Samhain by Fiona 'Athene' Wilson

She walked.

As she walked, clouds slid across her cool cheeks and swirled around her toes, tendrils of chilled vapour twisting about her ankles and wreathing her hair.

Her bare feet made no sound as she glided through the mists, the skirts of her simple light green shift rippling in her wake. Her gaze was fixed on some unknown point before her. Somewhere out there were the voices that called to her and bound her to their will with invisible chains that were far beyond her power to break. It had always been like this. They summoned her, and she obeyed. There could be no other way. Their voices filled her head, setting her mind awash with waves of longing. They drowned out everything else until there was nothing of any importance in the world except the will to join them and be one with them once again...

Behind her, other people were calling he name, begging her to turn around, to come back to the safety of the light, and solid walls and floors. But their voices were mere whispers, faint ripples in the depths of her consciousness that left no lingering marks and faded without a trace, as if they never there.

A wind began to blow, tugging at her clothing, whipping long wisps of her hair across face, but still she moved onwards. The wind continued to rush towards the sea, far away over the mountains, and the clouds that surrounded her parted and drifted away on the breeze.

High above the earth she trod the air, casting no shadow on the ground, though the moon and the stars were shining brightly in the heavens. A faint silver glimmer danced about her, gathering briefly at her fingertips, then slipping up her arms, curling about her neck and sliding through the strands of her hair. It ebbed and flowed across her pale skin, plucking icy diamonds from about her slender wrists and throat before sweeping them in a glittering spiral to the shadows below.

She began to climb, moving lithely up an invisible stairway that rose above the towering peaks of the mountains. The pale shade of a small brown mouse flickered at her heels, disappearing and then reappearing on each new step, running through her feet and the folds of her dress, its ghostly form wavering in the moonlight. Still she moved upwards, oblivious to everything but the all-consuming need to reach her unknown end.

Above her another girl, younger than her, sat alone further up the stairway. Her beautiful face was stained with the silvery tears that brimmed in her clear blue eyes. Her slender frame shook with silent sobs, but although her bottom lip quivered dangerously, no sound escaped hr as the tears continued to stream down her cheeks.

The dress that she wore was ever-changing; one moment she was clad in rags fit only for the lowliest peasant, the next in an elegant silk gown, that only a queen could ever wear. She shifted from the depths of poverty to the luxury of the wealthy and back again in an instant, the changes melding together seamlessly. Her sad expression never altered, however, and although her dress was a flurry of movement, not so much as a single strand of her coal-black hair moved in the breeze. Like the mouse, she seemed ethereal and indistinct, and stray wisps of mist passed straight through her on their journey across the plains.

Her eyes, her long wavy hair, her neat, slightly pointed ears, even the way she held herself, were so similar to those of the girl climbing toward her that they could not be anything except sisters, although the girl sitting on the steps had an air of sweetness and vulnerability that her older sister lacked.

As the older girl neared her she reached out a hand beseechingly, her eyes pleading, her lips forming the start of a name. Her sister walked through her without a word, her gaze still fixed on some faraway destination. The force that pulled her onwards was even stronger than before, the voices no longer gently persuading but insistent and demanding. Their beauty was gone, but she could no longer tell.

Behind her the younger girl buried her face in her hands, her muffled sobs echoing eerily around the snow-clad mountains. The mouse clambered into her lap and nudged its nose into her ear, and she slowly raised her head. She sniffed a few times while the mouse twitched its whiskers at her, then sighed softly and shook her head, tears slipping from her cheeks to land on the skirts of her now pale blue beaded dress. The mouse ran up her sleeve and emerged again on her shoulder before curling up in a comforting ball by her neck. The girl sighed again, almost inaudibly. A small puff of silver vapour slipped from her mouth to enfold her slight form in a shimmering cloak as both her and the mouse slowly faded from view. Then they were gone, and the mist was caught by the breeze, briefly outlining the step on which they had sat in glistening swirls before being swept away into the night.

And still she walked onwards…