5. Evangeline

5

EVANGELINE

" J ust a stupid superstition."

I say it trying to convince myself, part of me knowing that I'm deluding myself with my safety, and part of me knowing that I'm deluding myself with my idle fantasies. In my mind, both are simultaneously true, as I try to understand the sense of foreboding that takes hold of my skeptical mind.

The warnings are nothing more than fairy tales. I know that. Renee should know that too.

They're just idle stories designed to scare children, to keep them from wandering into the forests.

Yet some of the elders believe them truly. It's proof that age does not always guarantee wisdom.

I'm only relieved that upon my return home, I am greeted not with idle stares or foreboding omens, but with everyday life. I never thought the mundane would seem so appealing.

It's a life I've grown accustomed to, but not necessarily one I care for.

Still, at every stray utterance, my ears perk up.

A coarse, wintry chill blows through the village, causing me to shiver slightly. I'm glad to be back home, and not out in the unforgiving wilderness. Many have died from far more agreeable cold weather.

I know that I can trust Renee, or rather my gut tells me I can. She'd never go out of her way to harm me, right?

I remember her stern, disapproving gaze, and it makes me chuckle to myself. I probably shouldn't mess with her, but there's something so funny about how she reacts to every inconvenience—how utterly humorless she can be.

I shuffle through the settlement and project an air of confidence to contradict my growing unease, greeting Jeb with a smile. He's always helped me out with work and is quick to offer a joke when he sees a frown on anybody's face.

His head turns toward me, and he scowls.

My heart sinks suddenly.

It's haunting. I never imagined his face could even form such an unpleasant expression.

Without elaborating, he turns his head the other way, huddling close to his wife Cecilia.

That's weird.

In my mind, I delude myself again, thinking perhaps he's just having an off day.

But I recognize that face. It isn't stress etched into his features, it is loathing.

I feel depression start to take hold at being so casually rejected, then try to smile at Idel, the town butcher, whose butcher knife is still bloody on her holster. Out of kindness and a desire to grow her business, she used to offer me free samples. I can still taste the succulent texture of the braised taura.

She murmurs something under her breath as she passes. I either don't hear it, or I shut it out. She turns her shoulders toward me and proceeds to walk in the opposite direction without so much as another word.

What's going on?

Rather suddenly, the tone of my very home has shifted dramatically. Now I swear I'm not imagining it. The very people I once considered my family are eyeing me with suspicion, unease, and hatred.

"Evangeline."

I turn, seeing Ephemera, whose stiff and tall posture always lends her a sense of arrogance. She reminds me of the dark elves but in human form. I often imagine her pulling off a hat, revealing a pair of elf ears and a twisted proclivity for magic. It would make far too much sense.

Her presence is far from comforting. As the council's messenger, her arrival never precedes good news.

"You're wanted by the council," she says curtly, her gaze piercing through me.

Before I can fully react, she turns her back to me, indifferent to my response. She's already done her job.

"Okay," I say uncertainly, surprised to hear my voice come out at all. "Just let me get changed."

"Follow."

In spite of my rugged, unkempt appearance, I don't dare protest. Ignoring a council summons alone is cause for exile.

She leads, her long, flowing emerald gown almost undulating in the wind. Her hooked fingers are stiff at her side, her wavy blonde hair falling elegantly over her shoulders.

She looks out of place in this settlement.

As I follow, I catch the uneasy glances one last time. I expect to find kindness, ambivalence… even sympathy in their faces. At this point, I can no longer deny what this is about.

But there are no human emotions among passersby on the way to the council. There is only a desire for punishment—a cruelty unlike anything I've ever known.

I don't attempt to make conversation with Ephemera on the way. There's nothing I can say to ease this inexplicable tension.

Surely, they can't be serious about this urban legend?

"The council will meet with you inside," she says, gesturing to a familiar, dimly lit door. The knocker on the large door is the head of a batlaz, flanked on both sides by flickering candles. Ephemera pushes the door open, and I feel my feet become lead weights, pushing me deeper and deeper into the hardwood floor.

I step inside, my throat parched. I don't know if I can even speak.

I'll just explain myself. It was a harmless prank. I'm sure they'll understand that.

As I walk forward toward the podium, feeling the enormity of this very small room, I look at the elders, whose faces are marked by severity and focus.

"Welcome, Evangeline," Harold says, his long, bushy beard drooping onto the table.

His tone is far more cordial than I'm expecting. Perhaps this is entirely unrelated to what happened in the forest.

"Thank you," I say, hearing my voice crack unexpectedly.

For a solid minute, Jeremiah rifles through papers on the table. I wonder if there's anything written on the papers, or if he's just projecting an appearance.

"You were out in the wilderness today with your friend Renee, were you not?"

I'm surprised to see Hilda speaking. I struggle to think of a single word Hilda has ever spoken to me.

"Well, I don't know if I'd consider Renee a friend, but that's accurate."

I feel my knees trembling, the intensity of the candle smells filling my nostrils and becoming a focus in this dim room.

I just need to project an air of confidence. I'm innocent. If I know that, then they will too.

"I see," Hilda says.

She turns to the four other elders with a raised eyebrow. Jeremiah sets the papers back down on the table.

"And what were you doing out there," Polyn asks, his spectacles reflecting the candle flames.

I gulp and take a deep breath.

"I was fulfilling my assignment. Searching for valuable resources as tasked."

Even from here, I can see Jeremiah's hands shaking, his eyebrows contorted into a scowl.

"And just when did ‘gathering valuable resources' mean ‘summoning an ancient evil you can't control?'" Jeremiah asks, his voice wavering. "What gave you the right!"

Hilda clears her throat. Jeremiah leans back in his seat.

I feel a genuine fear crest over me, now more real than ever.

I struggle to find my voice, realizing that this meeting is not innocuous. I'm currently on trial.

"Look," I say, noticing the distress among the elders. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it."

Polyn nods. Jeremiah rolls his eyes.

With every breath and every word, I feel myself digging my grave.

"It was just meant to be a harmless joke," I say.

"A harmless joke?"

Jeremiah chuckles to himself, madness present in his voice.

"You scared your dear friend Renee?—"

"She's not my friend," I attempt to interject, finding myself shouting in spite of myself.

"—half to death. She came to us justifiably terrified!"

Hilda nods.

"You are being awfully cavalier about this," she says, though I still sense some disapproval toward Jeremiah's emotional outcry.

"I didn't mean to terrify her. I thought it might be funny because she said she wasn't superstitious."

Jeremiah shakes his head.

"You didn't just go out into the forest and play a prank. The way Renee described it, you reenacted a ritual with details our texts don't even go into. There's a reason we don't let that information fall into common hands."

I feel my jaw clench.

"It's dangerous," he says.

"The way Miss Renee described it, it was almost as if you were possessed," Polyn says. "And those are her words, not mine."

"It was very concerning to hear," Harold agrees.

I feel myself shaking my head.

"I'm trying to tell you that I wasn't doing anything at all," I say, feeling that perhaps if I rephrase the same thing a slightly different way, it might somehow convince them. "You're saying I had inside knowledge I shouldn't have had? But I couldn't have known anything more than what you've told us in fairy tales and urban legends. The rest of it was me goofing around."

I'm relieved when they don't interject, and I think I see them deliberating over my words.

It's just a misunderstanding.

This isn't a big deal.

Their murmurs hang heavy on the air among the crackling of flames. Conspicuously, Tully hasn't said anything this entire session, her head pressed down on her hands in contemplation.

As their faces grow less severe, I begin to feel a weight lifting off of me. Relief coasts over me, and the goosebumps on my arms fade, my breath relaxing.

"We've reached a decision," Harold says.

I smile, glad that Harold will be delivering the good news rather than one of the more severe members of the council.

"And what have you decided?"

"Don't interrupt me," Harold says harshly, staring at me with increased coldness.

I can feel the floor falling out from beneath me. I feel myself sinking, helpless to watch myself in my own skin.

"While you might have felt your offense pardonable, and while you might have thought that despite all of our warnings, and all the stories we've told you since childhood, the summoning ritual was nothing more than a prank…"

Harold stops for breath, picking up a spare sheet of parchment and reading from it for a moment.

"And while I'm deeply, deeply sorry that it's come to this," he continues. "We feel that your indifferent attitude to our customs, and your cruel treatment of your peers, is cause for alarm and needs to be addressed."

I shake my head chuckling, looking from one member of the council to the next. Their faces are all now hard as stone. Gone is the hospitality I received earlier.

"And how do you plan on addressing that?" I ask, terrified by the answer I might receive.

A sick smile crosses Jeremiah's face. The other elders look at him, as though they've rehearsed this.

"Evangeline, you're to be cast out of the village immediately," he says. "You are not allowed to return, under any circumstances, no matter how exceptional. Leave by sundown, or we will make you leave."