Child of First Light

 “What’s wrong?” the wind whispered as it touched Ilara’s flushed cheeks. She covered them with her hands as the wind continued to chatter, blowing harder at the patch of bare skin between her pants and socks. She pulled up her socks and pulled her knees into her chest, shielding as much of her skin away from the wind as possible. Still, it spoke. “Would you like another message from the heavens?” the wind laughed as it slipped through her sealed knees and puffed onto her face. 

“No, no more messages. Why speak now of all times.” Ilara tried to tune the wind out but to no avail. Nature was always the most chatty during the Last Light. Perhaps if she listened less to the raindrops and soil, and more to the whispers in her hall she wouldn’t have found herself in her burial chamber.

“Perhaps, you want to exit then?” the wind said. “After all, I managed to get in.” Ilara looked at the slab of ice that they placed 20 feet above her, thick and strong, but uneven. A small crack revealed itself on the left where the ice was thinner. That’s how this particular breeze got in. 

“It is dark up there now, isn’t it?” she sighed.

“Why yes,” the wind hissed. “Though, you have never spoken to Lady Night have you? They protected you from her, haven't they Child of First Light.” Ilara wanted to cry, but she no longer had the stamina. What she thought was her greatest blessing had become her downfall. 

Ilara was born during the first light after the 9-month dark winter. She was one of many Nyxian children born that day, except for her the timing of her birth was special. The nurse who attended her birth liked to share the story frequently. She boasted about how as she plucked Ilara from her mother’s womb, light seemed to shine off her newborn body before reaching the sky. She was born at the exact moment of First Light. A moment that would mark the beginning of the 3-month summer. When the light would shine bright until the Last Light. Her birth had marked her as a vessel for the spirits that governed Nyx. Spirits that had slowly lost the devotion of the people they protected. She was born with the blessing of communicating with them. The rain spirit would offer advice, the sun spirit would invigorate her with strength and the wind spirit would make her laugh. She enjoyed talking to the spirits, but they were fickle creatures and only spoke to her on their terms. It was rather ironic now that she thought about it. She was born with the blessings of the spirits and would die holding the wishes of her people, but she was perhaps the loneliest Nyxian to have ever lived. 

10 years ago 

“Priestess, please provide us salvation.” the man cried clutching to his young daughter, who could not have been much younger than Ilara. Although it was difficult to discern. At age 8, Ilara had received the best rations in all of Nyx. She looked much bigger than most children a few years her senior. Ilara looked at the girl in front of her with her sunken cheeks and her bony arms that hung like deadweights at her side. She then looked back to Master Eira who nodded, motioning Ilara to continue. 

“The Child of First Light will grant you blessings. “ declared Master Eira. An attendant handed Ilara a collection of items on a large silver tray. On it were flowers, a chalice of water, a whistle, a lit candle, and blue opal stones. These were supposed to be conduits that the spirits could use to communicate with her. Ilara closed her eyes and listened as she was instructed by her tutors to do. She waited for the spirits to say something to her, but no words came. She looked back at Master Eira, who clenched his jaw and shook his head. She sighed and pointed to the water. 

“The priestess has heard your prayer and has blessed this water.” Master Eira grabbed the chalice off the tray and handed it to the man. “Have you and your daughter drink this, and the heavens will help your stomachs be full even in famine." The man sighed gratefully before lifting the chalice to his daughter’s mouth and helping her swallow. When she drank all that she was able to, the man tipped the chalice up to his lips and drank with great urgency, smiling as he made sure to drink every last drop.

“Thank you, priestess.'' The man came forward and bowed down at Ilara’s feet. When he got up he met Ilara's gaze with a look of reverence that made her feel sick.

“You are now dismissed.” Master Eira said flatly. Ilara’s eyes followed the man as he left with his daughter in his arms, feeling her heart sink.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Ilara told Master Eira. “I cannot hear things like that. The spirits choose when they want to speak to me.”

“It is of no matter,” he reassured her, “This is not about truth, it is about hope. People can choose to save themselves, they just deny themself the chance. It is what we provide to them.”

“Then am I truly blessed? What would prevent someone from taking my place?” she said. He grumbled to himself before softening his expression.

“You are our light, and our miracle.” He caressed her cheek. “Do not forget the power you hold. You are the daughter of the spirits."

“But I haven't even spoken to Nyx.” Nyx was the spirit of night and darkness, the ruling spirit of the people. The spirit they named their land after. She was the only spirit to have not lost her sway over people. Not out of love, but out of fear. When people faced 9-month darkness, not putting an offering out to Nyx was like inviting death into the home. 

"We need to protect you from her, that is why this temple has been built underground. So Nyx and her darkness cannot get to the Child of First Light." he scolded.

"She is not evil, the other spirits speak highly of her."

"Why of course. They cannot speak badly of the spirit that governs them, but that does not mean it is the truth. Priestess, I suggest you drop this discussion. Your tutors have told me you have been behind on your studies and now I see why. Do you need a reminder of what punishment awaits you if you neglect your duties?" Ilara inhaled sharply and shook her head. “Good. Now, let us rest.” Master Eira closed the door behind him leaving Ilara alone in the candlelight.

Ilara was not permitted to leave the temple’s halls in the winter. When darkness fell over Nyx, shades were thrown up above ground and Ilara was instructed to remain below where she would be safe. She would retreat into her own dark corners, the ones unoccupied by the spirit of Nyx. She hated the long winters trapped inside. It was lonely. At least in the summer, she had the trees and streams to talk to. In winter, there was nothing but silence. The spirits did not like using potted plants for conduits. She longed for company but didn’t know of what kind. Master Eira was built like stone and her tutors didn’t like discussions they deemed unnecessary. When she was permitted leave from her duties, she would lose herself in her mind, conjuring up images of the summer that she could one day turn to.

These past few summers had not been as delightful as the ones of her early childhood. Her attendants kept a close eye. Although she was allowed to converse and commune with the spirits in nature, the temple felt even icier than normal. She would hear Master Eira shout in the night, but the sound was too muffled for her to make out what he said. Her tutors stopped coming one by one and she was left with an abundance of free time. Those days, she was forced to make an unusually large number of visits to the public square where she would dress in white and be paraded around in a palanquin. 

As she got closer to people, the spirits seemed to recoil. They would not answer her questions, or provide her insight on what was to come. In the end, it was only the wind spirit that spoke to her. 

“Be warned,” is all it said. The sound echoed in her halls. If she had listened, perhaps she would have grown suspicious of the large feasts that occurred several nights in a row. If she had listened, perhaps she could have done something before Master Eira woke her up by sticking a handful of white powder in her mouth and sealing it in with his own hands. She tried to fight against it, but as the powder touched her tongue she felt her body go numb and her eyelids fall heavy. To the outside world, it looked like sleep, but Ilara remained conscious. Screaming inside her head, where no one, not even the spirits could hear her.

“Watch, as the child of first light comes of age. Her sacrifice will bring prosperity to us all. May this winter leave us with full bellies. Those who have made donations to support the temple shall be blessed the most by the Child of First Light. It is not too late to do so.” Master Eira declared to the public square. Ilara could not open her eyes, or move her mouth. Even though she could hear what was going on around her, only every other word was understood. The rest faded before they could reach the blank canvas of her mind. The powder that Master Eira gave her was steadily pulling her closer to death's door. 

“Now let us continue the sacrifice. On this day of Last Light, the Child of First Light will reclaim her place among the spirits. ” Master Eira said. Ilara felt cold metal draw blood from her neck before the crowd erupted in horror. 

“Do not desecrate the priestess’ body.” One woman shouted. Master Eira let Ilara go, the blood trickled down her neck, but the bleeding stopped quickly. The public whispered among themselves and soon there was uproar in the square. 

"Yes, our priestess deserves our respect. Otherwise, Nyx will have our heads." an elderly man added. The crowd behind him cheered in agreement.

“Very well,” said Master Eira. “We shall leave her in the mountains. We will fill her burial ground with food and gold so that when her spirit form awakens, she can bring these as gifts to Nyx herself.” They moved Ilara’s body and arranged her so that her arms were folded across her chest. The mountains were cold, even in summer so it was easy to find an ice slab large enough to close her chamber. Ilara lay like that for hours. Her fingers grew purple and a few lost feeling completely. She was not dressed for this cold. Her cotton-white dress left her arms and ankles exposed. She awoke a hairbreadth away from death. She looked to the sky, which was obstructed by a large slab of ice. Still, she closed her eyes and asked the sun spirit to give her some warmth. When he didn’t answer, she used up the last of her energy to eat the food she was buried with and stuffed her bare legs in the basket it came in.

“Please, please. Let me live,” she asked again. That is when the wind spoke, but its shrill laughter wasn’t the answer she was awaiting. She tried to scale the walls, but the smooth rock and weak arms made it so she could only get a few feet up before slipping back down.

“Having fun?” the wind laughed again. After she had given up, it was still here laughing. The blessing of her birth led straight to her death. She was nothing more than a cosmic joke. A failed project that the spirits would laugh at. In defeat, she threw up the gold chalice she had been buried with only to watch it crack the ice on the weaker side. She threw it again and gathered the other heavy objects. She was growing weary, and with each throw, she could feel the life fading from her.

“One more,” she shouted before throwing up the chalice one last time. Her knees buckled and she toppled to the ground. She then rolled herself onto her back. She watched as the final crack led to the collapse of the ice sheet above her. Around her ice was falling in large shards. A few large spikes fell directly onto her, piercing her leg and abdomen.

She looked up to see the twinkling lights that glittered amongst the darkness. She had never seen such a beautiful sight. 

"Oh my child," Nyx cried. "It's time to come home." Ilara closed her eyes and smiled, allowing the night to take her away.