I was 12 years old and I had never left the city before. My entire life had been spent gazing out the window to a bustling world of smog and listening to the clicking of carriages along the road outside. I was used to tall buildings and busy streets. Even as I spent my days resting in bed, hidden behind glass, I felt that I lived in a world of movement. Compared to the glamor of the city, I was sure that the countryside would be slow, gloomy and gray. Surely there, where my friends could no longer visit me, and I couldn’t even dare to dream of attending school again, I would be even more secluded than I was before. But no matter how much I expressed this to my parents, my mother’s decision was made; I was going to live in the countryside with my grandmother until I had completely recovered.
That morning, my mother bundled me into a heavy coat, wrapping a scarf around my neck as if that alone could defend me from the threat of disease. My father and brother were waiting in the foyer, watching us seriously. My brother was missing school to say goodbye. I felt doom weigh upon my shoulders. This is it. I thought. They finally can’t deal with me anymore. My father bent down to hug me and whispered in my ear; I couldn’t hear him but I let my head fall against his shoulder, trying to absorb his warmth. My brother then bent down to hug me too and I did my best to wrap my arms, trapped in the stiff coat, around him.
“Get well okay?” he whispered to me. “Get well and come home.”
They all looked at me that way, as if they were sad to see me go but knew they wouldn’t see me again. Why send me away? I wanted to ask. If you’re sad that I’m leaving then why are you making me leave? Instead I just smiled and nodded, unable to think of anything meaningful to say. With a final wave goodbye, my mother and I boarded the carriage and made our way to the train station at the center of the city. I stared out the windows and followed my mother listlessly along as we made our way through the station and boarded the train. She spoke to me on the way there but I was too upset to truly reply.
I used to be a stronger person. I was rarely sick as a child and quickly recovered from injuries without much fuss; several winters in a row I had played outside in the snow everyday and yet never fallen ill. But, a strange illness had overtaken me one summer and I had never been able to shake it. Every time it seemed that I would be well again, the symptoms, the fever and headaches worst of all, returned in full force. Doctors recommended various treatments over the next few years, warm baths, special diets, and medicines for the pain, but seemed unable to truly understand it. It was after several years of this that my mother decided her mother, infamous for her strange lifestyle and knowledge of herbs, was my only hope.
The train ride passed slowly that day as the crowded city gave way to rolling hills and small towns. It was still early morning when we left and the world was painted a shade of cool blue. The sky was gray and fog flowed over the mountains, weaving its way through the hills. At the station, a small carriage was waiting, my grandmother’s maid smiling at us behind the reins. She introduced herself as Adrienne and my mother spoke to her quickly while I stepped into the carriage. We bumped along the stone and dirt roads, leaving the small town behind and entering a winding path through the forest. The trees were tall and foreboding and the forest seemed to extend out forever around the town. A layer of snow coated the ground and the tops of the trees.
When we finally reached my grandmother’s estate, I slid closer to my mother, leaning against her while I stared with wide eyes out the window. It was not an especially large cottage, smaller even than our family home in the city but it was clearly old and sturdy. There were small gardens and snow-covered grass around the house but the horizon was hidden by thick trees. My grandmother stood in front of the house, wrapped in a thick blue shawl with her arms hugged around her. Her light gray hair was pinned in a neat bun and she lifted a hand delicately to wave at us.
The carriage came to a halt and my mother helped me to step out of the carriage before turning and wrapping her mother in a large hug. My grandmother accepted it with grace before approaching me and delicately wrapping her arms around me. I returned the hug with the awkwardness and reluctance of youth. I was told that I had met her before but I had no memory of it. She stood back up, holding my shoulders as she spoke with my mother. I have little recollection of their conversation, though it was surely about me. Perhaps I was just too tired to once again hear someone describe my condition.
My mind was racing as my imagination played vivid daydreams of what life with my grandmother would be like. The strange rumors about my grandmother were an unspoken topic at home but I had still overheard a few fierce discussions between my parents regarding her ‘concerning behavior’. She says strange things, spends too much time in the woods, she’s a northerner and everyone knows what they are like.
But, it quickly proved to be a meaningless exercise because I soon found myself once more in bed, tucked in the blankets by the caring hands of my mother. She gave me a small tentative hug, gazing at me with calm but sad eyes.
“It’s not forever honey. I promise. It’s just until you get well.”
I stared at her blankly, unsure what to say. How could I explain that I didn’t think I’d ever get better? I wanted to respond snidely, to make her feel the regret and churning in her stomach that I felt. But I also knew that I wouldn’t see her for a long time after today.
“I know, mom.”
That marked the first day of my life in the small town of Tiene and the first of a long week spent in my small room, tucked in the corner of my grandmother’s home. For the first few days, it was all I saw as I lay in bed burdened by a cough that the trip north had reignited. My grandmother left me alone that first day and was a quiet presence by my side for the next few days as I struggled to comprehend that this was my new home. Her maid brought me most of my meals and the occasional herbal tea and I spent much of my time sleeping.
For a while, the days passed like that. I spent most of my time indoors, lying in bed or wandering around my grandmother’s home. She had a large library with many beautiful books but I never had the patience to read more than the first few pages. Instead, I wandered along looking at their covers, curious what I could discover about my grandmother. The cough that had returned since the journey still plagued me but I felt well enough that I was reluctant to only stay in bed. In the back of my mind, I always feared that it would come back even worse and each coughing attack made me anxious and jittery. My grandmother ate meals with me but seemed content to disappear each day into different rooms and into the forest, busy with her own affairs.
I gradually became accustomed to my grandmother and her idiosyncrasies. An interesting mix of contradictions, my grandmother was as elegant and graceful as she was forward and audacious. She held the charisma of the rich duchesses which dominated social affairs in the capital…at least until she pushed up her sleeves and began to work in earnest. I found it difficult to understand her, difficult to determine her place in society as it had been so clearly defined to me by school.
But after about a week, I awoke to sunlight as my grandmother happily pushed the curtains of my bedroom to the side. She seemed to walk with a renewed vigor as she moved around my room and eagerly encouraged me to sit up before coming to rest on the bed beside my legs. She gazed at me with a smile in the corner of her lips.
“We’re going to go into town today”, she said.
I stared back at her, my mind still dozy with sleep.
“What do you mean? Why would we do that?” Didn’t she know I was here to rest? I wondered.
She looked at me frankly, “I have a few things that I need and you need to get up and out of this room. Now, come along! The sooner we leave the better.”
She stood up and left my room with a quick turn, the silence of the room loud and noticeable without her. Her maid quickly came in and began to help me get dressed. My protests fell on deaf ears and before I knew it, I was fully dressed and obediently dragging on a heavy winter coat.
For the third time that morning, I found myself asking, “Are you sure? Being cold only makes me sicker; shouldn’t I stay in bed for a few more days?”
My grandmother was unimpressed. “You’ve spent enough time in that bed already. You came up here to breathe the clean air, and I’m going to show you where it is clearest.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. Part of me was excited to finally leave, to finally see other people and the outside world but I worried that I would only return sicker. It felt like I didn’t belong out there anymore. Regardless of my grumbling, we left that afternoon and headed into the small village where I had first arrived.
As we sat in the carriage, my grandmother turned to me, watching carefully as she spoke,
“From now on, I’d like you to accompany me as I take care of things. You’re old enough that you can help me to brew tea and I’d like to show you the forest.”
I couldn’t help the sarcasm in my voice, “Will any of the teas make me better?”
She met my gaze, “I can’t say. We’ll have to try.”
She paused for a second, looking at me contemplatively, “There’s something else I’d like to try, but it will be difficult. We can only do it if you promise to put in your utmost effort.”
“I will. I promise.”
Without explanation, she nodded and the conversation came to an abrupt end.
‘Town’ was only a small collection of shops, nothing like the busy shopping streets of my last neighborhood. Not that I could claim any expertise; I hadn’t been out shopping for over a year since I had gotten a bad coughing attack while out with my mother one day. Still, I fancied myself a girl of the city and was decidedly unimpressed with the whole affair. As we walked along, I bundled deep in my coat, eager to keep the cold out and likely appearing much like the grumpy and displeased child that I was. My grandmother stopped in a few shops and spoke amicably with the owners; they treated her politely as if she really was a noble lady. I found myself looking over everything in curiosity and, despite my doubts, felt relieved that I did not feel as much of an outsider as I had feared.
We had left late in the morning and the sun was already setting by the time we returned to the carriage. On the way home we once more made our way through the thick trees along the winding path to her home. The air was cold and we could see our breath. The moon was a thin crescent and it was hard to see anything past the glow of the lantern hanging from the front of the carriage. I stared out into the forest, struggling to fathom the pure darkness which lay beyond the trees. Then, just in the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of yellow eyes. I jumped in my seat, chills running up my spine. I leaned forward into the window to try and spot it again but all I could see was black.
When we returned home that day, we ate a quiet but comfortable dinner together. My mind kept flashing back to what I saw in the woods. Yellow eyes staring back at me from the depths.
My grandmother appeared content to enjoy our meal in silence but I knew I had to ask. “Are there wolves nearby?”
She glanced up at me curiously, “Wolves? Why would you think that?”
“I saw something in the woods. Yellow eyes. I thought maybe it was a wolf.”
As I spoke, my grandmother straightened in her seat and smiled at me, “Yellow eyes, you say? Well, that’s a very good sign, Lucia. It looks like you’ve been welcomed to our forest.”
I looked at her in surprise, “Welcomed? What do you mean?”
“There are many creatures living in these forests, dear. Not all of them are animals.”
I stared in disbelief, “A creature? So close to humans?”
“Why do you think it’s here? It protects the animals which descend to the south in the winter.” She smiled at me, “You were very lucky to see it. It will likely return to the north soon.”
“But if it’s here to protect the animals isn’t it a bad thing that I saw it?” I questioned.
She looked thoughtful, “Are we not animals? Please don’t worry Lucia. It is a benevolent being, I promise. Some even say it can perform miracles and grant great favors to human travelers.”
With a final smile over her glass, my grandmother brought our conversation to an end and we returned to silence. But, as I lay in bed that night, all I could think about were eyes watching me from the woods. If it was a spirit… was it more like an animal or a human? I found myself shivering at the idea. Did it know who I was? Would I see it again? I had never learned about such creatures before except in passing and all stories were ones of danger and caution. Grandmother said it even granted miracles… I delicately stepped out of bed, feet cold against the wooden floor and with a final, quick glance at the forest, closed my curtains.
The next few weeks passed slowly and quickly at the same time. I had become unaccustomed to waking and being given tasks everyday; it was a shock to suddenly have responsibilities and expectations placed on me. I rushed through my grandmother’s storeroom, gathering herbs and bringing her various books. Any joy I felt at this change was undercut by my health which only worsened as time passed. I drank one tea every morning for a week before my grandmother deftly suggested another and we abandoned the previous plan. My hope that she would use her mysterious ways to finally fix me faded more each day. I felt a growing anger instead. What was I doing here? What was the point of taking me from my family and my life just for me to stay the same? My grandmother seemed undaunted by the continual failures but I was convinced that she too was burdened by our lack of success. In my mind, she felt the same as my family at home; unable to help me and exhausted from trying. Surely, she was frustrated that she had been forced to waste so much time on me?
It seemed that my fears had finally come to pass when one day she asked me to come sit beside her in the drawing room. I sat across from her, certain she would confirm my suspicions.
She looked at me seriously, “It’s time for you to keep your promise.”
I stared back, unsure how to answer. “I’ve been doing my best.”
“I know, dear. But, clearly the teas are not enough. I fear it’s time to take more drastic measures…but we can only do so if you understand the dangers involved.”
“What are you talking about?” I felt myself growing frustrated. “Just tell me what it is that you want me to do.”
She leaned forward, her voice calm and low, “I’m talking about magic.”
I stared at her in silence for a few seconds. Suddenly the rumors about her seemed understated. “I’m not licensed, I’ve never even been tested. I can’t use magic.”
She scoffed, “No one is or isn’t capable of magic, Lucia. It’s simply a question of how much of yourself you are willing to give and what you are ready to do with it.”
“Even if I could learn magic, how would that fix my illness? I thought magical healers cannot cure diseases?”
"Unfortunately, no they cannot; magic is not so simple. But, I’m beginning to suspect what is wrong with you is not a simple disease.” She paused, staring at me intently, “I’m saying, Lucia, that I fear your very soul is in danger, far more than your actual body. And if you ever wish to become cured, your best hope is to learn to control the energy inside you.”
Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
I felt tears bubble up. This is ridiculous. I choked out, “How can my soul be sick?”
“Truthfully…I don’t know. But, I’ve heard stories about such things. I suspect you saw that spirit for a reason. Perhaps he saw something in you, saw that you needed help. I think it is best that we heed their warning.”
I felt like everything was crumbling around me, it seemed my grandmother had come to see the same deficiencies I found in myself. I stared down at my lap.
My grandmother leaned forward, placing her hand on mine.
“Lucia, I know that you have been taught to fear magic and I won’t lie to you that there are very real dangers. But, I will be here to guide you and together I believe we can find a way to cure you.”
I thought again of my life at home, the friends I hadn’t been able to see in so long, the days spent watching as each family member departed to live their lives in the outside world. I thought of my cough and of the headache that seemed to worsen each day no matter whether I spent it in bed or not. I just want to live a normal life.
I looked up at her, “Okay.”
The next day, my grandmother woke me early in the morning and we dressed warmly with thick gloves and hats on. The sun was still low in the sky and was barely visible through light gray clouds. Thick snow covered the ground from a recent passing storm. We made our way to the open field behind the house where a small trail led into the woods. I could see footsteps in the snow and I wondered if my grandmother had already gone on a walk that morning. We walked along the path in silence, except for my occasional coughs and sniffles, until we reached a small pagoda beside a frozen lake. My grandmother took a seat inside and I awkwardly followed her, sitting stiffly in my many layers.
She stared at me and I felt unsettled as I stared back into her light blue eyes. They seemed different somehow, as if they were brighter and more clear.
“I’m sure it's been impressed to you that magic is the foolish attempt to bend nature to our will. Here in Sefreene, magic is a tool only the most privileged may wield and that is feared by all others. It must be wielded for the good of the country.” She began, her voice displeased. I nodded, trying to recall what brief explanations my teachers had provided before I had stopped attending.
“But, in the north, in my homeland, Ellivese, it is a private practice and one which any person may choose to pursue.” She stared out onto the icy lake, lips pursed, then looked back at me intensely.
“You must understand Lucia, that magic is not a weapon to change the world around you. In fact, it is the very opposite. You must change yourself so that you may become part of the world.” She paused and seemed to think about her words, then began again, her hands in the air motioning around us as she explained, “Everything is filled with energy, it is always moving, always alive. For humans, it is what we call our soul. To use magic, you must allow your very soul to change -– to become like the elements you wish to control.” As she spoke, snow began to softly fall.
“But how can you change your soul?” I questioned. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed like the cold was creeping in around me. “And what if you can’t change it back?”
She smiled at me. “Don’t worry Lucia. I will teach you to be able to see the energy in this world and how to maintain your soul. Only then will I teach you how to change it.”
I struggled to hide my discomfort as I asked, “So that can happen then? Not being able to change it back?”
She pursed her lips again, her face becoming stern as she reminded me, “I told you it would be dangerous. Practicing magic changes you, that is undeniable. Sometimes people change too much…and they’re unable to find their way back.” She paused. “Some say that's what the creatures of the woods are.”
I startled and leaned forward, “The creature in the woods was a human?”
My grandmother tilted her head in thought, “Perhaps. Or perhaps it was an animal.” She smiled. “That is only one theory dear. Others believe that we were once such beings before we took on human form. In the north, they say that we were once creatures of ice and snow until a long winter; instead of dissolving in the wind, our bodies of ice stayed frozen for many years until we had become solid beings, not just creatures of energy.”
I thought back to the flash of yellow eyes that I had seen. I couldn’t believe that it was once an animal let alone a human. Nor could I imagine it becoming human.
My grandmother said, “Now, it is time for you to learn how to see magic.”
For the next hour, I attempted to meditate, to feel the world moving around me and my place in it. I struggled to follow her instructions and closed my eyes, imagining the world flowing like the soft snow swirling in the wind. I tried to picture my soul, a ball of light within my chest. Every time I attempted to open my eyes, my grandmother stopped me, placing her fragile hands across my face.
“You must understand before you can see,” she scolded.
The next few days we repeated the same pattern, walking to the pagoda in the morning and spending over an hour meditating in the cold. Each day she told me more stories from her homeland and the local stories about the benevolence of the creature of the woods.
Finally, on the fifth day, when I was able to feel the energy circulating within me, she told me to open my eyes. I had never seen anything like it in my life. The boundaries of the world had fallen away and energy flowed through everything like I could see the brush strokes which had painted the world. The gray of the clouds, the green of the trees, the white of the snow waxed and waned as they swirled beside each other. I looked down upon my hands and gasped. Instead of skin, my body glowed a light blue and filled with swirling energy. Across from me, my grandmother was a swirl of dark blue like the sky at twilight. Her eyes still shone a light blue.
“Good job, Lucia.” Her voice was clear and sharp. “Now let it go.”
I blinked rapidly, struggling to return to the world I was used to. How could I go back to the normal world after seeing this? I forced my eyes shut, attempting to ground myself in the feeling of my feet touching the ground and the cold numbing my face. Finally, I opened them again and was returned to the normal world.
My grandmother smiled, “You did very well, Lucia. Now we will begin training so that you can switch back and forth quickly and easily.”
Once more the process of learning began again as we practiced seeing the circulation of energy each morning. The easier it was to enter and exit the world of power, the more my hope grew that this was the way I could finally cure myself. My body, however, seemed to feel differently and each day I found myself going to bed earlier and waking slower. My lungs ached from coughing and my voice became hoarse. I felt urgency pressing upon me. I wondered if I could even survive long enough to save myself. Sometimes I thought about the creature in the woods and its supposed miracles.
My grandmother said nothing to me and I was too scared of her agreeing with my fears to broach the subject. And so, we continued our daily practices until I could quickly change my vision between the two worlds. I wrote to my mother occasionally and received letters in return but I told her nothing about magic and had no doubt that she omitted any bad news from home. I had already been there for several months and my life at home seemed increasingly distant.
Once I was able to enter and leave the world quickly, we began to practice recognizing our own energy. It was strange, to attempt to see myself beyond my body, which had determined so much of my life in recent years. But it was also freeing. To escape the physical pain, to envision a world in which I was just as connected to the world as any other. I tried to imagine changing myself, converting the energy I had come to recognize as my soul into something else and it made me tremble with fear. I doubted I would ever be ready to do such a thing but I feared it was the only way for me to heal.
My grandmother told me stories of the ice people who could become as cold as fallen snow and survive many weeks out in freezing temperatures. As well as of the ancient tribes which once lived in Sefreene who could grow into fierce animals. The possibilities were as inspiring as they were overwhelming.
Until one morning, I woke up and my ribs, exhausted from coughing and aching with pain, prevented me from sitting up. Too weak to walk to the pagoda, my grandmother decided to delay our next lessons and I found myself once again returning to my daily life in bed. This time, my grandmother stayed at home and often read or mixed herbs at the little table across from my bed. Her maid brought us both meals and we continued to eat together. My grandmother told more stories about magical creatures and I did my best to remain happy and hopeful. But, it felt like the world which had been opened for me was once again closing in and this time I would be unable to escape. Outside my window, snow fell and swirled through the air, piling up in front of the house.
And so time passed like this and despite my wishes, I remained in bed, forbidden from practicing magic. My last hope was withering away before my eyes and increasingly I felt certain that only one path lay before me. The creature. The yellow eyes in the night. It was my only hope. But how can I find it? I wondered. Surely I couldn’t just run into the woods, wandering until I saw it. Would it even wish to be seen or was my grandmother wrong and it was simply a strange fluke which allowed me to see it that day?
I pondered these thoughts one night, sitting propped up and staring out my window. The moon was large, almost full, and its light cast a silver light across the snow in front of the house. The world outside was dark and still. Help me. Please help me. I willed for it to appear. But as the hours passed, I knew I had to accept that even it could not save me.
And then there it was.
From within the trees, there were two yellow eyes. I stared into them. Not wolf eyes at all. They were the curved eyes of a bird and as the creature stepped forward out of the tree line I could see the curved beak and circular face of an owl. Beneath its bird-like neck was the body of a large wolf, its white fur actually large feathers. I sat paralyzed, unable to move. Then the creature turned and began to walk once more into the forest. This is it, I realized, my last chance.
I burst from the bed, body aching with each step as I flung my door open and ran down the stairs. I didn’t pause to change or even to grab shoes, and the cold hit me like a shock when I stepped out the front door. My nightdress offered little protection and my feet burned with each step. I couldn’t stop. I ran out, dashing to the tree line where I had seen the creature in desperation. Please. Please. I could just see a glimpse of its white feathers within the trees and I rushed into the woods to follow it.
The further I ran, the darker it became like the forest had swallowed me whole and hidden me from the moon. I pushed on, never pausing to think and went deeper and deeper into the darkness. I could barely see so I moved forward blindly. I tripped and stumbled, certain that I could see glimpses of the creature just ahead of me. If I stopped, I was sure I would never see it again. I tried to shout, to call for it to stop, but my throat burned and no sound came out.
My foot hit the edge of a tree and before I knew it, the world was sliding sideways. I crashed hard into the snow, arms awkwardly in front of my body. I lay there, panting, unable to get up and aching with old pain and the new sting of the cold. Whatever strength had driven me into the forest was lost and my body felt empty. Trembling, I stared forward, eyes locked on the darkness before me.
Panic hovered on the outskirts of my consciousness but I felt too exhausted to let it in. That was my last chance. What hope did I have now? How could I possibly recover from my illness now? Perhaps, I had not been sent away to be saved but to die. The creature had appeared not as a miracle but as an omen of death. How delusional I had been. I felt tears sliding sideways down my face.
Then, in the nothingness, there was a sound. The sudden crush of snow and steps before me. It was too dark and I couldn’t see anything. My chest began to pound, the sound loud within the quiet. Suddenly a white light broke through the dark and I could see a paw in front of my face as it landed upon the snow. My eyes traveled up its strange body. And then I stopped, unable to look away from the pointed beak and sharp eyes of the creature. It glowed like the moon amidst the dark.
“Save me. Please.” I begged, my voice barely above a whisper.
It stared down at me as if condemning me for my desperation. A voice, low and heavy as if from a giant, wrung out in my head.
Survive.
I stared at it in confusion, unable to fathom its words.
Survive the night and I will heal you.
The creature turned, moving slowly back towards where it had appeared.
I struggled to sit back up and reached towards it, shouting, “No, wait, please. Don’t leave me here!”
But, it was too late. The creature had gone and I was once more submerged in the cold dark.
I slowly sat all the way up and dragged my legs in front of me, resting against the base of a tree. My whole body shook. The air around me was still as if I were the only thing alive. The cold surrounded me and suffocated me. I breathed out onto my cold hands, curling into myself in the desperate attempt to get warm. The creature’s words echoed in my head. It would heal me. It would heal me. I just have to survive. More tears fell down my face. I didn’t even know where I was; it was too dark for me to see the trees in front of me let alone make my way home. It wanted me to survive the night, the cold.
I gripped my shoulders with my hands. Survive. I doubted I could survive the night if I did not find a way to get warm. It was still early in the night and it would only get colder. I had run for a long time and lay on the cold ground even longer; I had no idea how far I was from the cottage or even what direction it was in. My mind raced as I tried to think of a solution, of any path beyond the one which lurked in the back of my mind, but nothing appeared.
The idea grew until I was unable to ignore it. I had no way to get home, no way to get warm but I could survive if I became colder, if I became like ice myself, the way the people of the north had. My heart pounded. What would I become if I couldn’t find my way back? Could I even do it?
I was losing time, my head already felt hazy and feverish. I had to decide, to make a choice. This is it. My only hope for a cure. My only chance for survival.
I let my head fall back against the trunk of the tree and closed my eyes. I took in a ragged breath, the cold cutting into my throat. I pictured the snow falling through the air and the new world I had learned to see. When I opened them, through the darkness of the night, I could glimpse the swirling energy of the trees and snow on the ground. My hands glowed blue before me.
I closed my eyes again, one frigid hand reaching out and grabbing the snow beside me. I couldn’t really feel it, my hands were already too numb. In the quiet, all I could hear was my own breaths. No, I thought, I have to let go. I have to leave my body behind. This body which had failed me. I didn’t need it. I could become something more. I could become the snow beneath my feet, the ice in the trees. I reached out with my hand again, touching the soft snow and, opening my eyes, saw the spiraling white of the snow began to merge and travel up my arm.
Further and further it traveled through me and I felt my pain fall away. My lungs and ribs didn’t hurt, my feet weren’t red and numb; I did not have a body which could feel those things. I allowed myself to relax and, unthinkingly, let go. I became the snow which coated the ground, extending past the house and across the entire forest, and the flurry falling from far above that was just beginning to reach the tops of the trees. Even as I sat still, the world became one of movement. I could feel the steps of animals moving their way through the forest and birds as they passed through the frigid and icy air.
I don’t know how long I sat there. What I did or looked like, unmoving against the tree and frozen stiff. My body abandoned as my mind and soul raced forward. My memories are difficult to explain and harder still to comprehend. How could one explain becoming something else, something beyond human? I can only guess that I stayed there a long time, perhaps that I would have stayed there forever, if I had not been interrupted by the return of the creature.
This time I felt it coming; I couldn’t see it through the gloom but I could feel its steps through the ice. As always, its yellow eyes appeared from the darkness first. Once more I heard its voice echo, though this time it extended through the forest across the icy air.
You have done well. But, now you must return. Find your soul again, little human, and I will return you home.
I couldn’t understand it. My thoughts were fleeting, barely real, as if they too had become like the snow in the air. My soul? When I looked down, I could barely see the outline of a hand. It was fading away, disappearing within the flowing energy of the ice. I stared at it in confusion; I knew it was mine somehow but I struggled to understand how. But the dreamlike trance had been broken. I knew something was wrong now. I was missing something, losing something without even realizing it.
Yellow eyes watched me without emotion. I felt a great wrenching within myself like I was being pulled, the energy within me dragged in one direction. What was happening? My hand became clearer. I bent over in pain as the clawing continued. My world had doubled. I could feel human feet in the snow and my feet against the ground. Warm breaths in the icy air and my own desperate attempts to breathe.
I could see it now. Lucia. She was here, somewhere, trapped inside. My hands grasped at my chest. Come back, I begged. Come back and end this pain. I could still feel the pulling from within and I closed my eyes, trembling as I found the source of the pulling. I pushed it forward with all my might. It was her. Lucia.
My body slowly came back to me, my freezing feet, trembling hands, aching ribs, and numb face. I was exhausted and wrapped my arms back around myself. I was back. I had done it. The owl eyes remained on me as the creature came closer before it lowered its body before me. I reached out, wrapping my hands around its neck and dragging my body onto its back. I buried my head in its neck and clung to it as it ran through the forest. It was just a little past dawn and the sun was low in the sky. I felt exhaustion pulling at me and I longed to return to the warmth and comfort of my bed. I wondered if my grandmother had awoken and hoped that she was still sleeping and not worried about me.
Finally, the creature came to a halt, once more lowering itself so that I could slide off its back. I stood before it, staring into its eyes. It leaned forward, tapping its head against mine before its voice echoed in my head.
For now you are healed, but the sickness will come back. Your soul is weary, laden with illness and doubts. Only once you have allowed your body to heal and forgiven its failings, will you be able to fully recover.
My heart sank but I nodded, “Thank you. Will you return to the north now?”
Yes. I am sure we will meet again. Best of luck protecting your soul, little human.
I watched as the creature turned, and walked back into the forest, disappearing behind the trees, then carefully opened the front door and slipped upstairs back to my room, immediately falling into bed and into a deep, long sleep.
The next morning, I described what happened that night to my grandmother who stared at me with concern. I struggled to explain my actions, my experience in the woods, and the final conversation with the creature but she waited for me with patience and attention. Finally, I choked out what the creature had warned me. I was healed but not forever. The sickness would come back and only I could truly heal myself of it. She smiled at me, knowingly, unphased by the panic which had begun to enter my voice.
“Lucia, I’m so proud of you.” She spoke calmly. “You found your soul again from the ice. Together we will save the rest of your soul too.”
“The creature helped me…I don’t know if I could do that again on my own.” I looked down at my lap. “I’m not strong enough.”
“Darling, you saved yourself. And you will do it again.” She reached out and held both my hands in hers. “Your body has failed you for a long time, but never your mind. Do not doubt the strength of your will.”
I looked at her hands, so small and frail but strong around mine. I gave her a small smile. “I guess I’ll be staying with you longer than we thought.”
My grandmother smiled brightly back. “I suppose you will, dear.”
That afternoon I wrote to my mother to tell her the news. As always, I said nothing of magic. Instead I simply wrote, I’m going to be staying with grandmother much longer than we planned, mother. But please don’t worry. I’m going to become well again. I promise.