Leena Likitalo: The Five Daughters of the Moon

“Summer memory, grass, bare feet.” The witch lowered a long strand of what I hoped was just ordinary grass on the table, next to Alina. She glanced at Merile’s unmoving shape before the fireplace and said, “Lupine stem, you see too much.”

The rats by Merile’s side stirred then. The black one turned to stare at the witch. So did the brown one. The witch shook her head at them. “You. No time yet. You sleep.”

The rats lay down. They understood the witch’s words better than I did.

I wrapped my arms across my chest. Elise noticed my discomfort. She placed her arm around my shoulder. “She’s helping us.”

I knew that much, but still, any sensible person is afraid of a witch. Hence, I waited till the witch had drifted to the alcove before I whispered in as low voice as I could, “But she knows too much of us.”

“Hush,” Elise whispered back at me. “She can do us no harm.”

But the only light in the cottage came from the red-black embers. The tiny, thick windows didn’t let in the Moon’s light. That must have contributed to Captain Janlav’s agreeing to wait outside. Our father couldn’t see us. He couldn’t come to our aid.

The witch returned to the table. In her right hand she clutched a clay jar. In her left a piece of dry rye bread balanced on top of a carved cup. “Sweet, one love, other hate. Give away. Again. More.”

Elise’s arm, still around my shoulders, tensed. The honey was meant to represent me. The rye bread? That symbolized Elise, but why and how? And why did my sister react as she did?

“One more,” the witch said, motioning Celestia to meet her at the end of the table.

In the dim, red light, my fair sister resembled a spark itself. Something that strived, for a moment, with unfathomable beauty and vibrancy, but perished when it strayed too far from home, into the merciless night. “What shall it be?”

“Your finger,” the witch said, and I did gasp and Elise gasped too.

But Celestia boldly held out her little finger. If she feared that the witch might cut it off, no trace of that showed on her face, or in her posture for that matter. The witch cackled as she brought her thumbnail against my sister’s fingertip and promptly nicked the skin. “In cup it go.”

Celestia poised her hand above the cup. A tiny red drop swelled on the curve of her fingertip. It swelled larger, burst. Her blood trickled into the cup.

“Enough,” the witch said, and Celestia stepped aside, sucking her finger. Scribs, the scriptures say that our blood contains power. Then again, your pages say many things. One day I’ll figure out what’s nonsense and what’s actually useful. I swear to you that, and if you really want to call yourself my friend one day, you’ll hold me accountable for it.

“You watch,” the witch said to Celestia, Elise, and me before she gestured at Merile. Our sister hadn’t shifted an inch since entering the cottage. “Or you not. If you watch, you not stop. If you not watch, you not see.”

Celestia nodded regally. As she’s the eldest, it’s her duty to watch over us. Elise shook her head and withdrew her arm from around me. She wanted no part in the witchcraft to come. I hesitated, I admit. A part of me wanted to wait by the fireplace, to warm up, to forget. But a greater part of me wanted to know what would come to pass, even if this would cost me dearly later. I shuffled to Celestia even as Elise joined Merile.

The witch grinned at me, somehow pleased by my choice. “You watch. No more. No matter what come pass.”

I gripped Celestia’s hand before I realized what I was doing, and forced myself to loosen my hold. She laced her fingers between mine. Our hands were so very cold, even as they had company.

The witch picked up the cup with both hands and stirred the contents. She brought it up to her blue-tinted lips and exhaled from between her crooked teeth. The exhale lasted for a long time—not as if it came from the bottom of her lungs, but from the bottom of her soles. No, not even from her soles, but from under the creaking floorboards, from the very soil of the empire.

She lowered the cup to the same level as her heart. A thin wisp of golden mist coiled up from the cup. The cottage filled with the faintest scent of summer, mixed with moments before rain, blending with that of honey pastries and backstreet alleys, and then sharpening to a piercing moment of… betrayal. I don’t know why I thought of all these things, but I know I wasn’t mistaken.

I shuffled even closer to Celestia, farther away from the witch.

The witch circled the table once more, chanting under her breath. The tone was low, barely more than a growl. But I felt it vibrate under my feet. With each round the witch made, the trembling intensified. Once she started the fifth round, I glanced up, expecting to see the dried herbs and leaves rain upon us. But not a leaf shifted.

Celestia kissed the side of my head. We shouldn’t say a word, lest the spell might break. Both of us cared too deeply for Alina to risk that, and so we stood there, the thundering of our hearts the only sound we made.

The witch lowered the cup at Alina’s feet. She formed a cup of flesh with her palms and waited till the golden mist filled it to the brim. When she drifted to offer it to our sister, it seemed to me her feet no longer touched the floor.

“Part lips,” the witch whispered. “Taste now.”

And as ordered, Alina’s lips parted. She breathed through her mouth, inhaling the golden mist.

“Follow trail back to we.”

Alina’s body tensed, from the tip of her toes to the top of her head—clearly she was going to have another spasming attack! If Celestia hadn’t held on to my arm tight, I would have rushed to Alina. I had to remind myself that I’d chosen to watch. I could have chosen not to. It was too late to regret my choice. Perhaps that was a lesson of sorts to me.

“Come back,” the witch repeated.

Alina’s spine arched so steeply that a cat could have leaped between her and the table. The witch brought her hand against my sister’s heart and gently pushed her down. My sister didn’t remain still for long. Her feet and head lifted up, up till she bent like the letter U .

“Come back to sisters. Come back to world.”

With these words, Alina went limp. Then a shudder ran through the whole length of her body. Another one. Four of them altogether. She went limp again. The witch smiled.

“Open eyes.”

I held my breath, and so did Celestia. For a moment, nothing whatsoever happened, and I feared the witch had failed, that her magic had hurt our sister, that she was lost permanently in the world beyond this one.

Alina’s eyes flung open. She blinked rapidly, and then she swung up to sit on the table so that she faced Celestia and me. She said, “My eyes are open. They’ve been that way all the time.”

I rushed to her then, and so did Celestia. We embraced her together, not quite sure how to place our arms. A moment later, Elise and Merile joined the embrace. We held her, each other, kissing temples and foreheads, rejoicing at being five again, being together.

“It be done.”

The witch’s croak broke us apart. We shuffled on both sides of Alina, so that she could make her way to our sister. I didn’t exactly want to move farther away from her, but you couldn’t very well oppose a witch’s will. No matter how seeing her might frighten my sister.

But instead, Alina stared at the witch in childlike fascination. “You are cloaked in shadows.”

The witch grinned at her, offering a steaming cup. Whether it was the same she’d used before or a different one, I don’t know. To be honest, I don’t even want to guess.

Alina accepted the cup, but suspicion narrowed her deep-set eyes.