where she was coming from, I couldn’t quite bring myself to feel the same. They hadn’t known. They’d been just as blind as I had been, once.
The car rolled into motion again.
My parents’ house was only a few blocks away, and Stephen slowed the car again as we drew near, rolling to a stop across the street. The house I’d grown up in was dark, the inhabitants thankfully asleep.
I wished I didn’t feel any emotions at the sight of the house. The coroner wasn’t here for my father yet, but he would be soon. I wished I didn’t feel sympathy for my mother, who would have to deal with the aftermath of his death. I wished I didn’t miss my sisters, didn’t feel a sense of loss at the closeness we’d once had.
But it didn’t matter. It was too late. There was nothing left for me here.
Mirtel’s scrawled words chased themselves through my memory. My heart keeps going back to the island.
My future lay far away, across the oceans in a place I couldn’t even imagine, where maybe I could find answers to questions I didn’t even know how to ask. Not here. Not anymore.
I looked up at the dark house one last time.
“Bye, Sprat,” I whispered, then turned to Stephen.
“Let’s go.”
Thank you for reading Season of Embers. The story continues in Season of Ashes: The Bonded Book 2. If you enjoyed the book, please consider leaving a review.