The next day, Mikhael is nowhere to be seen. I find myself sitting alone at the giant table, savoring a breakfast spread of nuts, berries, and fruits, all handpicked from the bountiful gardens of their Deity. The Spirits here seem to prefer offerings directly from nature. Nothing fried or boiled, except for the tea water.
The rules of consuming things in this and many other Spirit realms are straightforward: only partake in what is freely given. Anything that is not explicitly given or taken without permission could bind one to the realm or worse, to a creature within it. The servants who bring my breakfast are cautious and meticulous, emphasizing that everything on the table is a gift. As they pour my tea, they encourage me to relish their humble generosity. As I thank them, after they place no less than fifteen small plates and bowls with delicious offerings on the table, they disappear. Mikhael's absence feels like a splinter stuck in my foot, a sense of unease lingering beneath my chest.
As the day progresses and Mikhael is still missing, or avoiding me perhaps, I decide to walk around and explore the beautiful town.
Exiting Willow House, I marvel once more at the stacked wooden houses and the air that seems to flow with joyous laughter and harmony. If this realm is in such dire condition as Ai spoke of, it does not show here. This place of liveliness and serenity, calm and peace. I envy them as I stride along the roads looking at the inhabitants, young spirits of plants and seeds that run across the wooden bridges. To me, this does not seem like a place of decay. But not all is what it seems especially not in the realms of the Spirits.
I walk with the smells of delicious food, the preparations before the festival, and the inhabitants of this realm creating lanterns and decorations for their town, for their houses. It reminds me, somehow, of the Autumn Equinox I experienced in the human realm. A tug at the heart as I remember Verity, how I long for her.
As I stroll along the vibrant roads, a small wooden ball rolls up to my feet. I grab it and look around to see whom it might belong to—a group of young spirits catches my eye. Each one of them possesses endearing, childlike features that mirror their plant origins. They watch me carefully as I roll the ball over to them. The tallest of them takes a few steps forward and picks up the ball, then he smiles at me. "Thank you, strange human creature," he says, and I can't help but laugh. As they walk back into the alley, one of the smaller ones runs up to me and grabs my hand, asking me to join their game. I spend the next two hours playing and laughing with small plant spirits, the one who came up and grabbed me, having the head of a tomato, a small twig at the tip of her head.
"Why are you here?" one of them asks, his ears like cauliflowers, as we get ready to say goodbye. "My family says humans in the spirit realms mean trouble for us." They look unsure, scared almost.
"I am here to protect you," I try to reassure them. "Your great Deity of Spring and Dew has asked me and my friend to help keep you all safe before the winter slumber."
"Why do we need to be safe?" they ask. I sigh. Of course, they do not know of the troubles that are stirring.
"She is just extra careful of you. She said that the small vegetable Spirits of this year are the prettiest she has ever seen."
"So – you are like our guardian?" Tomato head asks. I nod.
"That's right! I am a guardian of Dreams." (Although I don't know Spirits have dreams) "So that when you all wake up next spring, you will only be filled with joy and happiness."
The kids watch me with big eyes.
"Then, is that other human your friend?" the tall one asks, pointing over my shoulder. I turn and see Mikhael standing across the road, looking into the alley. We lock eyes for just a moment, but it feels like his eyes are caressing me. Welcoming me. I look back at the children and once again I nod. "He is also a guardian of Sleep. He has guarded me many times," I say and smile. "He is also half spirit, so you know you can trust him."
The demeanor of the small spirits shifts at what I say. The tall one looks at Mikhael, appearing uneasy as he turns and ushers the others away. Only Tomato-head turns back and waves, a gleeful smile on her red cheeks. I wave back.
--
"Where were you this morning?" I ask, my voice tinged with frustration.
"I was with Ai," Mikhael responds, his voice devoid of emotion. "We prepared some things for tomorrow when we are supposed to be guardians." I nod, though internally I wonder if I should've been part of that meeting.
"I thought you might need the rest," he adds.
We walk through the bustling streets and alleys of town before Mikhael stops in front of a small restaurant, cramped in between two much taller buildings. There is a small sign over the entrance door in ancient runes that I cannot read, but Mikhael seems to know them. He turns to me and asks if I want a drink.
I pour his cup with wine before I pour my own, a custom I was told, in the Spirit realm. Always pour for the eldest. Seeing as he is more than twice my age, I think it is only appropriate. But I do not lift my cup to my lips, as Mikhael nods quickly to me and then downs the liquor.
"You're not drinking?"
"I don't know if I can. I can't tell the rules when it comes to purchases and being at an establishment like this." He smiles and downs the contents from my cup before he sets it down again and pours it for me.
"Here," he says quietly. "Please accept my gift of this fine Spirit liquor." I smile and thank him before I down the entire thing and feel the very strong burn of alcohol travel down the entirety of my body. I make a face and cough. It's not like anything I've ever had before. Mikhael pours me another cup and then fills his own and we cheer but neither of us drinks. He looks around the small restaurant as if it is familiar to him and yet different.
"I thought you didn't drink," I say to alleviate the tension of our silence.
"Here I do," he answers.
Besides us, there are few other patrons of this place. A couple of human-looking spirits play a game of chess while arguing. Some other more… creature-like characters sit alone drinking and eating. I don't know what I expected the spirits to look like, but the difference in appearance is exciting and terrifying.
"I know so much less about the world than I thought. There are gaps I had not thought of before. Spirits and Deities live lives, so eerily similar to humans."
"They both do and don't. Some spirits might be reincarnations of humans, remembering mannerisms and emotions, others are older, ancient even, and barely anything like the living," Mikhael answers even though I did not ask.
I look at the cup of liquor and take a small sip, it burns my mouth and throat. I cough again.
"So… what did you discuss, with Ai I mean," I say, as causal as I can.
With Ai, I repeated to myself. Images of them – together – flash through my mind. I did not know if I felt jealousy or envy or… I cut myself off before I could think of anything else.
"The plan for tomorrow, as I said before."
"What is the threat then, for her to ask your help, I mean… our help?"
"It didn't quite become clear, other than some Nether-demons have been prying at the barriers of her realm, not making a move but… watching. She feels it best if someone who is not to slumber would guard them for the ritual."
"And then for the rest of winter? Won't they be just as fragile then?" Mikhael shakes his head.
"No, not really. The barrier is guarded then, by the winter spirits, who wake when Ai and hers fall asleep, and the Winter Deity, Cesi, who is much stronger than Ai. Her powers not bound to the lives of flowers and plants."
"Like the flow of seasons," I say and drink what's left in my cup. "How long have you known Ai?"
"Many years, perhaps even a century…" he says. Speaking just like one who has lived a long life. My fingers brush against his arm on the table, I want to hold him, comfort him. Being here seems to have saddened him.
"Do you think… we're safe? With Ai, I mean. At the house…" He shakes his head and turns to look at me for the first time since he poured my drink. His expression is worried, as I have come to recognize is very much his resting face.
"We're not safe until that Book," he looks over my shoulder and sees I have been carrying my knapsack with me, "is no longer bound to you." I raise my brow.
"You trust her?"
"I would never trust a Spirit. Not even one I've known for a long time."
"Not even your father?"
He does not answer the last question, but I can tell that he means his father as well. I want to ask if his father is still alive, but I don't. As he pours the last of the liquor into our cups, a thousand questions run through my mind, although I do not want to ask him any of them. I drink in silence with him, and we leave the small restaurant soon after that.
--
We walk toward the house in the golden afternoon light, the air illuminated by specks of gold that shimmers with the pulsating sunlight. I feel a sudden tug and look around me. There stands an elderly woman in a doorway of a small house just across the road, her gaze fixed on me with an eerie sensation. The pull intensifies, drawing me towards her. Mikhael stops beside me, lifting a brow at my sudden immovability.
"What is that place?"
"I think it's a shaman."
"Do spirits really need shamanistic guiding?" The skepticism in my voice is too evident, and yet, I can't take my eyes off the woman. She steps out of the doorframe and nods to me, telling me to go to her.
"Spirits are living things after all. I don't see why they wouldn't need some guidance same as any of us."
We walk towards the woman, and I can't help but feel a light shock that Mikhael is even entertaining the thought of going to her, but he follows my lead. As we approach, a sense of anticipation hums in the air. The woman's smile is warm, her eyes a pale brown that belies her age, reflecting the light in her small sanctuary. The room is decorated with dried herbs and flowers, written talismans, and scrolls – the ambiance familiar, reminding me of Verity's small office. A sense of comfort washes over me as I look behind the desk to where the clear grey smoke of several burning incense wafts in the air, wrapping around us. At the right of me, a small furnace is burning softly, its coals red and grey.
The woman sits down behind the desk, nodding to us to sit on the mat in front of her, we heed her and sit down. The smell of the incense brushing against my very core.
"My name is Dan. I am a human shaman," her gaze shifting between Mikhael and myself, before looking towards something behind her. The emphasis on 'human' is intentional, an attempt to reassure us. It makes questions pile in my mind. Dan reaches behind the desk and picks up a deck of cards. I've seen these kinds of cards before, charlatans in the Pits usually used them to lure youths of their spare pocket change.
"I am no charlatan," Dan says in a soft voice and shuffles the deck without as much as looking at me.
"How…" I start but she shakes her head.
"I've resided in the Spirit realms for centuries. During my time, I have acquired a few tricks from the Spirits. Both from here and in other places." Mikhael shifts and rolls his shoulders, as if he thinks it uncomfortable to sit on the floor. He does not seem surprised.
"We've met before," Mikhael says quietly. Dan nods.
"I am pleased you remember."
"Why have you summoned us here, Dan?" he asks, and my eye dart from him to her. Dan finishes shuffling the deck and places it on the desk, reaching for a small satchel – a soft red velvet fabric filled with what I presume is bones for divination.
"You seem to be questioning a lot of things, young one."
"Sorry. I've been told my thoughts are loud," I say. Mikhael scoffs and I turn my head to glare at him.
"I can feel you have many other questions too. 'Why is this happening?', 'Will I survive?', 'What if I just give up?' These are all fair questions to harbor when one is stuck with a fate that engulfs your very essence."
Engulfs me? The Book of Death, this constant companion, comes to mind. Its presence igniting a maelstrom of thoughts within me. I risk it and pick up the Book from my knapsack and show it to Dan. I do not turn to face Mikhael, his glare burning at my side reveals what he thinks of this.
"Consuming' is the word that comes to mind," Dan continues, her words echoing around us. "As you died… your soul shattered and some of it found its way into the Book you carry."
Wait? I died? My mind stumbles over the revelation, if I wasn't already sitting down, I might have fallen over. Ice grows in the depths of my stomach and shoots out in my veins.
"You did not tell her?" I feel – I think for a second that I feel nothing, the impact of the truth slams into me, leaving me stunned. I feel shadows creep in around me, narrowing my vision. I died? The concept feels so foreign, discordant with the heartbeat thrumming beneath my skin. My very being chafing against its own existence, everything inside of me feels out of place. I think of breaking bones - trying to calm myself down.
Dan's voice cuts through the cold shadows. "Apologies, I thought you knew. The Book only binds to those who have traversed between worlds." I am left dumbstruck, staring at her, then at Mikhael. A torrent of emotions surging within me. Mikhael is a fucking liar.
My hand instinctively reaches for the knife in my belt as a pure and unsteady rage pulsates through me. The cool metal of my knife grounds me, offering a small sense of control amid the chaos in my mind. But I can't move, my hand holds the blade, poised, yet trapped in place. I strain against the unseen force to no avail.
"I cannot permit bloodshed in my sacred space," Dan's voice resonates, her words stern. What you decide to do after our meeting is up to you..."
"Tell. Him. To. Leave." I spit out, my words edged with venom. "I do not want him here."
Mikhael, ever the silent ass, rises to his feet and walks out of the room without as much as looking at me. As the door closes behind him, a semblance of calm returns, the room's tension easing, though warm blood now stains my hand, a silent testament to my impotent rage.
"I will not speak on his actions," Dan says, her expression neutral. Then, as if nothing of this just happened, she holds up the satchel towards me and urges me to pull out three of the bones in it. Eagerness to move along propels me to comply. Wanting to move along so I can go out and… what? Kill him? For lying? I shake my head and reach for the bones in the satchel.
As I place the chosen bones on the desk, Dan's exclamation resonates through the room, the tone neither positive nor negative. I would assume it's negative, counting my luck with these things.
"The Book holds ancient magic, born of love but tainted by hate. She is weeping in her garden The Book embodies what remains of them, a symbol of love turned to ash." The meaning behind her words eludes me.
"Your fate is more intricate than I first perceived," Dan says, her smile revealing a depth of understanding I can't fathom. "However, it is not for me to disclose." She gathers the chosen bones and hurls them into the glowing coals of the furnace. A cacophony of sounds emerges from the coals and bones, as they crack and rumble in the heat. Vibrating. Smoke billows forth, thick and suffocating, forming an eerie tableau – it's the demon. His face created in smoke suddenly shifts into a woman. I recognize her and yet, it's the face of a stranger, my face – eerily unfamiliar. The smoke shifts again and I see fire and death. Spreading throughout the room, filling every corner of my vision.
There is only darkness and suddenly – I am watching myself run in a forest, ever-changing. A howl cuts through the silence, I am running from the Hounds.