“Listen,” he ordered, “and tell me what you hear.”

It was a quiet December evening. They were standing on an edge of a forest, looking down to a broad valley. Far away, at its bottom, small road made its way through. Car lights sometimes flashed through the twilight.

“The wind. The road. Bells from the village,” she obeyed, trying to catch the sounds of the world around her. But according to Shadow’s face, she wasn’t doing well enough.

“A dog barking in distance. A bird of prey.”

But he just shook his head, unsatisfied and impatient: “No. That’s only the surface. Close your eyes. You have to listen better. You have to hear it.”

Hazel closed her eyes and tried to not be irritated. She felt a bit old to be scolded like a schoolgirl.

“The hum of the forest. The wind in the branches.”

“You already said wind.”

She opened her eyes again, frowning: “What about telling me what you want me to hear first?”

“When you’ll hear it, you’ll know,” Shadow snapped back. It seemed like she had the power. He could feel it in his fingertips that the magic was dancing around her, invisible, bare and waiting to be used. She had to be able to hear the Evening Song. Every spirit and even lesser creatures were. But then, he thought, maybe a little help wouldn’t hurt.

“Close your eyes and try to do as I say…”

She obeyed again, giving this nonsense one more chance.

“There is a wind,” she listened to his voice, as he touched her cheek, turning her face against the breeze, “see it. There is a snow falling from the sky, Hazel. Hear it. Don’t try too hard – effort is just in the way. Let it come to you, on its own…”

She breathed in the winter air and forced herself to let go of the tension just a little. What a strange day it was. One spent in the underground, adjusting to all the new sensations of a body that didn’t work entirely like the human body should. She felt things she had never felt before. She had her bees, obedient and ever present, listening to every shiver of her soul,5 and the world tasted differently. Her past was a blank slate now. She didn’t know where she came from, who she used to be, whom she used to love… And strangely enough, it didn’t bother her. She was perfectly centered on here and now, no questions about what was and no doubts about what will be. And everything that was now, seemed wrapped around the dark spirit of fear. Most of this day was a calm haze under his command. This impossible task of hearing something that wasn’t there disrupted her peace of mind, though.

Don’t try too hard, he said… She needed to start somewhere. To have some firm point. His fingers were still touching her face, a gentle touch, warm in the winter air. She began there. Let herself be grounded by that touch – and let the rest come.

The wind, not too strong, a tender power leaning against her. Its wheezing in her ears. The coldness of it – spiraling. Bright. Sharp edged. A thread of force running through her all being. Alive.

The snowflakes, whispering as they fell down from the sky. Silence that murmured with hundreds of quiet voices.

She slowly nodded. Now it was close. There was already a blurred idea of a melody, slipping through her fingers.

“Let yourself go below that…,” Shadow continued quietly, absorbed by her moment of revelation, “there you’ll hear it. Below the sounds of the human world.”

And then, there it was. Silent sounds, like a singing ice, like screeching of the forest in a storm, like rustling whispers of sand in the wind – and then like something that didn’t belong to the world she knew. The sound of the last sun rays before sunset. A singing of the deepening shadows. Hazel didn’t just hear it – she felt it throughout her whole body, shimmering like a candle flame. And it made sense. It belonged within her – and all of a sudden, she felt where she belonged, too.

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Hazel looked up at Shadow with her eyes wide open: “I think I know my duty, now.”

“Of course you do,” the dark spirit smiled, “you heard the hum of belief and magic themselves. We all do.”

It was hard. Pressing against her chest like a boulder. Every remaining shred of her humanity was telling her that she’s about to do something unforgivable, something terrible and vile. But the rest of her being yearned for it. It seemed as natural as walking on the ground. As right as a smile. And irresistible – so bloody irresistible…

Hazel leaned in through the closed window, letting her bees fly inside, circling an older woman who was knitting by the radio.

Close, closer, the whispering of her power buzzed in the air. Let her feel. Let her see.

Hazel closed her eyes. She couldn’t read her story yet, but she felt it already in painful, sharp forms.

The magic bent to her will effortlessly, forcing the hidden truths to the surface. The woman stopped her work, looking up at the small shelf, almost reaching for a framed photo of a young man. Then she broke into tears.

Next to the picture there was a letter announcing his missing from the battlefield. A small official stamp held a date: five years ago.

Since that letter came, this mother didn’t grieved, nor lived. Five years she spent in deadly hope.

Black bees harvested their prize and Hazel gasped.

She just hurt a complete stranger – and yet. It was right. As if she was born to do that.

It was thrilling to watch her learn and work. Hazel didn’t do just well. It was a ruthless power she was given, one that could scare away a human heart. But with every other person she visited, she was more and more certain of herself.

“It’s hurting them,” she flinched at one moment.

Shadow caught her hand before she could call the bees away.

“Yes. And?”

A beat of uncertainty - should she let him hold her or pull her hand back? But then she looked at him: “It feels like it has to be done.”

“Then do it.”

The ancient spirit of fear knew exactly what she meant. And Hazel was starting to understand her own feelings, too.

The result of her efforts was catharsis.

A hope for change wrapped in suffering.

The more he saw, the more in awe he was. The display of her abilities meant only one thing – Hazel wasn’t just a soul caught in their world. Not just a lesser spirit either.

Shadow watched her, his own excitement building with every moment by her side.

This whole plan to bring her in was a mere gamble at first. He didn’t dare to predict its result nor if she’d be of any use at all. Hazel could become only a proof that the belief in magic didn’t weaken as much as he feared yet, that it was still able to catch a drifting soul. All he really wanted was a reassurance that things weren’t too bad, yet - and maybe a bit of company. His life was painfully lonely and hopeless for a long time now.

But this woman proved herself to be a much greater gift. And he felt more alive than ever in the last two centuries.

“Deqspair” he laughed finally, “in the middle of this awful war, you became a spirit of despair!”

She repeated it silently, tasting that new title herself, a spirit of despair. It seemed… apt to the tonight’s experience. There was certainly a lot of despair to be seen.

“Doesn’t that make sense though? In the war I mean?” she tilted her head, the bees flying around her legs in lazy circles.

“Sense? It used to make sense, once,” he nodded with a strange glint in his eyes that made her brace herself in caution, “maybe with you, it could again.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will, in time. You belong to me, Hazel,” Shadow grinned at her, “and fear and despair, in these times… What we can achieve together!”

Though technically right, there was something in his joyful, careless phrasing that made her grit her teeth.

“My loyalty belongs to you, Shadow,” she corrected him quietly.

That forced a small pause in his exhilaration. “Well, that’s… the same thing-“ but the glare she shot him made him add: “isn’t it?”

“Just almost,” she crossed her arms.

He gave her one unreadable look, but in the very end, he decided to wave a hand over it. She was truly a real spirit after all. She should be proud.

“Very well then. Still… you have no idea how important you might be, Hazel.”

“That is true,” she nodded grimly, “I have no idea. Then you probably should start to explain.”

The dark spirit just breathed out and hid his hands in the pockets of his cloak, though. Hazel was a wild card, even if bound to him by promise.

“Indeed, but not today, my dear new friend. I have work to do of my own. Go on, have fun with the world. Learn.”

“Learn?” she raised an eyebrow, “that’s all?”

“That’s all you need, now,” he shrugged and disappeared in the night.

She sighed in frustration. It felt like being immersed in a story where no one bothered to explain what’s going on. Actually… It was exactly like that. Whether Shadow didn’t trust her enough to tell her everything or whether he had other plans, she couldn’t say.

But fine then. Let’s see what the world has in stock for her.