Anissa went to the window and pulled back the curtain, gazing out towards the village and then towards the sky. Priya could see that it was dark and shadowy outside, the faint glow of Father Moon illuminating the dirt path that led from their house to the village square. There, in the distance, she could see the faint glimmer of candlelight, marking the path.
“It’s time,” Anissa whispered.
A nervous energy fluttered through Priya’s stomach. She blew it out, trying to steady her breath, but suddenly she felt like all the blood had drained from her hands, leaving her fingers cold.
“There, there,” Aaron said, taking Priya’s hands in his. His warm fingers rubbed her own, bringing warmth rushing back.
Anissa placed a hand on Priya’s back, rubbing slow and gentle circles. “I felt the same way when I went through my passage,” she told Priya. “But trust in The Mother. Anchor yourself to the flame. You will pass through.”
“Okay, okay, okay.” Priya pulled her hands from her father’s and shook them out. “I can do this. I can do this.”
She placed a hand on the door lever, paused, took one more deep breath, and opened the door.
The night air was cold, but her mother was there, beside her, draping a shawl over her shoulders.
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see shadowy figures on the path ahead. It was as it had always been on nights like this, for the passages of the other women in the village. A few cycles before, she had stood on the path, holding a candle as her cousin, Serah, walked to receive her passage.
“Father Moon be with me this night,” Priya whispered, echoing her prayer for earlier. She looked to the distant star, the sign of The Mother, the brightest star in the night sky. “Be with me through this passage, Mother.”
And she began to walk.
One foot after the other.
Priya could hear her mother’s footsteps swishing behind her.
She followed the path, leading her towards the center of the village where their holy house, The House of Eusou, stood.
As she walked, Priya saw all the maidens, mothers, and crones that stood in solidarity with her; silent, holding a single candle, their eyes watching her, their heads bowing slightly as she passed by.
Priya saw maidens that she had played with like a child; maidens who still haven’t had their first blood. She saw the mothers of the village that had helped raised her; feeding her or patching blooded knees. She saw the crones that would sit outside The House of Eusou telling stories or passing along the knowledge they had collected to whomever would sit at their feet.
When she passed by the carpenter’s house, she saw his two daughters, Thekla and Ami, standing outside next to their mother’s grave, each holding a candle while their free hand wrapped around the other in sisterly communion.
And then she was there, standing, just outside the doorway of The House of Eusou.
She paused before entering, steadying herself and her breath once again. “Mother, be with me,” she whispered and she felt her Anissa’s hand on her shoulder offering her strength and reassurance.
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“Remember,” Anissa offered, “to be open and ready to receive. Keep your channels open. Try not to cross your arms. Be firm in your place. Keep your focus on Eusou. And don’t leave the circle.”
Priya nodded and pulled back the bear skin that hung in front of the entrance. She bent low, humbling herself before Eusou, to enter the sacred space.
As she stepped inside the air changed, turning from a prickly cool to a comforting warmth, and with it so too the energy changed. There was a heaviness in the space; a heaviness and awareness that something greater than Priya’s self resided there.
A small fire crackled in the center of the space. The wood was already a dusky orange, splintering and popping in the heat, the smoke spiraling upward through a small opening on the roof. Sitting pillows were arranged around the fire, one for each woman present.
Tohki, the ancient medicine woman of the village, walked the perimeter of the space waving in an endless chain of circles a smoking bundle of salvia. A twisting column of smoke was left in Tohki’s wake. As she came to Priya, she paused, lifting the incense towards Priya’s forehead, then her navel, and back again three more times. Tohki did the same for Anissa before moving on, continuing her circuit around and around the space.
A small piece of ember floated down, resting in the palm of Priya’s hand. It burned hot for a second and then just as suddenly, the sharp tickle of pain vanished; the dark orange ember turning to a pale gray ash that left a smudge on her palm, a remembrance of its own passage.
Looking around the room, Priya noted the other women there.
Gal, the butcher’s wife. Her daughter, Galia, was a cycle younger than Priya and hadn’t reached her first blood, yet. Regardless of the age difference, Galia was Priya’s dearest friend. Galia always managed to find joy in the smallest and simplest of things. Oftentimes, Galia could be found in a meadow on the other side of the woods, braiding ringlets of flowers for the other girls in the village.
Asa, the widow of the village’s blacksmith was there, as well. Since his passing two winters ago, Asa had taken on the work of blacksmithing. After Aaron had helped her repair her roof, she had forged a beautiful wood axe. Its handle was strong, but bore an engraving of Eusou on one side and The Mother on the other, their arms reaching around the handle till they joined and linked; a story of how the world was formed.
And then there was her cousin, Serah. Sweet, sweet Serah who was in Priya’s place a few cycles earlier. She was less of a cousin and more of a sister to Priya. Many years ago, during a cold and harsh winter, Serah’s parents became sick and passed. As was the way of their community, Anissa, Aaron, and Priya had taken her in. Serah was recently joined in marriage to a farmer who lived outside the village. While it wasn’t but an hour’s walk, Priya still missed the close companionship she had with her.
As their eyes met, Priya smiled, mouthing the words, “Thank you.”
Serah offered her a wink in return before rearranging her face in a more serious manner that was more befitting the night’s ritual.
Anissa’s hand gently rested on the small of Priya’s back, guiding her forward. Anissa gestured for Priya to sit. It was the seat nearest the entrance, but when she sat, she faced away from it. Across from her, over the fire, Priya could see, painted onto the wall, the image of Ensou as a young man, hanging by one foot from a wooden beam.
She remembered the story. It was one she heard from Aaron, told countless times by the fire. Before Eusou met The Mother and created Terra, he wondered the inky blackness of night. He journeyed from star to star, moon to sun, searching for purpose. He tried naming himself, but in naming he gained nothing. As he was dancing across the night sky, his foot twisted and was snagged on a star, and he fell, hanging upside down for what felt like an eternity, until finally he learned what his true purpose was. As he hung there he began to unravel and see the mysteries of the universe around him and saw the ritual he must undertake to create a world and a being in his own image.
Anissa settled down on Priya’s right side and Serah on her left. Asa sat beside Anissa and Gal next to Serah. Tohki took the final spot, sitting opposite of Priya.
The skin of Priya’s exposed legs tingle from the intensity of the heat, but it relaxes her. She focuses on her breath. In and out. In and out. Raising her eyes, she looks across the fire and sees Tohki watching her. A small smile begins to grow across her wrinkled face. The air is thrumming with anticipation for what is to come and Priya can almost hear Tohki ask through the look shared between them, Are you ready? And she is, so Priya offers a small nod to Tohki. Tohki winks at her, shifting back and forth, settling deeper into her cushion, her legs crossed in front of her. She rests her hands, palms facing up, on her knees, and Priya does the same.
It’s silent now. Except for the crackling of the fire.