Bea
My skin crawls as the sun begins to set, and as darkness spreads through the glen, so does my dread. I try not to think about them. The souls that cried out to me last night, begging for my help, but even so, my eyes keep flicking towards the After.
The darkness pouring from it pulses, inhaling and exhaling as if the shadows are alive, and I shiver.
I grab another piece of wood and throw it on the fire, kicking myself for not asking Theo to collect more for me while he was here. The stack has dwindled since Brennen left, and there's nothing to gather within the length of my chain. Soon, it will run out completely.
The thought of being trapped in the dark with the ghosts of the After makes my lungs constrict, and I crawl inside the tent and close the flaps. I do not want to know if the ghosts come again tonight. Not when there's nothing I can do to help them.
I close my eyes and try to sleep, but my body is too alert. The ground shudders, groaning as if the earth might crack open and swallow me whole, and I stiffen. Fear wraps around my heart so tight I worry it might stop beating altogether.
Even without hearing their cries yet, I know they’re coming. I feel their presence. Restless souls wandering the mouth of the After. But why? I squeeze my eyes shut, counting the beats of my heart, trying to think of anything other than the figures lurking outside my tent.
A soft noise floats through the night. Someone humming, and my hair stands on end. I know that melody.
It's the one from my visions. The humming turns to singing, but it's not a beautiful sound. The voice is cracked and pained.
There's friendship in bushels and tales long been said.
Let's tell each other's before we fall dead.
Can happen in moments, the blink of an eye
The river will take you when it’s time to die.
On shaking legs, I rise, holding my breath as I peek out of the tent. It's the song the tailor’s daughter was singing, and through my fear, I wonder why I didn't notice the part about the river before.
A song cannae tell you the time it will end.
As long as you live, a new one can begin.
She knows whose coming, she’s waited all night.
Held off on the last verse until you arrived.
Dark shapes drift through the After. Some crawling. Some standing. It’s horrifying, these figures who are somehow both human and not. They wander aimlessly, all except for one.
She stands in the middle of the river, closer than she was last night.
So sing till the song takes the life it was due,
Some hands hold the blade, and some hands hold the truth.
When the river runs red and the After draws near,
The darkness will come and bring all that you fear.
I move out of the tent, unable to stop myself. Needing to confirm what I already know in my gut. That this is the tailor's daughter. The woman I warned to run. I recognize her voice now, even though I can’t see her, still shrouded by shadows.
I feel her eyes on my face as she holds out a grey hand and tilts her head. Her voice changes suddenly, the tone dropping.
The Washwoman kneels with her palms stained with red,
She sings to each soul, knows each name of the dead.
When her mind breaks again, and the river runs dry.
She'll think of the poor souls who taught her to die.
The last note trails off, and the woman turns towards the others.
“She rises,” the woman says, but it comes out as almost a moan. Like a match ignited, the dark figures surge toward me all at once.
“Help us,” they beg.
“It hurts,” they cry.
I scream in terror, stumbling back. “I don't know how!”
“It's because of you we are here,” the tailor's daughter spits, throwing a finger toward me.
I shake my head, my heart racing. “No. I warned you to run. I said you were in danger!!”
“Only you can stop this,” she says. “Only you can get them to let us in.”
The figures get closer, and the darkness melts away from them. I can see them now clearly. Betty. The woman on the hill. All of the women I've seen in my visions. Their faces are pale, twisted in agony.
“Help us,” they beg, feral. Unlike the tailor’s daughter, they almost don't appear human at all.
“What's wrong with them?” I ask. “Why can you talk to me, but they can only cry out in pain?”
“Being trapped in between rots your mind. I havenae been here as long, but I will soon be like them, too, should you not help us.”
My ears ring as pressure builds in my chest. “Me? But I’m trapped here, too. What am I supposed to do?” I ask.
She shakes her head, her sad eyes pleading. “I cannae tell you more, but it’s there in your mind. Everything you need, you already know.”
“But I don’t know anything,” I say, raising my hands in front of me. Her eyes lock onto the bloodstains.
The woman lunges toward me, and I scream. “You do! You know the truth! Help us!” The sadness in her features shifts to anger, and I stumble back. The movement must catch the other souls’ eyes, because they surge forward, descending on me as one.
I back up, fear burning in my blood hotter than a brand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m sorry!” I say, but they do not stop.
“Help us!”
Something pulls at my skirt, and I scream when I see the woman from the pub clinging to the skirt of my dress. She cries out, pain etched into her saggy, grey skin. I rip my dress away, turning to run.
“I’m sorry!” I say, tears streaming down my face as I sprint as fast as I can onto the shore and dive into the tent. I stare through the flaps, waiting for them to follow, but they do not come after me. They remain just inside the river, arms reaching out as if straining to reach me, and I shiver.
It doesn’t look as if they can leave the water.
For now, at least.
I close the flaps and hide beneath the covers, covering my ears. It’s not that I don’t want to help them. I do, desperately. Nothing would be worse than being a lost soul, but what can I do? If the Three of the path are not allowing them to enter, there must be a reason.
I search my mind for answers, but they do not come. I cannot focus with the cries of the dead seeping through the cracks of my fingers, begging me to set them free.
It’s not until the sun peaks above the horizon that they stop, and when the moon once again returns, so do they.