Dawn didn’t come the next day. Instead the morning air found everyone separated, nestled between pine roots or face turned up to catch the breeze on the ridge or cross-legged by the river and lakes listening to the sounds of water and ice. The entire sky was a deep black, though at times, on the edge of my vision, it looked almost blue. It was darker than what the goddess had done at the procession on the Calling Road and there weren’t stars or moonlight to provide relief from the void. Those that could lit their way to their chosen spot with flickers of flame while those of us without the common blessing had to settle with feeling our way through the darkness.

That was how the Dark Night celebrations began. No grand ceremonies or rituals. Just darkness, solitude, and quiet awe and horror as the goddess effortlessly brought Her land back to the Era of Night for four days.

I sat curled up between the roots of a large pine, my cloak and a blanket keeping out the worst of the cold though at times I had to use my hands and breath to warm up my nose. Prevna and Wren were somewhere around the trunk of the tree—Old Lily had led Prevna and me here, and another Echo had brought Wren. I assumed they wanted us together so that there was little chance of us getting lost in the dark before they came to get us again. There were also a handful of younger kids among the outer roots that I assumed had bless marks, but I didn’t pay attention to them much like I had when I was younger.

This was my time to enjoy quiet solitude. Nor did the prospect of craning my head to catch a glimpse of someone I might not have anything to do with before their guide’s flame went out appeal to me.

So I snuggled deeper into my cloak and blanket, pictured the pine rising higher than the others in the forest, and tried to mediate on how I could uphold the goddess’s strength. I focused on my breathing and did my best to experience the current moment—the bitter cold drying out my mouth, rustling pine needles over my head, the childish fear that something might leap out at me simply because I couldn’t see past my nose—but rather than my relationship to the goddess my mind turned to myths and planning.

There was the main Grislander tale of course, but some thought that the tree pressed against my back used to be a mountain of a man by the name of Welmick. He had thought to challenge the notion that only women were worthy to receive bless marks and become whisper women. His grand plan was to reawaken Grislander and show that he could also bring the dog in submission. He never got the chance. The goddess let him get five steps onto the mountains from the valley before turning him into a tree so that his fingers would forever be prickling needles grasping their last supplication. Others thought another large tree outside the valley was the one from the legend, but I tended to agree with the former. If you looked at this tree in the daylight it was said that sometimes you could see a terrified face in the knots on the trunk.

The pitch black sky also reminded me of the darkness of the caves in Flickermark which brought to mind the legend of the Crone. Grandmother had been the one to tell the tribe the tale during a quiet evening some years past. No one knew her origins, whether she was mortal or had once been, but all agreed that if you had knowledge to trade and dire need you might find the entrance to her lair in the great forest to the south on a misty night. Inside you would find a great cave system, half natural and half carved with the Crone’s own hands, filled with scrolls and knowledge etched into the walls. Other treasures could also be found strewn into the corners such as slings that would never break and amulets that could locate fresh water or draw game and artifacts from other legends. But nothing could be taken without the Crone’s knowledge, so you had to find her in her underground web, meet her purple gaze and pet burrow snake—abnormally large enough to swallow a reindeer whole—and hope that your tidbit of knowledge was enough payment for what you wanted. Most were turned away empty handed and weren’t ever able to find the entrance again, others ignored the danger and tried to steal only to become the snake’s next meal. Those that were rewarded often kept it a secret so that they didn’t become the target of thieves and opportunists, unless their reward was knowledge that they had to be alive to tell.

If I had opportunity someday, however slim a chance it was, I wanted to visit those caves. The wealth of knowledge was too intriguing to ignore. Perhaps I could learn more about the goddess or Her Beloved there or more about poisons and plants or a special myth that not many knew.

Not that the legend could help me with my current lack of knowledge about the Seedling Palace. Now that my departure was a mere four days away that fact loomed large in my mind. I would have to pay attention to everything and learn as much as I could as soon as I arrived. There was little else I could do. Regardless of what I learned my goal remained the same: become a whisper woman and from there work my up to becoming one of the goddess’s chosen. I could use my general knowledge about whisper women and history to bribe Prevna and Wren and other girls who needed it, should I need to work with a group. And at some point I knew we would need to earn and learn the four boons whisper women received: the ability to travel through a tree’s shadow, communicate at a distance using the wind, increased resilience to the elements, and the ability to see in perfect darkness.

Most whisper women seemed like they spent anywhere from six to ten years training in the Seedling Palace, but I aimed to be on the early side of that time line. I also wasn’t sure how it was decided which sect you were placed in once you graduated or which one would give me the best chance of becoming one of the chosen, but it was said that the High Priestess was one of the Hundred Eyes, so that could be a good place to start.

I shivered as a gust of wind blew past and loosened some of the snow resting on the branches above me. Some hit my shoulder while other flecks stung my face. It made me wish for a fire and extra warmth or even a tent to protect against the wind, but experiencing the dark was mandatory for the first morning of the celebrations. No fires, cooking or otherwise, would be allowed until later in the day at the Grandmothers' discretion. Those that finished their meditation and reflection could return to their tent or the meeting hall, however.

I continued to ruminate on what was to come as I waited for Old Lily to come collect Prevna and me. It was frustrating how little I could prepare, and unease prickled every time I thought about how soon I would lose everything I had ever known. Once the whisper women took me and the other two at the end of the celebrations there would no longer be anyone who knew my history or that I grown…fond of. I would be free of being a ‘healer’s daughter’ and the thrill of that was both exciting as well as a bit melancholy despite that I could now work with poisons. I’d have to build a new place for myself without the framework of the tribe I had always known surrounding me. I touched a finger to the three dots on my chin; no matter what it cost, I would do it.

Old Lily came a while later with other Echoes before they split off to collect their charges. She went to Prevna first before coming around the tree’s trunk to me. I was already standing and ready by then, so Old Lily gave me a soft smile as her flame died away before she snapped and re-lit it.

The trek through the snow to Grandmother’s tent was an isolating one. The glow of Old Lily’s fire as well the other ones in the distance only made the darkness around us seem heavier. We couldn’t even see the mountains rising up around the valley though her flame did help us see closer to what we normally could in the dark.

The rest of the day passed quietly. There was a balance to strike between honoring the goddess and drawing her eye. Even once the official time for individual reflection was over most conversations were kept short and soft, and many focused on individual activities that were thought to increase the death within them. Huntresses remembered their best hunts and carved statues by feel while herders went through their herds and marked which animals were ready for slaughter. Grandmother pricked her wrists and forehead before continuing her meditation while Old Lily hit her rhythm sticks together and re-lit her flame at routine intervals. The other wards, Prevna, and I kept ourselves busy with menial tasks as there wasn’t much else we could do in the tent with minimal light.

Everyone gathered in the meeting hall for the evening meal and it was a relief to see a few stars shine down and the moon rise up as we made our way there. I could see the best then than I had seen all day. We ate a dinner of flat bread, pluckings, and stewed greens as per tradition before the second day’s fasting. Then everyone spread out in front of the meeting hall while Grandmothers and their Echoes made their way on top of it. For once, the other wards and me didn’t have to follow them to offer our blood in a line. That would be a task for everyone this time.

The moon was a thin crescent, but even that was enough to cast the Grandmothers and Echoes in silvery light as stars filled up the sky around it, like flecks of snow cast on a dark blanket. The Grandmothers stood to the front of the meeting hall while the Echoes lined up behind them. A hand slipped into mine before quickly retreating as a rhythmic beat echoed through the valley. I glanced to the side to see Fellen give me a knowing smile and tucked her hands behind her back before she focused on the spectacle in front of us. I tucked the small pouch she had given me into another at my belt before doing the same.

The Grandmothers spoke in unison, “Do you honor the goddess?”

We dropped to our knees with the rest of crowd and crossed our wrists over our head. “We honor Her!”

“Do you thank Her for Her bountiful gifts? The fire that burns you and lights your way? The land that nourishes you?”

“We thank Her!”

“The goddess does not accept empty platitudes! How do you thank Her?”

And the chant began, rising in fervor like a storm brewing on the horizon. “Blood. Blood. Blood!”

“Then She shall have blood!”

Prayer needles were pulled free and nearly two thousand people pricked their marks and let droplets of blood fall in the ringing silence left in the absence of the Echoes’ beat. We waited with bated breath before exclaims of relief bubbled through the crowd as the droplets began to flake away.

The gathering didn’t end there, however. The crowd quieted as one by one the Grandmothers stepped forward to tell tales of the goddess’s feats. One spoke of Grislander and another of Welmick and a third of the beginning of the Era of Night when the goddess overpowered her sister and swept the whole continent in darkness. Our Grandmother told the tale of the goddess and Her Beloved’s first meeting as it was a favorite of hers. I listened with rapt attention, only occasionally breaking focus to share a look with Fellen. The stories continued long into the night but I refused to miss a single detail due to tiredness. These were important tales to remember. Nor could I ignore the bittersweet feeling, even if I refused to openly acknowledge it, that this was one of the last times I would get to share Fellen’s company. So I gave her a couple small smiles and quietly recited extra details for some of the stories while she wouldn’t let me look at her gift in her presence and had fun trying to guess which story would be told next.