Ana Baptism day
Ana
Baptism day
The day had finally come.
The day when I would change from a peasant, human woman, to an ethereal being. The day I would relinquish fragility for strength.
I watched the entrance of the cave as the Goat Man’s horse sniffed at my wet hair. Its inky mane and its hooves were decorated with red tassels, the hair freshly brushed.
After my daily bath, Andrei presented me with two linen dresses. One of them had black embroidery on the sleeves, and on the edges of the dress a black and red girdle. The other one had the same pattern, but in gold.
I chose the gold one. My opinci were already worn out from all the walking I did in the last few days around the cave, but they were replaced with new ones in the blink of an eye.
I had not seen the Goat Man since our last agreement. He appeared in all my dreams. He left his room unattended, so that I could watch my family in his Mirror.
Seeing them brought me pain, and I hoped that after I completed my part of the contract, I would see them once more.
At least to say a proper goodbye.
I had doubts after speaking to him, as I did the other day. My cheeks hurt each time I tried to apologise, but my love and belief in God stopped me. He was the one who pushed my head to stand straighter.
Yet there was in me something small that kept creeping into my head. How smooth the Goat Man’s skin looked in the evening starlight, how his power was absorbing my every thought. As the story said, he dominated everything in his path.
And I had to stay strong not to fall into his trap.
My heart was hopeful that he would come with me to the old church.
Every passing day, I dared to check his room, only to find that he did not return from wherever he went. The moment he placed himself on his knees in front of me, he opened a different gate to my imagination.
One I did not know I had. One that could wreck my faith.
The feeling of his voice in my head, bringing many unholy thoughts to the surface, was against my better judgement. No woman, no matter how many sinful thoughts were stirred in her by a single touch, should think about a man who belittles her, who shames her for what she is.
And still, the Goat Man had moments when he was gentler. For some time, I started to think about him as a person. Not as a brute.
My knees fell to the ground; tears slipped down my cheeks. “Forgive me, God, for thinking about him as a man. It’s too dark in here, and I cannot see anything beyond it. Give me a sign that this will end soon. Give me a sign that my feelings will stay as they are.”
With this small prayer, I shoved my feelings and regained my clarity of mind.
“You are going to be late, Ana! You better hurry, time does not wait,” Andrei urged, floating to the Goat Man’s horse.
I sighed and thanked him, wiping the tears from my eyes.
“Don’t cry, it is not your wedding,” he whispered, his voice barely a sound.
I nodded. “You’re right. It is my funeral.”
And with that, I climbed on the horse, keeping my head high and hands on the reins. Even though the piece of leather trembled between my fingers, my heart was steady.
Galloping towards my signed fate.
In the forest, there was no wind to rustle the firs’ branches, no song of the birds could be heard, and no small creatures running around in the grass.
The sun was pleasant that day. It made room for the clouds in the sky, allowing them to cover it. From time to time, it allowed me to breathe in shadows.
That was what awaited me. Shadows, darkness, evil. Things I was unfamiliar with.
The horse’s head moved with each step it took. I placed my hand on its mane, touching it lightly. The strands were thicker than my hair, but as they were maintained by Andrei, they felt soft as petals.
The tassels attached to the stallion’s mane reminded me of the holiday called Horses Easter, where the villagers would gather in the centre of the hamlet, in front of the church and show off their horses. Each horse had intricate decorations, from shawls with embroidered flowers to tassels.
“Thank you for helping me,” I whispered in its mane.
It neighed, the sound bouncing off the branches.
As the horse strutted, the firs and pines watching over us, my skin got clammy. Thoughts of my family and the last time I saw them played through my mind.
Were they well? Did Angelica marry? Would she have a nice life? What about mum?
The shadows fell across the dirt pathway, giving the woods the same sensation as I had crawling on my skin.
Dread.
The sound of drums covered the horse’s neigh, drawing my attention to the top of the hill, where the old church was.
The Goat Man’s horse climbed the hill, its hooves ripping the grass. I felt its discomfort, and I chose to climb down.
“Thank you!” I said and placed my lips softly on its head. It showed the sharp fangs in response and retreated into the shadow of a tree. Waiting.
I swallowed and turned to a mass of horns and antlers watching me closely.
From deer to impala, from ram to their master, Elk, every one of them watched me. Their eyes were hidden behind hollow skulls, their scrutiny turning my stomach upside down.
I was alone in a sea of the unknown.
Each and every one of them wore black cloaks, their skulls shining in the sun. They moved in unison, raising their hooves, as their master walked towards me. All the members in the Order had their hooves behind their backs.
“Human Ana Lazarov, you have been selected by our ally, the Goat Man, to take its place as a Soul Ripper.” His gruff voice cracked into the air, making the grass move left and right, and the trees tremble. The drums continued with a faster rhythm as I stepped further.
The melodic notes of a panpipe joined. The mix between the instruments, harsh against soft, rang through the meadow. I searched for the sound, and there was a young girl, such as me, with tears in her eyes. Her lips blew air over the pipes, without even sparing me a glance.
I felt my face burning under the Order’s scrutiny. Whispers surrounded us, their ramble filling my ears.
“She’s a woman!”
“She is human!”
“She won’t make it.”
“Goat was a fool!”
“She should have died!”
And many more. Thus, I held my head straight and descended to the cave I had visited a month ago.
The stairs were as unfriendly as the previous time. But for the occasion of my baptism, the stone was decorated with flower petals of every colour possible.
On the last stair, the petals were a darker shade of purple, an ominous sign not lost on me.
It was my wake.
The Elk brought me two skulls, a stag and a boar. “Choose!” it ordered, its voice travelling over the walls of the cave.
I took the stag’s skull and descended into the Souls’ Pool, freezing water. I ignored the master when he demanded that I undress.
Feeling watched from head to toes, I took a deep breath to mask the shiver that passed through my body. My skin prickled as I placed the skull on my head, fitting it.
The sounds around me dimmed as the bones covered my ears. Through the skull’s eyes, I could only see some of the members lifting their arms in the air, the movement flickering the flames.
I stood still, waiting for the ceremony to begin.
Each member of the Order cut their skin deep enough to draw blood. The liquid dripped in the pool, swirls of it surrounding my body.
Gradually, heat engulfed my skin, replacing the coldness of the water. All at once, flames and ice filled my blood, my chest breaking in two. My pulse slowed, the veins tightening in my head. My knees buckled, the water slowly covering my whole body.
I bit my tongue to stop myself from screaming.
Everything hurt.
As the Goat Man told me, specks of fur replaced my smooth skin, hooves replaced palms and feet. My senses were amplified, feeling every scent, hearing every sound. I tried to talk, to scream, but there was a lump in my neck.
All the sounds, including the orchestra from outside, were mixing in my head, and I couldn’t discern anything. The only thing that I could focus on was the fragrance of old books and wax with earthy tones.
My skin felt thicker, immune to the icy water. For the amount of time I stood in it, everything heightened.
I felt endless.
I opened my eyes to more vibrant colours, the light from the candles almost blinding me. I closed them again, the air suffocating me.
A hoof touched my antlers and commanded me to get out of the water. Without any warning, my legs started walking. The dress was heavy on my body from the water. My hair was drenched, its heaviness making it difficult to step.
I didn’t dare gaze upon my hooves, not when their clacking was deafening.
My arms went immediately to my intimate parts. As I did that, laughter filled the space. I felt the Order’s cruelty in my bones, their raspy laughs making me harbour hatred.
My skin, or fur, burned with shame. It prickled on each nerve and muscle. I was not the simple peasant anymore.
I was The Stag Woman.
At once, everything went silent.
I didn’t have the courage to open my eyes. If I did, my vision would have been a blur from the tears, and I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.
“Ana Lazarov, The Stag Woman, welcome to our humble Order!” The Elk’s voice filled my ears, dispelling every thought. “Embrace your form as we did ours, for centuries. You can open your eyes now, woman.”
My eyes peered to see a delicate mirror, floating in front of me, flowers ingrained on its frame. Its size was the same as my mum’s mirror, which stayed on her nightstand. Fit for a gentle woman, as she would say.
“Now that you have your mirror, you will finally cross the threshold to our side, your purity and god long forgotten,” the Elk mocked.
I kept my mouth shut. My God would never be forgotten, not when He lived inside my mind with each passing second. Bowing my head at the Elk’s words, I focused on the familiar scent of old tomes.
Composing myself, I checked my reflection in my Mirror. It was majestic. I was not a fragile thing anymore.
Ivory bones stood in front of me, the antlers higher than any of the stags I’ve seen before. My fingers touched the rough surface; the elongated ridge was a haunting picture. Hands flew to the top, which resembled the pines’ branches outside the cave.
Yet even so, my mind and soul would never change.
“Now, we should choose for you a mentor. Since yours abandoned you,” the Elk jeered, my cheeks warm at the thought that it was right, “we should choose you another one!” Its upper hooves went in the air, making the ground rattle.
“I did not abandon her! Therefore, master, I will show her our ways.”
His hooves clanked, creating an echo. Every skull in the room watched his steps, parting the crowd in two. All their hollow eyes followed his body moving, his low voice making me tremble.
The Goat Man placed a cloak on my shoulders, a dark one with gold embroidery to match my dress. The fabric was soft on my skin, warming me instantly.
“Thank you,” I whispered, only for him to hear.
He ignored me completely, a challenging look passing between him and his master. “Are we through here?” He held his skull higher, his chest puffing.
The Elk nodded, pushing the mirror into one of my cloak’s pockets. “We’ll see how well she handles tomorrow.”
And with those words, every member of the Order, besides the Goat Man, faded away as in a dream.
“You came,” I whispered, sudden shivers rocking my body.
He removed my skull mask while keeping his own.
With his mind, he grabbed a piece of cloth and placed it over my eyes.
“I see you’re still hiding,” I whispered, touching the soft fabric. My ears perked at the sound of both skulls clattering on the stone floor.
He grabbed my elevated body in his furless arms by my legs and underarms, cocooning me at his chest. I closed my eyes, cradling my head in the nape of his neck. He was warm, or I was too cold, but somehow it felt as if we were in equilibrium.
Two pans of a balance, bound by fate.
“One day, dear Ana, I will think of myself as a good being. And then, you will see my true face.”
After he saved me from further embarrassment, I didn’t think of him as evil anymore. But something in between.
His arms, from time to time, pulsed, waking me from my dizziness. The words he spoke after were unclear, my mind conjuring the time when I felt the warmest.
In a past winter, my sister making the fire, blazing flames touching the wood logs. My mum’s plum jam on a fresh piece of bread. Snow surrounded our yard, and the livestock crowding in the coop.
I did not feel when the Goat Man ascended the stairs, nor when he climbed his horse. My brain registered his last words, which raised goosebumps on my skin.
“Sleep, agonising woman. Sleep, because tomorrow our fate awaits.”