The One Chosen to Die Chapter 08

The One Chosen to Die Chapter 08

My funeral was simple.

The pack built a small cremation platform out of pinewood on the open ground west of the village.

The logs were stacked into a neat, square frame, tidier than any bed I’d ever slept on when I was alive.

Mary took out a white fox fur cloak from the bottom of a chest.

I had seen that cloak before. Kept at the very back of her wardrobe, it was wrapped in cloth, brought out once a year to air.

She had once said it was meant for her own passing, when she would meet her ancestors.

Now she draped it over my body.

The white fur covered my ashen face, the soft collar resting against my chin.

I had never worn anything this fine when I was alive.

Linda tried to help. With reddened eyes, she reached out, wanting to fasten the cloak’s ties.

Mary slapped her hand away.

“You don’t deserve to touch her.”

Her voice wasn’t loud, but every word was like a blade dipped in ice.

Linda’s hand froze midair. Her lips trembled twice before she slowly withdrew and stepped back.

Mary bent down and tied the cloak for me, knot by knot, as if handling something fragile and precious.

There was no moon on the day of the cremation.

The sky was heavy and dark, not a single star in sight.

The wind was strong, making the pinewood platform creak softly, like it was sighing.

My body was placed on the platform, hands folded over my chest, as if I were only asleep.

David stood in front of it, holding a torch.

The flames crackled in the wind, lighting his face in flickers of light and shadow.

His lips trembled, and his hands trembled. His whole body shook like the last leaf clinging to a branch in

fall.

He held the torch for a long time, unable to set it down.

Mary stood behind him, reached out, and snatched the torch from his hand in one clean motion, without

a hint of hesitation.

She walked to the pile of pinewood and thrust the torch into it.

Oil had been poured over the wood. The fire leaped up instantly.

Orange flames came alive, licking over my body, swallowing the white fox fur cloak.

The firelight illuminated the entire clearing.

Linda let out a scream and lunged toward the flames as if her heart had been ripped out.

Two she-wolves from the pack reacted quickly, grabbing her from both sides.

She struggled, her nails clawing at the air, crying heartbroken.

“Clara! Clara! Mom was wrong! Come back! Come back!”

David dropped to his knees again, smashing his forehead against the ground.

The stone was already smeared with his blood. As if he couldn’t feel the pain, he kept striking it again and again, muttering over and over, “Clara… Clara…”

My sister stood nearby.

She didn’t cry, watching as the flames consumed my body.

The ash drifted up like fireflies, scattering into the night wind.

Her face was expressionless, but there was no light in her eyes, like two dried wells.

Above her head, I saw that the blood-red countdown was gone.

I froze for a moment, then smiled.

So that was it. My death hadn’t been completely meaningless.

At least when I died, I took the witch’s prophecy with me.

My sister survived. She could live a long and good life.

Mary crouched down, using a piece of cloth to shield her hand, and carefully gathered my remaining

ashes into an urn, bit by bit.

She was meticulous, not letting even the smallest fragment fall.

Linda and David kneeled on the ground, clinging to each other, their bodies shaking with sobs.

Mary stood up with the urn and turned to leave.

“Mom!” Linda rushed forward, grabbing her leg.

“Please leave Clara here. Please…

“We’ll build her a grave and visit her every day. We’ll make it up to her…”

David crawled over, too, kneeling in front of Mary. Blood and tears mixed on his face, smearing it completely.

“Mom, Clara is our daughter. You can’t take her away…”

Mary looked down at them kneeling at her feet.

“There’s no need for that,” she said. Her voice wasn’t loud, but every word was unmistakably clear.

“Clara is dead, by your hands. For the rest of your lives, you’ll owe her a debt you can never repay.”

Linda’s sobs caught in her throat.

David opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Bella stood in the empty clearing where the fire had died out. At last, she crouched down, buried her face

in her knees, and cried silently.

Mary held the urn, turning and walking into the heavy night.