ekstasis

v

I consider leaving then and there.

I probably should.

But there's Alexei, with that easy smile of his as he languidly fastens the pins on his own robes. There's Emma, perched beside me on the desk, saying something about music and starlight and you're going to love it. And there's the clearing. The fire. The bird.

I don't know what I care about more: figuring out what's happening, or making sure they know that I belong here.

Emma lightly bumps my shoulder, brown eyes sparkling in the low light. "Earth to Sophie. You ready?"

I nod quietly and follow her as we all form a circle—eleven of us in total, with Alexei and Christine in the center. Everyone is wearing the same white robes, draped elegantly across their bodies, but the cords at Alexei and Christine's waists are a rich purple, and their hands are wrapped in delicate metallic thread.

All of the chatter from earlier has dissipated. The room has fallen so silent that even my anxious breath feels like an intrusion.

One by one, Christine hands each of us a candle on a weathered gold tray, and Alexei lights them. They leave me for last. As they wordlessly pass me by, I realize that there are only ten candles.

Christine turns away, and the circle parts as she pads elegantly out of the room and down the hall. Alexei smiles at me, gestures with his head toward the door, then follows her.

I understand and fall in line, all too conscious of the eight others behind me. I think back to years of ballet classes. Back straight. Chin up. Shoulders back. Stand strong, even if you don't feel it.

The march down the stairs, out the door, and across the quad is a solemn one. And I still consider turning back more than once. I'm afraid. Of what I'll find in the forest, of when the kykeon will kick in, of what they all want from me.

But there's a force drawing me forward.

Not in my heart, nor my own limbs. It's more like a thread has been pulled through my cheeks and hips and toes and something is tugging on the loose ends. As my body goes, my mind follows.

It's too late, some part of me recognizes. It has been since I saw them that night, on the lawn. And whatever happens now, I have no choice but to follow it through to the end.

The forest looms heavy and dark around us as we pass by the stone dogs, tongues lolling out the sides of their mouths. The moonlight is too pale to pass through the canopy; the only source of illumination now comes from the candle cupped in my palms, and those of Alexei ahead of me, Daniel behind. The only sound is that of our feet shuffling across soft earth and the incessant hum of crickets.

That much is comforting, at least. I remember the first time I was here, the way that the forest went quiet. As long as the crickets are safe, I can hope that I will be too.

After what feels like ages we reach the bend in the trail, and Christine turns off the path onto the deer trail that I now know for certain is not a deer trail.

I'm not afraid this time, though.

The trees here have pulled apart from one another, allowing the dappled moonlight to spill through and light our way, and somewhere far in the distance, an owl mournfully calls out to us. The crickets still sing; I get the sense that they are following us, a horde of spiny-legged guardians.

The gently arching trees pull away as we enter the clearing, and I stop short. The firepit is gone. Not by way of weather and time, but as if it were never there to begin with. Even in the dim light, I can see that there's no woodpile, no ash or stone, nothing but smooth, damp grass.