Yet again, Lilau moved through the cover of night. The shadow that was Makotae formed and dispersed as he checked the way ahead. He weaved in and out of the trees, their sparsely leaved branches stretching towards the myriad of pinpricks in the clear sky.

Although the icy breath of the coming winter sharpened in the dark, she still preferred this time. She felt too exposed, too vulnerable and outnumbered during the day. While the people slept, she could act with no fear of lingering gazes or judgment.

She followed Makotae’s form, breaking free of the tangle of trees into a large, round clearing. The repeated assembling and disassembling of ritual altars had rubbed the center bare. She had been here so many times it felt like coming home. Despite her many times of assisting with rituals, however, this was her first time performing one.

Being the Elders’ ward, she was a part of everything they did and taught what she need to survive. However, as an Unmarked, she could never succeed them. Not that she wanted to. Not being a potential successor also meant she shouldn’t perform rituals, a rule she had always upheld. Tonight she would break it.

Lilau went to work. She pulled supplies from Makotae’s saddlebags and placed them around the ritual circle. Looking to the moon, she oriented toward the north, placing a clump of Nerve Root, for the mind, at what was the start of the outer circle. Then, the dried flowers of Sight’s Essence, for seeing the past. So on she went, for every major and minor direction, eight in all. After came the Spirit Dust, bone dust that was sanctified in a place of power. With it, she traced an intricate spider web pattern that spoke of the heart of the forest. To its Guardian.

With her last handful, she drew a small circle around herself at the center of it all before kneeling down. Most rituals involved calling the Fokla to speak with those assembled. Some, like the one she was performing, channeled the Fokla’s power directly into the ritualist.

Such rituals were dangerous. The unfettered power of the Fokla was not something meant for humans. She would take the chance.

Zan’s words still echoed in her head. What if she was a curse? Because of her, Zan was dead. Her presence had eroded the village’s respect in the Elders and, according to Mara, the Fokla had been acting strange of late. Regardless of what the Fokla said when she was a baby, she had still been abandoned. Why? And why had she heard nothing from the Fokla? What if the scouts had lied? These questions were the ones she would answer tonight.

Makotae paced around the outer ring, concern flowing. Yet underneath the worry was understanding. This was something she needed to do, and he would not interfere.

With a last look into his glowing amber eyes, she closed her own and chanted.

Age and pain,

distance where the past lay,

timeless power in endless sea,

bring my memory back to me.

The cadence started slow and unsure, picking up speed as she fell into the rhythm. Time ceased to have meaning, her every sense dulling to a pinprick. Only the sounds mattered as they reached out across the distance, seeking and searching.

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Vibrations came from all sides, bouncing against the message in query. Are you calling me? What do you need? Each bounced off, then circled, diving sounds full of curiosity spiraling through the air. A larger vibration came, its force pushing through the vortex. It hurtled back towards her like a falling star, pulling the rest of the vortex in its tail.

It collided with her. The momentum pulled her senses into sharp focus. Her eyes snapped open as the forest came alive.

Everything glowed. Pale gray-blue pulsed deep within each tree trunk, a heart that spoke of life beyond its dead exterior. Spots of bright blue speckled the trees’ bases and the surrounding ground, misty violet covering it in turn. Her webbed ritual circle shone brightest of all. Each bone dust thread turned a thick blood-red, which streamed into each of the eight nodes and flowed toward her. It crashed into an invisible wall that surrounded her, spewing up in a continual fountain that came up to her chest.

Her pulse quickened. She took in the spectacle, equal parts awe and fear competing in her mind. She scrambled to find a memory that would tell her what was going on. Was this normal? The Elders had never spoken of such visions, but would they to her?

Lilau flinched as a sound like a great tree splitting in two exploded through the air. More sounds followed in its wake, familiar yet ethereal. Songs of every bird she had ever known, and some she didn’t, echoed. Animals snapped, chittered, howled and snorted. Her resolve wavered as she cast her eyes around, seeking motion within the brilliant cacophony. Only a single form paced over the violet earth, its surface alight with golden stars.

The air shifted again as the animal voices merged into the sound of movement. Wings, paws, claws, and hooves rushed toward her without physical form. It was too much. She shoved herself back, moving to escape the invisible onslaught. The night snapped back into normalcy. The waxing half-moon was the only thing casting a glow, the anxious whimpering of Makotae the only sound.

Her chest felt tight, her thoughts reeling as the awe she felt solidified into pure fear. The Fokla had attacked her because she was broken. That had to be why they assaulted her like they did. What if they were still around? She pushed herself up to her feet, a fervent glance proving that still nothing but them moved. Didn’t mean they were alone, though.

Makotae pushed into her growing panic, strong and sure. I will protect you.

His presence helped some, but even after she had scattered the herbs and bone dust into the forest, her breath came in ragged gasps. She was wrong to have tried the ritual. She was defective. Now who knew what retribution the Fokla had in store for her arrogance.

Lilau fled back to the long hut, determined to scour away any sign of what she had done on the next sunrise. And she did. By the end of the next day, she had replaced everything she had taken and somehow Mara hadn’t noticed. Her growing age, Lilau had surmised.

Not being caught by Mara was a relief, yet the weight of what could happen pushed down on her. Every day she went through her increasingly solitary routines, and every day she waited for a punishment that did not come. Finally, over the course of the seasons, the fear faded, but the lesson remained. She was a defect, and she vowed to never call upon the Fokla again.

*****

Two full cycles after her failed attempt at questioning the Fokla, Lilau faced something even worse.

Despite her protests to the contrary, Mara had felt deeply about Raval. Her health failed after his death. As her faculties waned, the village turned to their successors, leaving Lilau to care for her alone while they awaited the inevitable vacancy of the long hut.

Lilau thought she had grown accustomed to isolation. Yet as she looked down upon the husk that nestled under a dearth of furs and her last human connection, she felt her heart seize. She had watched and cried throughout the night while Mara’s body gave up its last strength. She had held Mara’s hand as her last breath escaped. Her essence had returned to the land, her suffering ended, so why did she feel like Mara took a piece of her, too? Why did it feel so wrong?

A large, fuzzy muzzle nestled itself under her chin. Makotae had stayed with her the entire night, mourning and comforting. He didn’t have the same depth of connection with Mara as she did, but he had enough of one with her to feel the full force of the loss. She turned to bury her face in his coat with fresh tears streaming down her face.