SOFI
I felt like I was seeing double.
The girl—Darja—stood in front of me, whole and intact, white dress unmarred, blue cornflowers twined in her hair. Then she stepped toward me and my vision blurred—I could see through her. And on the other side was Darja again, the same girl, but this one was a twisted black husk of a body, dress a tattered burnt rag, cornflowers lost in the blaze. But she was still standing there; I could see her. Her eyes were huge as they met mine, her gaze beseeching.
“You can see me.” It wasn’t a question.
Her voice was thin, transparent like her body, and it seemed untethered, as if it came from far away and was whispered in my ear at the same time. A shudder crawled up my spine.
The Ceremony had wrapped up without me as I’d stood, transfixed with horror, wincing at piercing screams no one else seemed to hear, staring at this wraith no one else seemed to see. Voices were raised in song again, and while the other three girls also stood awkwardly in front of the pyre, a little dazed, the rest of the crowd had started to mingle, some still singing while others exchanged hugs and pleasantries, smiles and well-wishes.
Was I losing my mind?
I chanced a glance at the fire, where the plank had collapsed into the inferno and the charred remains of the body—the sacrifice—Darja—were no longer visible, swallowed by the flames.
The wraith girl, the other Darja, she was still there, her wild eyes raised as she scanned the crowd as well. As I watched, her outline wavered, fading into mist before solidifying again. I tore my gaze away. Maybe if I didn’t look, she would disappear and I could convince myself I had imagined it all.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
When I felt a hand on my arm, I nearly jumped out of my skin. Could I feel the girl too?
My eyes flew open to reveal my sister and mother standing before me, and my sister snatched her hand away from my arm.
“I’m sorry, Sofi,” she said hastily. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” When I just stared at her blankly, she grabbed my shoulders and pulled me in for a quick hug. “You did such a great job though. You didn’t forget a single word.”
Was she serious?
My mother gently pulled my sister back. “Give her some space, Hanna.” Then she betrayed her words by pulling me into her own arms for a tight squeeze. “I’m sure you have lots of questions, kallike,” she said, drawing back and holding me by my shoulders.
I sure as hell did, but I still couldn’t bring myself to do anything more than stare at her blankly.
“The Ceremony is over, so once the singing and visiting dies down, everyone will head home,” my mother explained. “You four girls will stay, as will I and the other mothers, and Eliise. We’ll talk for a while, explain everything, answer any questions you girls may have. Then you’ll each spend some time alone, holding vigil tonight.”
“It’s supposed to give you time to get used to the bond,” Hanna put in, a bit of a wry twist to her mouth. “You know, commune with the dead? But since it’s all symbolic, it’s really just boring as hell. Try not to fall asleep.”
“Hanna,” my mother gave her a quelling look. “It’s tradition.”
I blinked, trying to keep up, trying to listen, to slow my racing thoughts.
“Anyway,” my mother continued, “you’ll stay until dawn, then you’ll be able to go home and get some sleep. Don’t forget the Spring Day festival starts in the afternoon, and you and the other girls will have places of honor at the feast.” She paused and looked at me expectantly. I managed a dazed nod.
“Now, everyone wants to congratulate you before they leave.”
My mother stepped back, and with a start I realized a group of people had gathered behind her, clamoring in close once she’d moved aside.
I felt my grandmother’s bony arms go around me, my aunts and cousins pressing close, kisses on my cheeks, words of praise and congratulations that didn’t register. My attention was already gone, skimming over the dwindling crowd.
Darja was nowhere to be seen. Could I have imagined it? A hallucination brought on by the shock? Could I be so lucky?
The other three girls’ families had also crowded around them, offering hugs and well-wishes. Marta looked a little blank as well, her eyes glassy in the firelight as her mother gripped her hand. Liz and Anna were pale, but seemed to be at least able to interact with their families.
I searched for Darja again, scared I would find her. Scared I wouldn’t. There was no trace of her.
My mother’s hand slid into mine, pulling me gently forward, and I realized we were alone. My family had all left, joining the parade of onlookers that were heading back through the trees, bobbing flashlights visible in the distance before they were swallowed by the forest.
I kept my eyes on the ground, studiously avoiding looking at the fire, as my mother led me around to the other side and sat me down on one of the upended stumps positioned in a cluster around the fire. I complied, feeling like a rag doll as I collapsed onto the stump and continued to stare. My mother sat next to me, watching me with a mixture of caution and concern, but I ignored her, my mind still spinning in circles.
Had they really just murdered that girl? Burned her in a funeral pyre like some sacrificial animal? And why couldn’t she move? What had been wrong with her? And why the hell could I see her?
I felt pressure building inside me. Tears maybe, or hysteria, I didn’t know, but I tamped it down. My mom had said they would explain. She’d said they would answer all our questions.
Fifteen minutes later, the clearing was deserted. The roaring fire and the group of us hunched on logs were the only evidence that anything had happened here at all. At some point my mother had procured a thin blanket, which she’d wrapped around my shoulders, and I found myself gripping the ends tight, trying to ward off the chill.
The four girls and four mothers had each taken a seat on the circle of stumps. Silence had fallen, and they all looked expectantly at Eliise, who was settling herself into position on the last stump, directly across the circle from me, letting her cane fall to the ground next to her.
“Girls, first I want to congratulate you. You all did so well, and I’m so proud to be able to call you all members of our community.”
There was a murmur of agreement from the mothers, and Liz’s mom put in, “And you all looked so beautiful up there.” More agreement.
I tried to keep my focus on Eliise, waiting to hear the explanations, but it was hard to prevent my gaze from sweeping around the clearing, searching.
“In case your mothers haven’t yet told you what the rest of the night holds in store,” she went on, “we will talk as a group first, answering any questions you may have. And you may ask anything, not only about your Ceremony tonight, but any questions you might have about your roles as women in our community. This is sacred space, and you are safe here. We are here to help you with your transition into adulthood. After that we will separate so you may each have some time alone to adjust to the new bonds that have formed here tonight.”
I saw Anna and Liz exchange a glance across the circle.
“So, who wants to start?” Eliise said.
After a beat, Anna hesitantly raised her hand. Eliise gave her an encouraging nod.
“The girl, the…sacrifice. Was she…did she know?”
I leaned forward as Eliise gave Anna an understanding smile.
“Did she know the role she would play tonight, you mean?” Eliise clarified.
Anna nodded.
“Yes, my child. Darja has known for years that she was Chosen. Each member of Vaikesti has a different role that we play in order to serve our community. Many of us have more than one role. Parent. Teacher. Child. Elder. All of us make sacrifices. The Chosen are no different. They serve their community in their own way, and like the rest of us, they take pride in their service.”
Darja. Between one heartbeat and the next, she was there again, materialized out of thin air. She stood across the circle with her back to me, hunched forward with her face inches from Eliise.
“LYING BITCH!” Darja screamed.
I nearly fell off my log.
My mother shot me a concerned glance, and I looked wildly to Eliise, but she didn’t react at all. No one did.
“Liar,” Darja said again, her voice coming in a thick rasp and breaking on the word. “All of you. You never—”
But Eliise had continued on, and with the two speaking over each other, I couldn’t concentrate on either of them.
“Stop,” I said without thinking, meaning Darja, but they both stopped. Everyone turned to stare at me. I felt my face flush and I shook my head. “Sorry,” I mumbled. “Go on.”
Eliise gave me a queer look, but continued on, answering a question I hadn’t heard. I couldn’t focus on her answer though, because Darja had turned at my outburst and was staring at me again. She had a question in her eyes, but she didn’t voice it. I could see through her, see Eliise on the other side of Darja’s body, and I felt like my eyes didn’t know where to focus.
Darja slowly moved to the old woman’s side and raised her hand, tentatively reaching out as if to touch Eliise. I held my breath, and I didn’t know if the wraith girl had breath to hold, but she seemed to pause as well, anticipation clear in her rigid form before she extended her arm all the way. Her hand passed clear through Eliise’s body with no resistance at all.
I let my breath out all at once and saw Darja sag on her feet. She turned again to peer at me, and the expression on her face made me want to look away, but I couldn’t seem to bring myself to move.
We stayed that way for a long moment, Eliise’s voice reduced to a drone in the background, before Darja straightened and began to move. She walked across the circle toward me, and I shrank back, only relaxing when she sank to her knees in front of me. Slowly, hesitantly, she raised her hand, holding it up in front of me.
I couldn’t help it, I raised mine too. We both hovered there, hands in front of our faces, inches apart, breath held again. Her hand, so close, was so pale, so transparent, the flickering light from the fire passing through to cast no shadow on the ground. Mine was solid, real, trembling.
Our hands moved by millimeters, both of us clearly afraid, gazes locked on our outstretched limbs, heartbeats—mine at least—pounding rapidly.
When at last our hands met, it was like stepping into a pond and watching your reflection merge with itself. I don’t know which shocked me more, watching her hand disappear as it passed through me, or the shock of the ice cold sensation I felt as it happened. A gasp tore from my throat.
It took me a moment to register that the talking had stopped, another moment to realize that all the eyes in the circle were trained on me. My arm dropped like a lead weight.
“Sofi, are you all right?” It was my mother, concern on her face.
“Yes, I’m sorry, I just—” I cleared my throat, my cheeks flushing hotly. “Can no one else—?”
“Don’t!” This time it was Darja, her voice urgent as she glared at me with wide eyes. “Don’t tell them. Don’t say anything.”
“What? I—”
But she was gone. In the middle of standing up, she wavered and disappeared, and I blinked, trying to focus on something that was no longer there.
“Sofi?”
I pulled myself together with a monumental effort. “I’m okay. I’m sorry. I won’t interrupt again.”
There was a pause before the conversation resumed, several wary eyes still trained on me. I kept my gaze down, not meeting anyone’s eyes.
Eliise continued what she had been saying, answering one of the girls’ questions about the festival the following day, before glancing around the circle. “Are there any other questions? Marta? Sofi? You’ve been quiet.”
I shook my head; I didn’t know what I could possibly say.
Marta tentatively spoke up. “The bond, between us and…the, uh, koolis girl. You keep talking about it. Is it…I mean…” She glanced around the group. “What exactly are we supposed to be feeling?”
Eliise didn’t respond right away. The mothers exchanged glances. Eventually Eliise sat back and steepled her fingers, but before she could respond Liz cut in. “It’s not real, right? I mean, it’s just symbolic.”
Anna chimed in as well. “Are we not supposed to talk about it? Because I don’t feel anything, either. Were you bonded at your ceremony?” She directed the question at her mother, who seemed a little uncomfortable.
They all had my full attention.
Anna’s mother didn’t get a chance to answer her daughter before Ellise broke in. “The bond between the living and the dead is fundamental to our community,” she started, and I ground my teeth in frustration at the vague answer before she went on. “We know the bond is real, that it did exist; we have reports from the old country confirming it. We know at least two of the founding members of our community were bonded when they settled here. But it is true. It has been some time now since a new bond was forged.”
“How long?” Marta asked in a quiet voice.
“Generations.”
“But why do we keep doing the Ceremony then?” Anna asked.
The mothers looked shocked, and Eliise’s face was gentle but as unyielding as stone. “We honor our traditions. We honor our ancestors. We pay homage to the magic that rests silent within us, and pray that someday it will live again, and new bonds will be formed. Vaikesti is nothing without its past, its roots, and the moment we question that, we take the first step toward losing our magic forever.”
My mother nodded from her place by my side, and the other girls appeared thoughtful.
A long moment passed as the girls took this in, myself included. “What was the bond like?” Marta finally asked, her voice tinged with wonder.
Eliise’s eyes softened, and her voice was reverent and wistful. “I don’t know exactly. Our ancestors could communicate with the ohverdus, could see them and interact. But so much knowledge has been lost. We all must pray that we live to see another bonded pair in our lifetimes. In the meantime, we treat the bond as the sacred link that it is.”
I frowned at the non-answer. A sacred bond it may be, but something didn’t add up. I’d seen Darja’s eyes, before and after. I yearned to speak up and tell the others, but something stayed my tongue.
The conversation switched to more mundane topics then, and the mothers chimed in as the girls discussed their plans for the summer. I kept quiet though, avoiding my mother’s concerned gaze, and finally, after what seemed like forever, the conversation seemed to wind down.
“Are there any other questions, girls?”
When Eliise’s question was met with shaking heads all around, she retrieved her cane from the ground and used it to lever herself to her feet.
“Now is the time for contemplation,” she announced, brushing debris off the seat of her pants. “Your mothers will be going, and they’ll return to retrieve you when the sun begins to rise. Until then each of you will hold vigil alone, to contemplate your bonds and consider your new roles as adults in our community. I will remain here at the fire in case I am needed.”
I glanced around at the dark of the woods outside the circle of firelight and pulled my blanket tighter around my shoulders. I didn’t want to stay out here until dawn. I didn’t want to stay out here a minute longer than necessary, especially not with the spirit of an ohverdus that only I could see. Bonded or not, she horrified me. I wanted to go home, fall into bed, and forget any of this night had ever happened.
But instead I let my mother help me to my feet. Small side paths led away from the clearing like spokes on a wheel, and I followed as my mother clicked on her flashlight and led me down one of the paths, deep into the woods and away from the other girls. The path didn’t go far before the trees parted again to reveal a tiny second clearing where another fire had been constructed, this one small and clearly made to provide light and warmth for just one person. The flames crackled merrily, but I still shuddered at the sight of it. A small pile of firewood had been placed off to the side, and I settled myself unceremoniously down into the dirt beside the fire, wanting to avoid the images it brought to mind, but wanting its warmth more.
My mother hesitated before crouching down next to me and laying a hand on my knee.
“Sofi, are you okay?”
I nodded. She began to rise, her eyes still on me, before hesitating and kneeling low again. “I know the Ceremony can be hard sometimes. It’s a lot to take in. If you need to talk, or have any questions, you know I’m here for you, right?”
I nodded again. I didn’t know what else to do.
Finally she left, casting a worried glance over her shoulder. “I’ll be back at dawn.”
And then I was alone. I hoped.
The forest was loud in the dark of pre-dawn. Night animals rustled in the trees and insects sang loudly; the fire cracked and popped. The moon was bright overhead, and the stars were visible. I guessed it had to be around two or three in the morning. Hours to go before dawn.
I sat motionless, my eyes searching the perimeter of the clearing. I didn’t know what I was supposed to be doing, or thinking, or feeling, so I sat still, trying not to see the burning body, trying not to hear the screams, trying not to think at all.
When Darja phased back into existence, she was sitting by the fire as well. I flinched even though I’d half expected her to turn up at some point. She was huddled in a ball, knees tucked up under her chin, arms wrapped around her shins, and she stared blankly into the flames.
We sat together for a long moment, her staring into the fire, me trying not to look at her, before I gave up and cocked my head to face her.
“Can you feel it?” I asked in a low voice. “The fire?”
She shook her head, not meeting my gaze. “I can’t feel anything.” Her voice was a whisper.
I was quiet, not sure what to say. Eventually, she turned to look at me. “What do I do?”
I raised my shoulders in a helpless shrug, but she shifted her body to face me more fully. “Who are you?”
“My name’s Sofi,” I responded. “Sofia Ilves.”
“I know that,” she snapped. “I’ve been in your class once a week for years.”
I was taken aback. I hadn’t known who she was aside from one of the koolis girls. My face flushed at the realization.
“I meant, why can you see me? What makes you so special? Are we really bonded, like that lady said?”
I shrugged again. “It sure seems like it. Could you hear her? Were you still…there? When I couldn’t see you?”
She nodded. “It’s…different…like this. Being dead.” She seemed like she was trying the words out to see how they sounded. “I can’t seem to control my body very well. It comes and goes. But I’m still there, I think. I can hear, anyway.”
I took this in. “Why didn’t you want me to say anything? In the circle, I mean. You told me not to tell them anything.”
Anger darkened her translucent face. “Those liars. Murderers. Don’t trust them.”
“But maybe they can help us,” I protested. “Tell us what to do.”
“So they can hurt me more?” she bit out.
“They wouldn’t—” They would. They had.
“Why couldn’t you move, when you came in? The tajas, they were carrying you.” I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer. “Why didn’t you fight? Or scream?”
Darja’s face was unreadable. “They drugged me. Back at the koolis. Held me down and hooked me up to an IV. I couldn’t move a muscle.”
I sucked in a breath, then sagged a little. “But then you couldn’t feel—”
“I felt everything.”
A chill ran through me, bone deep, and I shuddered despite the warmth of the fire. I didn’t know what to say, so I said the only thing I could. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
She didn’t respond, just turned to stare into the fire once again. After a minute I turned too, and when I looked into the flames I could see the blackened body on the plank again, agony in her eyes. I didn’t try to fight the image this time, and I felt the wetness of tears on my cheeks as the image played over and over in my mind like a movie reel.
She didn’t speak again and neither did I. We sat in silent vigil, and waited for dawn.