Page 22 of Triadic
A little girl, possibly about age seven, pointed right at me. Her costume was surprisingly thorough, with what looked like sea kelp woven into her hair and a blue-greenish hue rubbed onto her skin. Dark purple lips parted back in another hiss to reveal unreasonably sharp-looking teeth. Even her eyes looked unnatural, more like fish eyes than human ones. Her dress was made of scattered patches, roughly sewn, a makeshift outfit if I ever saw one. She had a satchel that hung over one shoulder and crossed her body to rest on the opposite hip.
"Can I help you?" I asked kindly, loving how thoroughly she was participating in the costumed parade.
"Komm," she urged, a beckoning webbed hand flicking at me. Both her pronunciation, hissed darkly in the back of her mouth, and the gesture struck me as forced.
"I'm going to go see what she wants," I told Fritz.
The old man raised his bushy white brows. "Who?"
"The little girl," I said, pointing to the counter.
He glanced that way, then looked at me, a bit suspicious. "Where?"
I smiled. "She's so tiny you can't see her over the counter."
Fritz grabbed my shoulder when I tried to step past him. "Leave her be."
"I'll just be a moment," I promised.
He hesitated a moment, gripping me hard before finally letting go. "Be careful."
What on earth could a little girl do to me? "Of course. I'll be right back."
The cute little sea nymph or river sprite—whatever she was going for—waited for me around the front and perked up when she saw me, her toothy smile both cute and a little bit sinister with those sharp teeth.
"What do you need?" I asked, leaning down to her level. "Can't you find your parents?"
"Komm," she rasped again and turned, making sure I was following her.
She led me into the crowd, who didn't seem to notice her.
We were nearly to the end of the market when I put a stop to her ruse. "I'll go no further—I need to get back to work. Do you know your way home now?"
Sheturned and fished in her bag, then pulled out a chain with beads on it that looked something like a rosary. She held it up to me, clearly expecting me to take it.
"You don't need to give me something. Isn't that yours?" I asked, but she only hissed and bounced the thing at me, so I held my hands out.
The moment the beaded chain touched my fingertips, the texture of the air changed, each particle imbued with a misty color and the chain shimmering with effervescence. Then the child wrapped the chain around my left wrist, and it locked to me as if it were meant to be there. I suddenly had the unsubstantiated knowledge that she was not a child lifting somethingupto me, but rather a much larger, disembodied being handing somethingdownto me, down the planes of existence. Indeed, there was no seam to show a little human girl was wearing webbed gloves for her costume. Those were her real hands; the touch of her skin was wet and cold.
I had been so extremely stupid.
"What is your name?" I asked, holding back my terror.
"Dunu," she hissed, not asking mine in return. She likely already knew it or didn't care.
It was no name I had ever heard. It didn't sound like the Helvetican Alpine German I knew. "Dunu,please help me go back to where you found me. Back to the market stall."
I did not dare take my eyes off her, lest she disappear and leave me stranded, having clearly stepped through some kind of magical veil. In my periphery, I could see that the passersby now took no notice of me either. As my rationalmind fought back a scream and tried to remain in control, my heart ached, knowing that I might have gotten myself trapped again, having never told Marit and Corbi how I truly feel.
Chapter Eleven: Corbi
The sanctuary was dark, and as everyone found their positions and no longer needed to see enough to be able to move around, the last shaded candle was blown out.
On the winter solstice, all the monks of Diana Monastery gathered in our large sanctuary, no matter which pantheon of gods they worshipped. Our ceremony was the same, and it thus united us. We stood together and for several long moments, we meditated on the topic of the longest night of the year, and the meaning of community and resilience through the harsh winter.
After meditating on the darkness, the ceremonial instructor would light a single candle, representing the return of the sun to light the world. That candle would be used to light those of the first ring of instructors, who would then turn around and light for the monks immediately behind them, and so it would reverberate out to fill the sanctuary. Thenwe'd have a meal together, before separating to perform ceremonies specific to our distinct pantheons and traditions.
I felt Marit next to me, his presence as familiar as my own. And, though he was so new to our lives, I'd spent so much time energetically healing Peter and massaging him that I could now sense him despite the fact that he was beyond the monastery's protective barrier at the moment, working at the Advent market with the older monk named Fritz. Peter's smile and affection came to him so easily whenever we were together, I should hardly be surprised that he had imprinted himself on me in many layered ways.