Remember Me

It’s been too long since Myla had heard someone say her name. Ever since a group of inexperienced young witches unleashed literal hell on earth, seeking refuge in an abandoned cabin in the woods had been the only sensible means of survival. It was a lonely life, but at least she was alive. Not that she could say the same for most of the people she had known.

Unless they were already a witch, most of the human population had fallen to the demons. Going into the cities had become dangerous, even for the witches who understood protection wards. All it took was for a demon to know the person’s name. Once possession happened, it was all over for most. Humans looking for safety would foolishly give the creatures their names, only to be torn to shreds from the inside out as the demon slowly overpowered their human meat suit. The bodies would eventually give out, leaving the terror to bounce to the next fool who would give up their name. Witches went into hiding, with only the bravest ones becoming hunters.

Most witches had turned to covens for protection in the beginning. At first, Myla had thought the same; safety in numbers seemed logical. But, after a few short months, the demons had found the loophole. Witches were hiding their non-witch loved ones within the covens, only for those loved ones to be possessed, allowing the demons to infiltrate the covens, killing hundreds of witches who had given their names to their covens, believing themselves to be secure. Myla had watched her coven disintegrate before her eyes when the demons had made their way into her hunting group. She and just a handful of others narrowly escaped, given that they had used false names.

Stepping outside of her cabin, Myla takes a deep breath. The air had never smelled so clean. She ventured down a small trail in the woods, leading her down to her gardens in a large, open field. Vegetables and berries grew along one side of the garden, grain and herbs along the opposite side. The garden had become the source of her sanity, caring for the plants, preserving the food in jars that she occasionally salvaged from the city. Herbs were dried along the walls of her cabin, put away for later use. Myla walked among the rows, pruning dead leaves as she went, occasionally picking berries or beans and popping them into her hungry mouth.

Rounding into the next row, Myla pauses. Something had come through the field, flattening herbs and breaking branches as they’d presumably rushed through the area. Myla tentatively follows the trail, her heart racing at what she might find. Then, beyond the rows of mugwort, a trail of blood starts to show itself in the underbrush. Again, she pauses, taking out a small vial of bat’s blood ink and a small brush, marking herself with protection runes before edging her way down the flattened path.

“Who’s there?” Myla freezes. She looks around her, searching for the source of the raspy voice that spoke out to her. Then, lowering herself to the ground, she begins lifting the branches of the mugwort, peeking underneath it. She spots a person lying in the grass, taking slow, shuddering breaths. Myla raises herself into a crouch, slowly stepping toward them.

“Are you a demon?” she asks, cautiously parting the large bushes and stepping between them. A woman looks up at her from the ground, her eyes full of fear and pain as she looks up into Myla’s eyes. The woman shakes her head, pulling her sleeve up to show a rune carved into her skin. Myla pulls her sleeve up as well, showing the runes she’d just marked as well. The strange woman visibly relaxes, closing her eyes for a moment.

“What happened to you?” Myla asks, kneeling to the woman’s side. The woman groans as Myla sits her up. Her arms wrapped tightly around her midsection before leaning into Myla.

“I was possessed. The demon, it broke into my home before it eviscerated its host, found my name. I didn’t think I could be possessed. I have sigils tattooed all over me.” Myla freezes, her eyes wide as she looks at the person in front of her.

“You escaped possession? How?” she demands, staring down the woman. She points to her arm.

“Blood magick, with salt in the wounds. The sigils were what kept me present in my body. I spent days fighting the demon as it slowly destroyed me. I fought it off for long enough to carve the rune and rub black salt into it. Not an enjoyable experience; I don’t recommend it.” Myla pulls the woman’s arm closer to her face, seeing the salt crusted along the ridges of the wound. Pulling out her vial of bat’s blood ink, she traces the wounds with it. The woman gasps, the wound stinging her.

“I’m sorry. I needed to make sure there isn’t still a demon inside you.” The woman nods, tears streaking down her face.

“I understand. I’d do the same. What can I call you? You can call me Jupiter.” she says, grasping onto Myla’s hand. She gives Jupiter a small smile, pulling a bottle of water from her pack, lifting it to Jupiter’s lips.

“Planet name, huh? Let’s see. You can call me Mars.” Myla says, giving Jupiter a warm smile. The cool water dribbles down her chin, and she chuckles a little. After a few moments, Myla moves to slip her arm around Jupiter to pick her up. Jupiter pushes back, shaking her head.

“Don’t. Please don’t waste your energy. I’m not going to make it.” Myla looks at her, shaking her head, again reaching to lift her.

“You can’t give up! How do you know you’re going to die? Maybe I have something in the house to help you,” she says, frustrated that Jupiter won’t accept her help. Jupiter brushes Myla’s hands away, lifting her shirt to show her the bruising covering her torso.

“Mars, unless you have some way to cure internal bleeding with herbs and crystals, I doubt I’ll make it another two days. I came here because I smelled the mugwort, and I knew the demons wouldn’t bother searching me out here.” She smiles at Myla, her breathing becoming labored. She reaches behind her neck, unclasping her necklace, holding it out to Myla. Dangling from the chain is a heart-shaped locket. Myla takes the locket, opening the heart. Inside there’s a protective rune engraved into the silver. There’s a name engraved on the other side, Beverly. Myla glances up.

“Is this your name?” she asks, to which Jupiter nods. She wraps her fingers into Myla’s hand, squeezing tight. She looks back towards the path that Myla originally came taken to enter the garden.

“I hear water. Is that the cliff out there?” Myla nods, tears stinging her eyes. “I want you to keep that locket. It’s kept me safe this long, and I think maybe the reason I was able to maintain any control. Wear it. Use my name to protect yourself. But most of all… Remember me. I want to still be alive in someone’s memory when I die. My family is already gone.” Myla clasps the locket around her neck, memorizing the details of Beverly’s face; the sapphire blue of her eyes, the gray streaks that ran through her auburn hair. She studied the lines of her face, the crow’s feet and smile lines entrenched in her skin.

“I don’t know anything about you,” Myla says, wiping her face. Beverly smiles, waving a hand gingerly through the air.

“You know that I love the smell of mugwort. You know I fought to escape the possession of a demon, so you know I am strong. You have the power of my name. Do you know that it means “beaver stream”? I love the water. And you know that once you leave, I’m going to drag myself from this spot, and I’m going to leap from that cliff with all the strength I have so that my life ends by my own choice. That’s plenty to build a story with, don’t you think? Tell yourself stories about me. That’s plenty for me.” She says, smiling at Myla. Beverly waves her away, gesturing for her to go back to the cabin. Myla sniffles, then leans forward, wrapping Beverly into a gentle hug.

“Are you sure you don’t want my help? You shouldn’t be alone, not when you have the option not to be.” Beverly chuckles, shaking her head.

“This is the way I should go. If a demon comes back for me, I don’t want you in the crossfire. Otherwise, who will remember me?” she asks with a pained grin. Myla giggles a little, fidgeting with the locket.

“Now I know you’re stubborn, too. But so am I. Let me at least bring you to the cliff. I won’t take no for an answer.” Beverly grins, sitting up. She extends a hand.

“Do you have a blade with you? Give me the blade, then go to the cabin. I’ll see you before I go.” She says, accepting the blade that Myla pulls from her bag. Myla stands, turning towards the trail.

“Do you promise that you’ll come by?” Myla asks. Beverly chuckles, cutting branches from the mugwort plants around her.

“I promise. Now, go. I’ll see you soon.” Beverly tells her, dismissing her with a wave of her hand. Myla starts the trek back, pausing to pick some basil leaves, then heading back to the cabin to wait.

Hours go by as Myla waits in the cabin, keeping an eye on the path. Eventually, she hears the rustling of the trees as Beverly walks up the trail, leaning on trees. In her hand, she carries Myla’s knife and a green wreath of mugwort branches. Myla rushes to her side, guiding her to the edge of the cliff. Beverly hands the blade back, then places the mugwort wreath on Myla’s head as a crown. Before looking out into the crashing waves, she hugs Myla tight, a sad smile on her face.

“It’s been a blessing to know you, Mars. Keep fighting. Remember me.” Without another moment, she thrusts herself forward, jumping from the edge of the cliff. Myla begins to sob, watching as Beverly splashes into the water.