The deans had to make a decision. The snow had completely melted. Around Séaroën, the séarach were covered with large deep green leaves veined with white. Their branches bent under the heavy mass of fats buds oozing with sap. The shoots had provided some hearty meals for the hungry children after their long days spent training.
The youngsters would now walk around with their jackets open, their hands exposed to the mild air, and some would remove their hats when the sun was shining too brightly. The children's bodies gained in height and muscle and their faces had matured. They no longer had the emaciated look of the end of the Hir.
The séalyar knew they could no longer afford to wait. Færn was not yet fully recovered but he could follow the group for most activities. One morning, the children saw Séabanh join them by the fire as they ate a porridge of buds, fresh herbs and mushrooms. She was accompanied by Maoïr and Roséan, who held, as usual, his spear in his wide and thick hands.
The dean had the children sitting around her. She had taken her time to talk to them about the importance of keeping their customs alive. She had made them understand that Lorgá's generosity would give them the strength, when the time came, to meet again at the end of the stroïgil and perpetuate their traditions.
In saying this, she had cast a brief look at Færn. The little boy had blushed, but he hasn't looked down. Taghna had laid her hand on his shoulder to make him feel her support. She thought that the séalyar would escape the question of the ceremony of passage to adulthood, but Séabanh added bluntly:
- After accepting Lorgá's donations, you will have to go alone and bring a catch. You will not be able to help each other, but the choice of your prey is up to you. You now know the strengths and weaknesses of the animals that inhabit our forests. You will have to come back before the séarach bloom.
Taghna took a quick look at the guardian trees in their village. She could see the buds ready to hatch. Time was precious, she understood why the séalyar had decided to finally act. Séabanh ended her words with a sentence full of meaning:
- Fail and Séaroën's fate will be all the more precarious...
Whispers of fear rose from the small assembly. How could the children imagine that they could suddenly be able to hunt? They had only one word in mind: durséar. It usually applied to the adults, when they were no longer able to assist with Séaroën's survival. The causes were numerous: old age, a weakened body or the impossibility to give birth. This meant they had become durséar and they accepted their new state.
Children, too, weren't exempt from this fate. Should they fail during their stroïgil – that is, should they not come back with a prey – they also had to leave, voluntarily and alone. Although this occurrence was rather rare, it wasn't unheard of. The exiled souls, determined not to be a burden to the community, often left quietly at nightfall or decided never to return from a gathering session.
Like a tree that loses its leaves before the Hir to keep its strength, Séaroën had to separate from the most fragile elements in order not to endanger the entire villagers. Far from being a source of shame, becoming a durséar was a personal decision that no one talked about, thus the fear that emanated from it for the children. But it happened, as naturally as the seasons followed one another over the days.
Taghna suddenly realized that Dorséanan's acceptance into the séalyar was a clear sign that this would be the last season for old Dannaï. Again, no one had talked about it, but she was sure of what would happen. When the first snows returned, Dannaï would help seal the village houses and go rejoin Lorgá.
The girl felt her heart tighten.
- Tomorrow, we will begin the ceremony of transition to adulthood. We will leave as soon as possible. Don't get too tired today, added the dean.
Roséan helped her to get up and the two adults left the children in the grip of intense anxiety. Fortunately, they were able to calm down by asking Maoïr questions. The latter said some comforting words. He said that things would go well, that they had to trust their skills and especially Lorgá.
Very quickly, however, the young people understood that Maoïr could not give them more substance than mere reassuring words and their questions dried up. Their master, the one who had taught them everything about plants, who had followed them for long days to share his knowledge, soon left.
Taghna took Færn aside and asked him to follow her. She didn't want to stay around the village walking in circles. She preferred wandering through the forest and spending her energy waiting for nightfall. The two friends moved away from the group, running through nature, which gradually took on a more dangerous, oppressive look in the eyes of the children. They realized how much their environment would influence their destiny.
Taghna eventually stopped and looked Færn straight in the eyes. She wanted to share her feelings with him but, as usual, she didn't know where to start, what words to use to express her confusion. It was Færn who broke the silence:
- Don't worry about it. We're going to make it.
His voice betrayed a great fear, however, and the words sounded weak, empty of their meaning. Taghna saw that the frail boy was trying to convince himself that the course of life was going as planned, that his arm would not be a problem, that he would not become a durséar because of such a stupid accident.
She wanted to start crying again but refused to give in to her emotion. She took Færn in her arms and hugged him hard, as much not to fall herself as to support him, her closest friend, the one who had been following her for so long wherever her desire had led her.
- Færn... We need to meet again. At all costs. We're going to help each other. I'll help you this time, she whispered, I promise.
She was shaking like a leaf. The boy didn't answer anything, but Taghna thought she felt a weak nod of his head. He tightened his grip. She had let her heart speak, but she felt in her flesh the important implications of her words. In the past, she had never paid much attention to the consequences of her actions, but it was more out of ignorance than disobedience. Today, she was aware of the extent of what she was saying.
Yet the sentence was sprout in her, taking its roots in her being and becoming increasingly powerful, absorbing past events to feed on them, grow and invade her entirely. She felt the foundations of Séaroën, these traditions so dear to the néach, being reduced to dust by this force that struck inside of her chest. Séabanh's sentences that explicitly prohibited mutual aid were buried under her love for Færn. She would never let her friend put himself in danger again. Never.
Færn finally moved slowly. His arm, caught in their embrace, was pulsing with pain. Taghna realized it.
- Sorry....
- It's okay, it's not that bad, he said, smiling.
Yet she saw in the boy's eyes that he was in the grip of an intense internal battle. The perpetuation of the memory of the elders was the most important thing for the village. Without it, how could Séaroën have survived for so many generations? He did not know whether to give in to Taghna's will or to stand firm on the convictions he had been taught since birth.
After a while, he decided not to think about it anymore. The stroïgil would arrive soon enough, and nobody knew what it would bring. He told Taghna that they had better find something to complete their lunch.
The rest of the day was quiet. Taghna couldn't concentrate. She was going over Séabanh's words as well as those she had spoken to Færn. Of course, she did not want to break the cycle that her guardians had followed since birth, but she knew that she would do everything in her power to ensure that her friend did not become a durséar.
The night fell surreptitiously.
The next day, it was still dark when the adults came to pick up the sleeping children. Together they headed for the mataïg. The séalyar came out in turn, adorned with their ceremonial attributes. The feverish atmosphere among the village members calmed down and became more solemn. The influence of the deans was undeniable. Taghna almost regretted not blindly following the rules set by people whose presence was so reassuring. It would've been so much easier.
Séabanh headed north, the rest of the village following in small groups. Very quickly, the forest thickened. Despite her countless explorations, Taghna didn't recognize the environment they were threading into. The trees were getting older and older, their bark more and more cracked. The ground was covered with dead leaves and thick, fragrant mosses and the darkness was total. Here and there, the torches of the adults tore the darkness with a yellow glow.
Taghna felt like she was walking in a dream. The lack of sleep made her feel light-headed. She would have bet that the dean was guiding them very precisely, as if her steps were following an invisible path known only to her that was twisting between two worlds.
Time was not running out. The air was still. No sound was audible.
They arrived to a clearing. The open space could have been similar to Séaroën if not for its small size and a gigantic old stump in its centre. The light of the dawn, just emerging, bathed the rest of the trunk and rotten roots in an opalescent halo. The stump stood out with even more contrast as the surroundings were plunged into darkness, with the giant séarach rising all around forming a green wall.
The procession entered the clearing and approached the stump. Taghna noticed that its center was filled with a silvery liquid that shimmered like the Moon. She felt inexorably attracted to it. Its color was hypnotic. She even doubted that the ambient light came from the sun and not from the heart of the strain.
She would have liked to get closer, but the village gathered at the edge of the clearing. Only the four séalyar continued on their way. They stopped near the dead tree and knelt around it. They would have had difficulty surrounding it with their arms touching. They kissed the damp soil, then the thick bark and remained prostrate while whispering an intoxicating litany.
Séabanh stood up first and made a gesture towards the adults. Séacas came out of the assembly, his arms loaded with a large piece of meat wrapped in séarach leaves. He carefully gave it to Rissar who unpacked it and placed it inside the stump. The dark red meat slowly sank into the liquid without making any ripple. Taghna realized then that the liquid inside the stump was the uisgaïr, Lorgá's sacred water that had given life to all the things living in this world.
Séabanh began the ceremony:
- O Lorgá, we ask you, as in every generation, to be generous. Give the flesh of our flesh the strength it will need to perpetuate our traditions and never forget your memory.
The children were dying of impatience and anguish. They didn't know if they wanted to finish the ceremony or go back to the village and fall asleep under the warm blankets. Séabanh did not give them time to dither.
- Caïséan, come closer, said the dean.
Caïséan was paralysed but she didn't want to disappoint her néach. She joined the dean as bravely as her legs were able to. Séabanh took off her clothes one by one: her hat, her big jacket, her mittens, her pants and finally her boots stained with dirt. Caïséan found herself completely naked. The hair on her pale skin rose because of the cold.
Rissar shared a few words with the girl who climbed on the edge of the stump. She had a moment's hesitation before jumping inside. She found herself buried up to her chest. Her thin shoulders barely exceeded liquid. Séabanh and Rissar laid their hands on her head and plunged her into the uisgaïr.
The children held their breath by reflex. The deans remained motionless. While the young people were exhaling one after the other, out of breath, Caïséan was still underwater. They were staring at the stump, panting. They were getting more and more anxious. Some would have liked to go and see what was going on, but they didn't dare to make a move.
All around, the adults were in a second state. They didn't seem concerned about the events and their faces looked like the ones they adopted when they went hunting.
Caïséan finally resurfaced. She didn't seem out of breath. The uisgaïr streamed down her hair and skin in tiny droplets that shone with a bluish glow. The girl was completely dry. When she opened her eyes, her gaze had changed. She was empty of any expression.
The children held back screams of amazement. They had trouble recognizing their friend, who paid no attention to them. Caïséan took a moment before turning around. She stepped over the stump on the other side from where she had entered and sank between the slow-pitch trees.
Taghna couldn't wait any longer. She would have liked to go there as soon as possible to be able to monitor the progress of Færn's ceremony. But then Séabanh called Færn. The deans repeated the same gestures as with Caïséan. The boy had trouble undressing. Rissar helped him to get into the old stump because one arm was not enough for him to do so.
Then it was Asgeül's turn. When she disappeared into the forest, Taghna thought she was going to go mad. Fortunately, Séabanh pronounced her name with authority. The girl hurried to join the four séalyar who undressed her. For the first time, she was completely naked and standing outside. She felt the slightest breeze of wind caressing her skin. She even had the impression that she could see and hear more easily because her senses were not hindered by the heavy cap.
She realized she was getting cold quickly and hurried to get into the stump. Taghna slipped her foot into the liquid. She thought it would be icy cold, like the water of the Tui, but the feeling was not so unpleasant. She felt as if she was wrapped in a texture of extreme softness. Under her feet, the ground was rough.
Before she dived, Séabanh told her:
- Taghna, accept Lorgá's donations and come back to us as one of Séaroën's woman. After sharing the uisgaïr, you will go into the forest without looking back.
Taghna nodded without paying attention to the séalyar's words. She was only looking forward to finding Færn. She wanted to immerse herself but Séabanh held her back and plunged her eyes into hers. Taghna was suddenly very scared. She was convinced that the séalyar had read her mind. However, Séabanh finally loosened her grip.
Rissar and Séabanh laid their hands on the top of Taghna's skull and gave her slight pressure. She barely had time to take a deep breath when her head went underwater. She stayed there for a while, waiting for the deans to give her some kind of sign that would indicate she could go up.
Nothing happened.
Taghna was starting to run out of air. She wanted to go up to breathe but as she moved, the pressure of both hands gripping her hair became stronger. Feeling the force holding her underwater, Taghna let an air bubble escape.
In a flash, all kinds of thoughts burst into her head. She was convinced that what the deans were doing to her was not normal. She didn't understand why she had to stay longer, now that she had come into contact with the uisgaïr. She even came to believe that the séalyar were taking revenge for the accident she had caused for Færn.
Overwhelmed by panic, she opened her eyes. She couldn't see a thing. She felt that she was reaching her limits. She began to fight with the energy of despair. She gesticulated with her whole body, kicked her head right and left and wanted to push on her legs as hard as she could, but she noticed that the ground had slipped away under her feet.
In a last start, she tried to scratch the hands that drowned her but they too had disappeared. Taghna screamed as she moved her arms and feet, which emptied her lungs of the last breath of air. Before she gave in to the reflex of breathing, she came to believe that the whole ceremony was just a bad dream, that the adults would come to wake her up any moment now.
She swallowed a large sip of liquid that she barely had time to feel invading her mouth, passing between her teeth and on her tongue to descend into her throat and flood her lungs. She lost consciousness as she descended endlessly down inside the bowels of the earth.