The Truth-Teller Of Estrella

Chapter 9. The Soucouyant in the Woods

Aleta's head flooded with her own thoughts, wild and unclear. They left me. I can't go back. Why did they leave? I can't get to the library without them. But don't they need me?

She paused, noting the book Samir had held close in his arms, just hours ago, laying on the floor. She reached down, picked up the pages bound in leather and dusted off the soot from the stifled fire. There was something about the pages that called to her. And although it hummed at her touch, like a harp calling to be strung, Aleta was not interested. There was much more on her mind. Something was wrong, something had to be wrong.

"Orius!" She screamed at the top of her lungs. "Samir!"

But there was no response, only an emptiness that echoed from the darkness beyond. She felt herself shrink.

Aleta reached for her dark hair. She scoffed, a stifled laugh at herself as she tied her strands up. Surely she did not believe this was necessary? As a child she had heard old tales — the folks of the city always whispered that if you ever found yourself trapped in the woods you must tie your hair back and sweep it away from your face. If you failed to do so, it was an invitation — an opening for the spirits of the woods to latch and follow you about. And although she did not believe in such stories, Aleta was not ready to take her chances, especially not now. She stiffened in the dark, the woods looming like silent giants ahead.

Aleta threw her pack over Dani, shoved the book into her satchel, and kicked off without direction.

"Orius!" She yelled into the darkness, focused beyond the wall.

Dani took flight over the stones before Aleta could give it much thought.

It was like smashing through a curtain or piercing through a veil. The light was blinding — specks of dust in the sky that shun as far as the eye could see. It couldn't be? Aleta wondered, her chin tilted upward and her mouth gaping.

Aleta was four years old when she first went to the temple. Her mother had spent weeks fussing over her dress, making sure it had the perfect twinkle of silver.

"A dress of stars for Estrella's holiest of nights." Panthea had said to her child on their last holy day together.

Aleta learned of the god Niebo that night — of how he had been made from the stars themselves. She learned of Niebo's gifts, of his ability to conjure light. It was impossible to forget the sermon and the way Aleta wiggled and itched in the irritating fabric. She would never forget the stories about the stars. But this — the sight of them, across the wall all along, left her shaking with joy, anger, and... fear. She froze, allowing her eyes to graze them, to note and distinguish the brighter specs from the others. It left her breathless. It was magic personified. The stories did them no justice. And for a moment the world paused for her to watch them — or for them to watch her. But what was a lonesome woman in a sea of giants to the birther of gods? What was she, but a smudge to the bright eyes above? She watched as they gleamed, as if listening... as if answering.

The sound of a snapped twig brought Aleta's attention back down to the woods. She wiped the tears that had spilled down her face with the end of her shirt and focused back down — not above but ahead.

Don't chase after Karisa's voice. She reminded herself as she nudged Dani forward.

"If this is supposed to be some kind of joke, it isn't funny!" She screamed into the void, her voice quivering.

It was then that Aleta caught a glimpse of a fire deep within the trees, a ball that seemingly hovered, levitating into thin air.

Aleta dismounted from Dani, her eyes focused on the fire ball as she walked towards it. It burned bright and sacred-like. Its embers were slow and undoubtedly magic. Aleta leaped, hiding from tree to tree, mesmerized by the fire-ball's movements. She watched as it stopped at a clearing. It hovered near an entrance to a small abandoned cottage.