I tensed as the panel slid open. A ray of sunshine filtered past the supplicant and reflected the light into my sensitive eyes. Too late, I covered my eyes and rolled myself up in the ratty tapestry that served as my bedsheets.

Michelle Warde was an ingot of tarnished steel. The Nuclear Winter had taken its toll. She was a mottled mess of discolored skin. Infertility was a common ailment among women. It even ranked above the frequency of mutation among newborns.

I thought she bore a striking resemblance to one of my treasures: a patchwork doll that looked to have been cobbled together from a cadre of its dismantled brethren. Emboldened by my own assurances that the relation was wholly and unequivocally true, I indulged my fascination in my jailer. Once I’d even dared to take a hearty gulp of air left in the warden’s wake, and wrinkled my nose over the putrid scent of corruption. I was punished, of course, but no amount of induced starvation and long periods of cramped confinement could do nothing to dull my fascination.

Helga had been slowed by a scathing comment from Michelle demanding caution, but her attempt at delicacy was ruined when her shoulder caught one of the lower support beams— still ten foot high at least— and she stomped an impressively large hole through the thin wooden panels that had been repurposed. My laughter bounced off the walls and filled the dark room with a brightness that, although unsuccessful, tried mightily to produce a spark of joy in my caretakers.

“Six! Are you listening to me? Hello? Anybody in there?” Michelle called patronizingly.

I allowed myself a wistful sigh as I drummed up a thoughtful stare that singled out a precious memory from my past. The Matriarch had long since passed judgment on Six as unworthy of a name of my own. Holding out hope that their famously inflexible Village Chief would change her mind was foolhardy at best, so I’d banished all the wistful thoughts and set to work. Compelled to discover a suitable name for myself, I spent almost a full turn of the seasons before I decided on my unlikely new name.

A stinging slap ordered my wandering thoughts and spread a cold numbness through my head.

I rubbed the tender flesh of my face in mute resignation. “Ma’am?”

Spittle dribbled out of Michelle’s twisted mouth. “We will make you presentable, and you will help… unless you care to be relieved of those revolting baubles of yours?”

With my eyes alone, I tried to capture the unorganized mounds of treasure that I’d accumulated over the years. Hunters returned with odd stones and odder devices with no discernible purpose. There were one thousand four hundred and eighty-seven books in various states of decay, and I’d read each of them twice. Some of the books I’d read three times or more. In other words, on top of everything else they found wrong with me, the whole village thought I was some kind of junk collector.

I glanced in astonishment at Helga when her giant snort ruffled my clothes from halfway across the room. “You’d do better to convince a pig not to eat. There’s more than one whelp from the Matriarch’s brood that can set things right.”

—

—

—

The blessing of their local deity revitalized the land; dead timber grew new shoots and soon the animals returned. With a source of clean water to feed the irrigation system and a trustworthy old well, Altressor thrived. As long as the god that had fallen into their laps was happy, it was thought the Nuclear Winter was only a bad dream.

So it was no wonder that the Matriarch— and the rest of the village, too— was feverishly devoted: to breeding like rabbits so that a replacement is ready when an old vessel is all dried up; to maintaining peace and order by doing away with traditional patriarchal ideals for the good of all humankind.

One of the most debilitating parts about playing the household god to Altressor was how much of my life I spent confined. Years ago I had been denied the forests, and the village soon followed. For a time I was allowed to roam the village and its outskirts so long as I had a Warden escort, but even that privilege had been revoked around the time the Seventh was named my replacement. While she was groomed to ascend to godhood, I had done the best I could to stay fit by exercising indoors and taking advantage of my infrequent jaunts to reassure the townspeople.

I made my rounds around dusk. Hegel and Michelle both accompanied me. Although the circuit was not altogether unfamiliar and the children balked, teased and skittered out of the way were no less plucky… something wasn’t right. Properly superstitious folk fell to their hands and knees and prayed: for fortune, for love, for forgiveness, for health and longevity— for far more than they deserved. I stared blankly and ignored my chafing wrists as the warden leashed me to her with a rough length of twine.

“Well? Bless them!”

I didn’t get outside much, so when I did, I made sure to drink in all the details I could. Daydreams about exploring wouldn't help me get a handle on the aching longing in my chest, but it was better than nothing. The more I stared, the more the Dark Forest beckoned.

I must’ve been straining madly against my bonds, because the next thing I knew, I was sprawled on the ground. Falling backwards onto my bound hands hadn’t made for a happy ending. My left middle finger was awkward and unresponsive; my right wrist was surely sprained from the awkward impact.

A voice cut through the silence. “Out for a jaunt, ladies? Day after day, and the Sixth fails to create the tiniest miracle. But no matter. At last, the failure is to be removed and Altressor shall prosper again,” Dastan Svante said, wagging my eyebrows.

Svante swaggered past with a merry chuckle and a sardonic smile. Although the two of us had been born in the same winter, we led very different lives. Dastan was the prized stallion; he’d fathered many healthy whelps, most of them girls. Called the pride of Altressor, he stood for everything that I did not.

Squirming like an eel in an attempt to stand, I almost didn’t catch a muted yet intense conversation between Rin Kwasimoto and Samuel Forester. Though he was by far the most experienced woodsman in the village, old man Forest knew better than to think himself a match for an Altressor woman. From the smallest boy to the strongest adult male, they were, to a man, beasts that needed a firm hand to guide them.

Forest pointed insistently at the shadows that danced at the edge of the Dark Forest. “Believe it or not, that’s how it is. An outsider will soon reach the village. No doubt they’re here to stir up trouble. And I’d wager the clothes off my back—boots and all— that there’s only one thing we have that’s worth a damn… and it’s standing right there!” Forest said, his finger a sharpened stake that dug at my flesh.

My upraised arms created a thin barrier that was quickly shredded by the accusation. “It’s not my fault! You have to believe me,” I pleaded.

“I’ll inform the Matriarch. Keep a close watch,” Michelle said, calling over her shoulder as she sprinted away.

Helga’s cold eyes sparkled with amusement, but she gripped my leash with white-knuckled determination.

“Stop staring! Stop it, you… you… you monster! Stop looking at me!” Forest said.

Manic terror shone in the woodsman’s eyes; they rolled up in his head and he collapsed right then and there. I gulped and took a half-step back— and was stopped cold by a wall of flesh. I arched my back and head backwards to confirm what he already knew… it was Helga.

“Avert your eyes, or would you rather I pluck them out?” Helga forced me to bow my head. My neck ached from being subjected to the casual show of force.

I cradled my arm and pretended to see something interesting in the sunken, sandy veins beneath my skin. Although the accusation was by no means a new one, I could say nothing in my own defense. I twirled a lock of my silky white hair between thumb and forefinger, wishing for the umpteenth time that I’d been born in a different time and place.

I had never felt more like a brittle pane of glass. A dextrous set of hands clutched my heartstrings like a marionette, and my heart leapt out of my chest. Was I so fragile that the smallest touch would break me?

A furtive glance assured me that other than her firm grip, Helga was otherwise occupied with scanning the area for the outsider. Looking appropriately chastised, I sat crosslegged on the ground and cast a petulant look at the grass that made my skin itch. Pretending to ignore everything else, I shifted my weight so I could pluck them from the earth.

Michelle’s dark hair was matted with sweat, and her sides heaved. “The Matriarch has called for an emergency gathering. We must welcome this outsider into our midst to allay suspicion; outright violence is forbidden. The Sixth is to kept under watch, but unbound. As we speak the holy space is being cleansed; it will be made to look like a place of common worship.”

Helga’s eyes darted around in search of the imminent threats. It was clear by her lack of reaction that she hadn’t heard the news, let alone noticed the return of the senior warden.

A note of command snapped a contrite-looking Helga to attention. “Untie him,” Michelle said.

She did as she was told. The rough twine chafed against the raw belt of skin of my wrists while Helga’s clumsy fingers worked to undo the bindings. With each coil of braided rope that piled haphazardly on the ground, I felt disproportionately lighter. A feverish tingle traveled up my spine and he broke out into a cold sweat of frightful anticipation. Against my best efforts, hope flowered and filled the far reaches of my soul.

A traveler was here! Here, in Altressor! It was rare enough that hunters discovered signs of human life on their patrols, but no outsider had ever braved the dark forest and survived. My mind conjured up images of people that could defy all odds and triumph against any foe. The mysterious figure ballooned to inhuman proportions until I suspected we’d be visited by a giant.

I took a breath of fresh air and looked, really looked, at the place he called home. For as long as I could remember, the ramshackle houses had the bowed look of the tired and frail; they were in total disrepair. It was a wonder the wood had outlasted the snows, but it’d take a miracle for them to remain standing after the next winter. Deeply troubled by the implications of my thoughts, I wondered if I had the right to put my life before others.

Shouldn’t I just die?

Trapped by indecision, I hid my raw flesh in the folds of my oversized clothes and didn’t register the villagers assembly. I hardly noticed the small, easily overlooked figure stride through their midst. His confident stride never faltered when the townspeople raised blunted farm instruments and corroded blades. It all made for such a grand, intimidating sight that my thoughts stopped cold.

“Begone, outsider.”

“You’re not welcome here.”

“You’ll leave this place if you know what’s good for you. Leave and never return.”

The threats chilled me to the bone, and I instinctively backed away from what I knew would be a slaughter. I berated himself for thinking foolish, rebellious thoughts and resigned myself to my fate.

For the first time I found solace that the markings of degradation covering my body were in the advanced stages. My body was falling apart at the seams, and it wouldn’t be long before the Spring Festival called for the awakening of a new vessel to take my place.

A shush came over the mob as the Matriarch stepped into the ring and stood before the outsider. “On behalf of my people, I apologize for the inhospitable welcome. But there is some truth in what they say. This land does not take kindly to outsiders. The fact remains that you are a danger to everything we’ve built. I would have you keep to yourself what you saw here once you take your leave of this place,” Cara Knightly said, and all assembled gasped as the Matriarch prostrated herself at the outsider’s feet.

With the cowl still in place, there was no way to gauge any change in the outsiders expression. Time flowed like molasses as the foreigner considered. The townspeople tightened their grips on weapons. With an apologetic sigh, the outsider gripped the Matriarch by her shoulders and helped her rise.

“I apologize to have caused alarm, but I arrived here by mere happenstance and wish no ill will upon you or your people. You see, I’m searching for someone, a person quite dear to my heart. There’s surely nothing left to be found, but I haven’t been able to settle down— these restless legs of mine won’t let me.” The travel spoke in an ambiguous tone; I was uncertain whether they were a man or a woman.

“An admirable quest, that, and I know I speak for my people of Altressor when I wish you luck in finding that which you seek. However… we cannot in good conscience let you leave… not tonight at least… and not in such a sorry state!” The Matriarch smiled invitingly, “A few harsh winters won’t make Altressor fall so low that it fails to provide a wayward traveler with the warmth of our hospitality.”

A hacking cough broke the fragile peace and the villagers went rigid. Swords were loosened in their scabbards as archers casually brushed the fletchings of their arrows. Women and men alike posed seductively— a ruse to hide the palming of knives and other instruments of death. The Matriarch cut through the rising hostility and dispelled the bloodlust without uttering a single word.

“Though it may be unprecedented, this outsider will be treated as the blood of our blood, the flesh of our flesh. The Spring Festival is something to be enjoyed by all, and so it shall.” There was an ominous pause and the shuffling of feet, everyone knew the Spring Festival wasn’t due for at least a week. “Splendid! Let us set about our appointed tasks, shall we? There’s no time to waste!” Knightly clapped and the muted complaints were replaced by a flurry of movement.

I stared in awe at the village head, which stood in stark comparison to the surge of hopelessness that rose within me. Just like that, I’d run out of time. My attempts at gaining a sympathetic group among the villagers had utterly failed. Appealing to the human heart? Moronic. Add to that my incurable illness and I wondered why I’d ever thought myself a match for the Matriarch.

I cursed the cancerous naivety in my heart, cursed my desperate desire to be accepted. Then I cursed some more, making a point to wrap up by cursing myself. I was a monster after all.

While I’d been distracted by pointless thoughts of my own inadequacy, Michelle and Helga had penned me in. They locked arms with me, giggling unconvincingly while they hopped, skipped, and jumped— eventually they resorted to dragging me towards Altressor’s most holy place: my dungeon. I didn’t struggle much, but the idea of enclosed spaces had always gave me the jitters. I shivered as my wardens ushered him back into captivity.

“Beg pardon, misses. I know it’s rather presumptuous of me to ask, but might I steal this child away for a time? It appears everyone else is occupied with the preparations, and I’d hate to impose more than I already have.”

My heart was in my throat in spite of my supposed resignation to fate. My wardens weren’t going to let their charge free, but I also doubted they’d want to appear suspicious. Helga debated the impossible conundrum, head in hands and eyes squinted shut.

“That’s—” Was that sympathy in her eyes? “— a splendid idea! Go on now, get— and be sure not to stray too far afield. It wouldn’t do for you attend the festival in that state,” Michelle said, looking at my dirty clothes less like the warden she was and more like a concerned mother.

Michelle had the presence of mind to recognize the danger of denying their guest such a simple request. By the time Helga had driven herself half-mad, I had already taken the traveler by the hand and made off like a rabbit fleeing from a fox. Helga was speechless, but she deferred to her superior without protest and went on ahead.

“Don’t stray too far, you hear?” Michelle called after me.

I would be dead before sunrise, so why was I smiling? “I won’t, promise!”

I spouted nonsense digested from idle talk I’d overheard. Unable to ignore the villagers rushing to and fro in preparation for the impromptu festival, I found myself falling silent more and more often. My chattering stopped altogether when I bumped into my companion and his cowl slipped.

No matter how quick the man was, he couldn’t hide the ill-natured scowl he cast upon the villagers. “We should go back, don't you think? I would have you show me that holy place of yours before we’re swept away.”

I stared blankly; I hadn’t a clue what had roused such unbridled hatred in the man. I swung my feet restlessly. Splashing the others had been a mere afterthought, my mind bent and twisted like a stubborn reed devoted to unraveling the mysterious motives of our uninvited guest. What kind of man was prepared to slaughter every man, woman, and child that stood in his way? Why had his words been so out of sync with the rigid lines of his body?

“Why don’t we go for a dip first? I’m sure eager to wash off the day’s grime,” I said with a mischievous grin.

The traveler shook his head; he had this far-away look in his eyes that made my soul reach out in response. “Do as you please, but don’t involve me in any petty rebellions.”

I shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

I dunked my head under, reveling in the shock of cold water. I whipped my head out from under the water violently, which suited my aim of splashing the outsider with their fair share of the chilly liquid. Soaked through and shivering, I almost betrayed myself by returning to the altar to scrounge up a change of clothes.

Determined to suffer in silence, I gripped my braid in one hand and squeezed to rid myself of the cold. I sat on the cold granite of the fountain and absently braided my hair while the outsider took in Altressor and examined its inhabitants. I laid back and leisurely admired the rainbows shimmering among the clouds. I hummed a thoughtless tune under my breath.

“For someone who says they’re in a hurry to find something, you sure don’t look it,” I said offhandedly.

The outsider scratched his stubble unconsciously before taking hold of the offending hand by the wrist and pulling it back down to his waist. “My travels take me to places that most would consider fanciful. Best suited for fairytales, they say. Those who suspend belief long enough to listen… often times they are the ones that cast aside common knowledge and seek out their own truths.”

The outsider stretched arthritically, groaning like an invalid as several joints popped at once and they hopped spryly to their feet. I cocked my head and followed the jerky movement with my body. My lips puckered from the strain of keeping my objections bottled up inside.

“Well…? Spit it out!”

“That’s… so lame! Everyone knows there can only be one truth. Nothing would make sense otherwise.” My shock of white hair stood on end, and so too did my pride.

“Witness the evidence of those who forced a group to adhere to the same truths… Asked to live the same lie day in and day out, is it any wonder when the heart seeks its own answers? No one truth is absolute, and none should be allowed to prevail over another— that’s simple tyranny. An inevitable twisting of the mind awaits those who lose the lodestone that guides the heart to peace. You see, it’s those festering hearts that sow chaos with half-truths, with misplaced justice and wrongful claims that the ends justify the means.”

“People are staring— best we be on our way,” I said, and at this at least the outsider seemed to agree.

Their jaunt around the village was cut short by the enticing smell of cooking meat. Unused to partaking of such delicious offerings, I followed my nose and ogled the slab of meat spitted over a blazing bonfire. A few guarded stares were cast at the outsider, but the townspeople appeared openly disgusted to have me invade their space. With nervous speed, I tore off hunk of steaming meat and disappeared to a dark corner to devour my spoils.

“Out of curiosity, would you slaughter every man, woman and child here so that you might escape their torment forevermore?”

I started. I would’ve bolted like a wild animal if I hadn’t been held in place by an incomprehensible strength. “I don’t want anyone to die if that’s what you mean.”

“There’s no need to be coy. I’ve seen this impossible abundance before, and the price of excess carries quite a price when the burden rests on the shoulders of a single child. Your kind are few and far between, and, quite frankly, you’re wasted as a martyr.”

I wasn’t convinced. I didn’t know anything about this outsider. On the other hand, Altressor had been my home for as long as I could remember. Although I wasn’t treated like the rest of the children, my treasure horde more than made up for it. Faced with trusting a stranger unwilling to reveal their identity and an entire village structure built to sustain my existence… it wasn’t much of a decision.

“You’re not convinced. That’s understandable. Unfortunately, that means I’ll cede my argument to the good people of Altressor. They should be just about done with their preparations…”

The outsider rose from a squatting position beside him and stepped into the ring of fire. Altressor abounded with revelry; I crept closer to hear the villagers take up a lilting song.

Ring-a-round the rosie,

A pocket full of posies,

Ashes! Ashes!

We all fall down.

I clamped down on my mouth to keep from screaming. Too little to late, I saw the bonfire for what it was. A squealing babe torn from its mother drove the final nail into my proverbial coffin. Altressor was fed up with its incompetent god and wasn’t willing to wait for a miracle.

Tonight was the night the shame of my birth would be erased. None would mourn my passing. The Sixth would fall and the Seventh would rise. Another innocent would be burdened by the crushing expectation of working miracles. Altressor would enter a new age of peace and prosperity. With or without me, time would march on as it always had… and nothing would change.

“You’re the only one who can stop this. Come on, you can do this!” I gave himself a pep talk and finished by slapping my cheeks to spur himself onward.

I straightened my back and strode towards the fire, grim purpose guiding me. The mental image of my ashes spirited away by the wind imbued me with an unnatural calm and steeled my nerves.

The Matriarch caught on fast. “Stop Six! Move, fools, do it now!”

The villagers were hypnotized. Dazed and confused, none of them moved to carry out the orders of the village head. A timid confidence grew in my breast at the sight.

Fifteen paces. My skin blistered from the heat. Ten paces. The ring broke to admit me; my pores weeped reddish-black and waves of heat made breathing a practice in futility. Five paces. My reaching fingers nearly caught the dancing flames; my skin charred like an overcooked roast and the scent of burning hair filled my nostrils. As I threw himself bodily into the air at the hungry bonfire, I regretted: I had accumulated too few regrets, never known love or loss, failed to find a cause worth championing or adventured into the unknown… had I lived at all?