“My name is Nalah Everlasting, daughter of Yem. I mean no disrespect. I’m here to see my love, Malik Sewell.”
She waited for a sign. A few moments later, a black cat appeared from behind one of the tombstones. The luckiest of omens. Nalah smiled and opened the gate.
Walking down the path to Malik’s grave, she passed many of the Elders with their unique tombstones. Many were marked with plates, old clocks, or other special objects for blood kin to easily locate them.
Malik’s grave was marked by an obelisk. Nalah would have chosen differently, but she hadn’t been Malik’s wife. Without that official title, she had no claim to his burial rites. She touched the engraved symbols of his Council family crest and traced his name lovingly as the tears fell.
As she wiped her eyes, she glanced around the cemetery to see if she was the only living person among the spirits. When she confirmed that she was, she flipped over a large rock near Malik’s grave. Underneath it was a shallow hole, and Nalah retrieved a cloth bag. She unknotted the twine and took a sniff. The strong odor confirmed the winnow’s reed and sapelo pepper had grown in potency. Three days ago, she had ground the pepper to a fine powder in the cemetery. Her eyes had watered as the seeds released their essence into the air. The black seeds of the winnow’s reed had been harder to grind, the tough shell difficult to crack. Nalah had covered her exertion with mournful cries so that if anyone had heard and came looking, they would only see a young girl crying over a grave.
Nalah would dust the shed skin of the Boo Hag with this spice mix. The sapelo pepper would do the job quickly enough, but Nalah knew the witch was strong. Nalah was too heavy with child and would be no match. It was the reason she had added the winnow’s reed. It was a known soothing agent and would slow down the pepper’s properties. Enough time for Nalah to escape.
No longer a foolish girl, Nalah had been vigilant and mindful in this preparation. It was a dangerous task with little room for mistakes, but she had no choice but to proceed.
Six months ago, a Boo Hag had arrived on Samara Island. In her reign of terror, the witch had taken eight spirits. Malik Sewell had been one of them.
Nalah lay down in front of his grave. The baby kicked again, and she shed more tears. Malik’s body now decayed in the ground, his spirit stolen, his soul perished. The pain of her loss was always present, sunken deep into her bones. Malik was gone, but she had made a vow, and the time had come.
She was going to kill the Boo Hag tonight.
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
Malik Sewell had been born in the new world but learned the old ways. He could operate the material printer in the underground compound, but he could also weave a net and catch the biggest croakers.
Despite living on opposite sides of Samara Island, Malik hadn’t been a stranger to Nalah. She would see him at school and at the weekly market. She watched from afar, curious about the scrawny, light-skinned boy who would come to Carlitta Beach to learn the casting net technique from the Belle Hammock fishermen.
Unlike the other Shell Bluff children, Malik didn’t look down on her. Nalah had told him that she welcomed the new ways of technology, but she also wanted to honor the old ways that had been practiced on the island for centuries.
Malik became a friend and confidant. As they grew up together, it became a tradition to go out on his boat in the darkness, snake down the Turpentine River, and venture out into the ocean. They would watch the moonrise and meteors streak across the sky, all within safe distance of the Veil, the starlight making it shimmer like a pearlescent mirror.
Nalah couldn’t remember when their friendship had turned into something more. The feelings had been so gradual but also inevitable.
One night, they lay in Malik’s boat and he pointed to a moving object that they both knew was a satellite. A relic created before the Cataclysm.
“In the archives, I read they built these ships on the Mainland. Huge ships that ran on fuel and flew up into the atmosphere and into space,” he said.
Nalah had also read those same archives. It had been one of the many marvels of the Mainland. But that was before the war known as the Cataclysm. Before the mushroom cloud had appeared in the sky almost two centuries ago. In the aftermath, the scientists from the Mainland created twelve guilds and forged a new beginning on Samara Island. As years passed, the scientists melded with the island lineages, and a different world emerged. Three powerful families from Shell Bluff created the Council, along with new sacred laws.
Nalah stared at the Veil, watching it undulate and pulse as if alive with its own spirit. The Elders had told the story of its appearance. Many years after the Cataclysm, the mysterious mist had surrounded the island. The Elemental Guild had determined the Veil wasn’t harmful, but navigational drones could never find landmass beyond it. Nalah wondered if anything or anyone was left beyond its pale tendrils. She wondered if her father had ventured past the thick mist, or if he was forever lost, unable to return. The Council no longer sent scouting parties into the Veil, claiming the excursions were too dangerous.
“Do you think the Mainland still exists?” Nalah asked.
“I don’t know,” Malik said. “But you shouldn’t worry about what lies beyond the Veil. All that matters is that we’re together.”
Malik took her hand and placed it over his heart. Nalah felt it beat rapidly beneath her fingers, making her own pulse quicken. He slowly put his hand over her heart, which was soft and warm. Their heartbeats synced into a frantic rhythm. Nalah’s face flushed as Malik drew closer. She could see him in the moon’s glow, the boy she had known for most of her life.
Nalah parted her lips as Malik kissed her gently. He slowly pulled away and watched for her reaction. She drew him back close. He kissed her again, deeper this time, and her stomach fluttered like a thousand butterflies had taken flight. Malik whispered her name, his voice velvet in her ear. The third kiss sparked a tingle that moved down her neck to her torso and low below her navel. She never wanted to stop kissing him. She never wanted to stop feeling the light he brought into her.
Malik Sewell was her sun.
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
Although Nalah and Malik were fully in love and had claimed each other, they still had to get their union blessed. It was one of Samara Island’s sacred laws. All unions had to be approved by the Council.
They had stood in front of Sula Church. Nalah wore a radiant yellow dress and strapped boots. Her mother had oiled and braided her hair, and it shimmered in the sun. Malik was somber in all black, his hair cut low and edged with his Council family crest. His high-collared tunic hid the birthmark that reminded Nalah of a tiny fiddler crab.
Although her skin was still chilled from the icy air of the rover-car, Nalah didn’t rub her arms for warmth. Instead she grabbed and squeezed Malik’s hand.
When they entered the sanctuary of the church, three men sat at the Judgment Table. One representative from each Council family. John Resby, the High Elder, sat in the middle, and the bulge of his belly strained against his purple tunic. Silas Sewell and William Barnette sat on either side of him, both in red tunics.