Selene Nightshade's Arc

Chapter 2 of 6

The basin still held the moon when Selene turned back to it an hour before dawn. The water had thinned by another shade. She meant to sit beside it every night until the sky went black, guarding the ritual, feeding it what little shape she had. But she had not planned for the pull. Twice already the ground under her own blank headstone had tugged at her heels like wet rope, and she had lost minutes she could not spare. She felt the tug again now. Her feet dragged across the grass toward the row of cracked stones behind the orchard. She fought it and lost. The pull set her down on her knees at the unmarked grave, and she stayed there, useless, while the moon in the basin kept leaking without her. A small voice spoke at her elbow. "You keep coming back because nobody says your name over you." The lost little ghost girl stood in the wilted patch beside the stone, barefoot, hair pale as milk. Behind her, another shape drifted low over the graves, a soft round ghost with tapering edges. "We felt you from the hill," the girl said. "An empty grave calls. It will call every night until it's answered." Selene tried to rise and could not. "I have five nights. I cannot spend them here." The drifting ghost sank closer to the stone. It touched the blank face with a wisp of its edge. "Then let us hold the seat," it said, in a voice like breath on glass. The little girl knelt in the dead flowers and began to arrange them. She pulled the wilted stems upright. She lined smooth pebbles along the grave's edge in a small, careful border, the way a child tends a doll's yard. She set two imagined lanterns at the head. "We'll sit here in your place," she said. "We'll answer when the ground calls. It won't know the difference if someone is here." Selene felt the rope at her heels loosen. Not gone. Loosened. She stood, testing it, and took three steps toward the basin without stumbling. Above the graves, a taller figure formed against the fading moon, pale gown, long hair, eyes fixed on Selene. Lady Moon did not smile this time. She tilted her head once toward the basin, a clear order. Get back to work. Selene ran. She reached the basin as the sky began to gray and pressed both hands into the silver water. Cold climbed to her elbows. The moon in the bowl dimmed another notch under her palms, and above her the real moon dimmed with it. The pull at her back had gone quiet. Two small ghosts sat by her stone, keeping her seat warm. She had bought her nights. She had also bought a debt to the hill, and she did not yet know what the hill would ask for it back.