~Bilana- in Wunerigohable, a small village~

Fire. Fire is everywhere. It’s climbing the walls and roofs of wood and clay houses, chasing and chomping down on the villagers and my thamade— our ‘respected elder’— as they scream and die. It’s trapping the animals in balls of death, not letting even birds escape. I can feel the heat and hear the cries from where I’m standing. And the smell. Oh, the smell of burning flesh that coats everything. I want to rip off my face and my ears so that I don’t have to see or hear or smell the carnage unfolding before me, but I do. I stand there helplessly— a useless witness.

Then, I hear laughter and I almost laugh along because how can someone laugh in this situation? I see him then: laughing as the fire circles around him like a faithful dog. His short white hair is dancing in the air from the heat of the fire. His pale skin is flushed red and his eyes—his eyes are looking at me. They glow golden and mad. I gulp, unable to move. Psetha. The god of souls. How? Why? Psetha isn’t supposed to destroy. He’s the soul of our world, here to nurture and protect us.

“Well, hello there,” he says, relaxed and playful like he’s greeting an old friend and I just can’t take it anymore. I don’t care if he’s the great Tha. I spread my legs apart for balance and raise my hands to attack. I will make him pay. He chuckles coldly and I shiver from the sound of it, but still, I hold my position.

“So, this time it is you,” he says humorlessly and I’m filled with the knowledge that yes, it is me. I am next.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I woke up with a gasp, taking deep breaths as I tried to focus on reality. The room was too dark to see anything so I focused on my other senses. The prickly feeling covering me came first. I held onto it with my hands, trying to understand what it was— my blanket. Then, the not-entirely-soft feeling underneath me— my pillow and bed; I was in my bed. I sighed and sat up, closing my eyes against the darkness of the room which was jarring after the nightmare. Again. I had the same nightmare again.

I wiped my face with my hands and groaned.

What was I supposed to do?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I walked through the village, seeing it all burn in my mind.

Every person I greeted, every animal I cooed at, every single house I walked by in this snow-filled month of Mezay were on fire.

I shook my head and quickened my steps, not caring how mad I looked running through the ice and snow.

I was out of breath when I reached my thamade's house and knocked on the door.

“Come in!” she called out and I let myself in, taking my boots off at the entrance.

There was a hallway dividing the house into two with two rooms on each side and a bathroom at the end—thamade's voice was coming from the kitchen/living room.

“Who is it?” she called out.

“It’s me, Bilana!” I called back as I shook off my coat in the hallway.

“Hello, thamade!” I said as I poked my head in the room.

The small room was warm unlike the hallway thanks to the wood burner in the corner.

My thamade was sitting on a low wooden divan covered with cushions, her hands knitting a scarf.

“Oh, Bilana! Welcome, welcome! Tıs, tıs!” she said, putting down the work and patting beside her.

I walked through the carpeted floor and sat down beside her as she had told me to and asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Good, good!” she said, patting my knee. “How about you? Are the villagers causing trouble for you?”

I smiled and patted her wrinkled and soft hand still holding onto my knee, “No, thamade. Everyone is great. Thank the great Tha, there hasn’t been many who got sick this winter.”

“Good, good,” she said, nodding. Then she carefully looked at me. “But there is something else bothering you, isn’t there?”

I sighed and looked down at my hands, playing with them nervously. “I had the same dream again.”

She pulled her hand back, and when I looked at her she was frowning. “Bilana, we talked about this.”

“But thamade-”

“Hush! You know what everyone will say if they hear of your dreams!” she whispered harshly.

I sighed. “I know, I know.”

She was right. The villagers didn’t know, but I was a witch. And they couldn’t know. If they found out that I was a witch, they would chase me out of here.

Like my parents had done when I was just a little child.

I owed my life to my thamade who had found and raised me when no one else would. It was thanks to her that I was a healer now instead of a witch who lived in the wild.

But I couldn’t ignore my nightmares when they were clearly not ordinary dreams. I plotted as I listened to my thamade talk about anything and everything.

I needed to do something, but what?

~Psetha- in Elbruz, City of Watchers~

“Good morning, your majesty.”

I grumbled in my sleep and turned away from the noise.

Then I felt patting on one arm.

The feeling of being shaken came next.

Someone called out, “your majesty,” again.

Finally, I sighed and sat up, my eyes still closed.

“Good,” that same voice said, and I opened my eyes, watching as he bustled around in the room. He opened the curtains to let light in. Then he prepared my bath, the water bubbling as it transferred from the buckets into the tub. Finally, he brought out my clothes for the day.

“I don’t know you.”

“Guşipsa, your majesty,” he said, bowing.

“Stop with that, so unnecessary,” I grumbled and got out of bed.

“As you wish, your majesty.”

Your majesty. Hah! I was more of a prisoner than a king, really. Still, I didn’t correct him as he called me “your majesty” and bowed his way out of the room.

I gathered my long, black hair and threw it behind me to see better. The room was clean as always.

How I wanted to mess up this tidiness…

I walked to the window and looked outside— down and down the scenery went, the city below becoming specks in the end.

We were on Mt. Elbruz, the mountain of the gods— the mountain of the watchers now, my watchers.

Because one day this power I was never meant to control would be my undoing, and they would be there to make sure the damage was contained to this mountain, never letting the knowledge of it escape.

Just as I had done for the previous Psetha…

I shook my head to rid myself of the thoughts of my şıphunahıj— my ‘elder sister’. She wouldn’t have wanted me to waste time grieving and I had already grieved enough—three years spent in grief.

I had to find a way out of this before I ran out of time.