Hallowed Souls

Chapter One

                                70.9.1.6.3

Snow was falling and the air was cold. It was a strange sight for Hella. Snow rarely fell on Sunfreill and she had never seen snow before, apart from what covered the mountain tops. Outside the flakes drifted down, soft and silent. The snowfall had already covered the ground outside, covering the grasses and dusting the bushes with white powder. Hella walked outside, barefooted. As she stepped on the snow, she felt a shiver go through her. It was cold and wet, nothing like she imagined snow to be.

Hella ran back inside and grabbed a pair of boots before running back outside. She walked past twisted trees and old shrubs, in awe at such a sight. She passed the poplar tree and the pile of wooden planks they used to rebuild their fences. She closed her eyes and wished she could stay here forever. No war on the horizon, everything silent and at peace. She lifted her face to the sky and she could taste the snow on her lips.

She was alone outside, but it didn't matter. The other children didn't like her anyway. They mocked her and called her a princess, all because of her mother who liked to claim that she was. But even they were far better than the men, at least the children mocked her openly.

She knelt to the ground and started piling snow together, shaping and clumping them, as she would with sand on a beach. She scooped together two snowballs before pushing them together to make her house. She grabbed a twig to make the white poplar where she rested each afternoon. Before long, she was building all sorts of things. A horse, a bear, a man, though she admitted they looked more like white lumps than what they were supposed to be. She worked tirelessly in the snow, yet even though her hands were wet and her knees cold, she built. As she worked, she heard a strange ringing, the sound of bells ringing at different pitches, but she gave it no mind.

Someone called her. It took her a few seconds before she understood. Come inside, her mother said. It was as if two or three people had spoken and she could barely understand.

"Maybe later, mother!" She screamed back.

She continued working. She built a mound and shaped the temple on top of it. She added in some small houses and the docks. All the while, the snow kept on falling.

She did not remember falling, but she was on the ground and she was trembling, as if it was freezing cold, yet her skin boiled. Her legs shook against the falling snow and it seemed as if the snow was whispering to her, their voices clamoring beside her head. She started screaming and her mother came rushing outside. Their neighbors came too, to see what the commotion was. They grabbed her and started bringing her to her house.

"No! No!" Hella screamed. She feared her skull would come apart if she crossed the threshold of her house's door. She started punching and kicking at them.

"She's possessed!" She could her them scream. "Tell the priest!"

They carried her and she could hear the snow screaming at her. "Die! Die!" The voices yelled.

They set her down on a table and they held her limbs down against it. She could hear them screaming and shouting. She tried to free herself and started twisting and moving. She saw a man rush in with a knife and another man grabbing him by the arm before giving it a sharp twist.

And that was all she could remember. The next thing she knew, she lay flat on a straw mat. She turned her head to the side and she saw an altar, in the distance, she could hear mumbling, the sound of prayers. She wore an old worn-out blue robe that was too large for her. Underneath it was a kamairo, a traditional Salmeran undergarment. The thought of people undressing her made her shiver.

Hella stood from the mat and started walking. She was in the rectory of the temple, she knew, and it seemed as if a Parkutal Tipura was being undergone. The Great Rite was held at dawn, noon and dusk, and it seemed bright so she assumed it was noon by then. Everything felt misty to her, she felt dazed as she tried to walk. As she tried to remember what had happened, only vague glimpses came to her. She could recall incense, chanting in Parbatian, the strange eastern tongue none but the priests knew, the rattling of sistra, and the various ways they had forced her to eat and drink.