"Why am I so cold?"
Sorcha stood at the edge of the ring of light, the Samhain bonfire to her back, facing out toward the ancient forest beyond the edge of the village. Mist lingered at the tree tops, hanging on by silvery tendrils to the darker boughs. A thin veil of wispy fog could be seen weaving in and out of the trunks, forming translucent threads floating just above gnarled, twisted roots. A moment ago, she could still feel the bonfire's warmth soothing her. Here, at the edge of the light, she suddenly felt uneasy.
She knew of no reason to feel apprehensive, despite what had happened to Teagan a year and a day ago. After all, it was not uncommon, although infrequent, for villagers to go missing in this forest. Were it not for the fertile lands for crops and excellent grazing pastures, the village surely would have relocated by now. Last year at this time, it would have been Teagan performing the Samhain ritual: offering the sage, rosemary, and handful of grain to the fire, and placing the milk, bread, and hollowed out turnips filled with glowing embers at the edge of the forest. As it was, this year Sorcha claimed the honor and risk.
The rituals had all gone perfectly this evening. Sorcha had tossed the herb bundle into the bonfire and heard the elders chant words of appeasement to the aos sí. The bonfire would serve to protect, cleanse, and communicate with the Otherworld. She had then passed around the bonfire, beyond its circle of light, all the way to the edge of the forest. There, she had placed the offerings at the base of the largest tree -- an oak that was ancient before her ancestors had even learned to farm. The glowing turnips would serve to guide the spirits of the dearly departed that might wander homeward this night. She had then backed away, her eyes never leaving the darkness of the forest, until she saw out of the corner of her eye that she was about to step back into the light of the bonfire.
A chill wind blew over her, stirring her cornsilk hair this way and that behind her shoulders. The fineness and color of her hair was what had earned her the name Sorcha -- "brightness." It was as light as Teagan's had been dark. Teagan... "beautiful..." She could almost hear Teagan's voice on that child wind, whispering...
"You, darkness, that I come from
I love you more than all the fires
that fence in the world,
for the fire makes a circle of light for everyone
and then no one outside learns of you..."
Sorcha turned her head slightly, and thought she could make out a shape just behind the great oak. A moment later, the shape stepped away from the tree. The shape approached Sorcha and, doing so, coalesced into the outline of a person, one dearer to Sorcha than any other: Teagan, twin sister, seeming almost but not quite the same as she always had been. Tonight she was less real, somehow. Her hair had always been as dark as night, but her skin was paler than it should be, and her clothes seemed drained of color.
When she was ten paces from Sorcha, Teagan stopped. Sorcha reached out to her, beginning to take a step away from the light and approach her, but Teagan held up her hand to stop her. Then Teagan spoke, and Sorcha realized it was her voice a moment ago.
"But the darkness pulls in everything-
shapes and fires, animals and myself,
how easily it gathers them! -
powers and people-"
Teagan lowered her hand, and, taking a step backward without turning, whispered, "You forgot to turn around, Sorcha. After you placed the offerings, you were supposed to turn around, walk towards the bonfire, and not look back."
More shapes were emerging from the forest at this point, disturbing the mist along the ground. They made no noise, but Sorcha could feel their strangeness. They were of the aos sí, not of the dearly departed of the village.
"Turn around, Sorcha, and walk back into the light. All will be well." So saying, Teagan took another step back, then another, eventually fading into the darkness of the oak tree.
As if released from a hold she wasn't aware she was under, Sorcha turned her back on her sister and the aos sí, and stepped back into the light of the bonfire. Doing so, the sense of strangeness and fear faded, just as her sister had.
Sorcha realized that she knew the words that Teagan had whispered to her, and finished the poem as she moved to rejoin her village.
"and it is possible a great presence is moving near me.
I have faith in nights."
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