The Warning

“The three of them,” something inside me breaks. “They just stood there-”

“Lee, calm down-”

“24 days,” I remember the way the man had spoken with fear. “24 days! They’re coming-”

“Hey, calm down-”

“The three of them. 24 days,” I wrench my arms from Mira’s grasp and fiercely run my fingers through my hair. “Oh my gosh!” I moan, “24 days, 24 days-”

“Harley!”

Mira called me by my full name.

I look up into his dark, hazel eyes to find confusion, fear, and hurt. He takes my wrists and envelopes my hands with his.

“Mira, the three of them. 24 days.”

He shakes his head, his lips drawn tight. “I don’t understand.”

“Mira, they’re coming.”

Again, the defeated shake of his head. “Who’s coming?” He presses.

“The three of them,” a wave of panic threatens to constrict around me so I say quickly, “home.”

“Huh?”

“24 days. Us. Home. The three of them.”

“I can’t do this Lee, I’m sorry-”

“Mira, we can’t go back,” it’s the first full sentence I’ve spoken since my vision at The Calling, and I tell myself that if anyone will understand me, it’s Mira.

Mira furrows his brow, studying my eyes, “Harley, you really should see someone.”

It’s like a punch to the gut. I pull my hands from Mira’s, crossing my shaky arms across my chest, I wrench my eyes away from his, trying to hide my tears. They all think I’m delusional. It’s because of the incident with Lanoe, I tell myself lies. Last year at The Calling, a young 16-year-old boy walked into the dense fog, into the forest that calls your name and tells you your future. He had walked in only to come out different. He went insane, really. The Lords knew not of what to do with the boy and after supposedly murdering his aunt, they devised to end his life the next day. But he was just a boy, an idiot, who thought it was funny to see what the Lords would do if anyone had an actual vision. His vision was fake. It wasn’t real.

“It’s happened in the past,” I urge myself to look back at the young man in front of me, “Lanoe’s vision wasn’t real,” I take a shaky breath, “But this is real.”

Mira doesn’t react. He just stands there, breathing heavily.

“This,” I take his hands again, “this is real.”

“Us?”

“Yeah-”

“But you can’t expect me to believe-”

“Believe what?” I challenge.

I dare you to say it. I dare you.

“You.”

Mira has decided.

I blink, a tear dribbling down my cheek. I feel it stop at the edge of my chin then drop onto my sleeve. I look down at Mira’s hands, and my own. Having felt so strong about us, it hurts me to know what I have to do.

“Mira,” I plead, “is that your final decision?”

I look up and watch his pained expression.

“The Lords, my parents and my family-”

“After everything?” After the civil war? After the Halal Virus killed my sisters and brothers?

“Harley.”

“Mira.”

He tilts his head, “Please don’t do this.”

I don’t apologize because I’m not sorry.

Silence settles over us, and I realize the square has never been this quiet. Normally shopkeepers call out in the streets from their carts, selling gifts and souvenirs. Normally the civilians of Pliycor pack the cobbled streets of the square, buying the freshest produce and the newest clothes. The rich, like Mira, would come in on carts drawn by beautiful stallions from the city of Pliycor, where the country had originated, only to be split into seven smaller communities and one large city. The week days of Pliycor’s communities were always the busiest, the rich folk spilling into the squares and buying all of our products, forcing us to make more for the next week. It pangs me to know that once my family was wealthy, and maybe we could have afforded the treatment for my siblings when they fell ill of the Halal Virus.

Mira makes a choking noise and I look back at him, his mouth open. He wants to say something.

“Your final decision?”

“Yes.”

I don’t pull my hands from his, not yet anyways because even though we are done, I have to warn him, “They’ll surround the city for 24 days, anyone who flees back to the city will be killed, anyone in the city will be tortured until they die.”

“Harley, stop-”

“The three spirits, Félelem, Harag, and Bánat will send our enemy’s armies there. They’ll lead them, Mira.”

“Do you even know what you’re saying?”

“You can’t go back for 24 days.”

“Lee, come on. Are you even hearing yourself? You aren’t being rational!”

“Mira, it’s true.”

“No.”

I didn’t want to believe it either, I want to say. Still, not being able to even understand it, the news drives me to insanity, to panic attacks and shaking fits. I replay the events from The Calling in my head.

“Harley Kahale,” the Lords had spoken. “Please step forward,”

The ritual had taken place six days ago. I remember rising from the wooden platform, walking down the beautiful stone steps, each carved with the events from every year of the history of Pliycor. I remember picking up the skirts of my white dress when my bare feet felt the damp coolness of the earth. I remember the smell of the fresh air and how it had felt on my skin, and I remember the feeling of the eyes of my community, glued to my back.

The Lords had then urged me forward, “May the call set you free.”

Before walking through the thick fog into the mystified forest, there was a split second where I had felt fearful. I was terrified of what I would hear and what I would see in the forest. To be honest I was most afraid of not hearing anything because I felt that I deserved more, and that’s what gave me the courage to take that first step forward.

After my body had been enveloped in the icy dampness of the white fog I had been relieved to see the forest to be the same as the forest that surrounds our community. Just trees and shrubs with thorns. There was a clearing, though, where I had walked in through the fog and I remember the claustrophobic feeling when I saw how the trees of the forest stretched up high, each trunk almost touching the other. It was almost like the forest didn’t want us to run off. It wanted us to hear its voice, and it wanted me to warn the others of the spirit's intentions.

The spirits had never caused the people of Pliycor harm before. They were harmless beings who would occasionally haunt the streets and dreams of children, but they’ve never killed. And, to kill the people who live in the city of Pliycor, the most successful country in the world? It doesn’t make sense, and I think that’s what scares me the most.

“The people of the city must have commited a crime,” I say, “So you can’t go back, Mira because you live there.”

Mira’s parents wanted him to go to The Calling, something the citizens of the city don’t have to do, but they wanted to start a tradition with their family. So, they sent Mira to the seventh community of Pliycor to stay with my family for the duration of my teen years so that he could grow and give his spirit to the forest when he turned sixteen.

“Harley-”

I watch his pained expression and how he wants to believe me. I end our time together with one word, “Okay.”