The Tale of the Daughters of Zan

Ella Zander raced down the nearly empty hallways of Pemberley, her eyes glued to the ground as she concentrated on the rhythm of each footfall. One foot after another, at last, she reached the door to her homeroom classroom.

Had the gods answered her prayers, she wouldn’t be here, but alas, such embarrassment was a common challenge for every tween.

“Breathe Ella, Breathe!” she mumbled to herself.

Ella was not an average tween; her mature demeanor resembled that of an adult, thanks to her mother’s efforts to expose her to the world. But no amount of worldly exposure could prepare her for a room full of tweens eager to parade her entrance through laughter and mockery.

“Breathe,” Ella repeated as she reached for the door handle, palms sweaty.

“Ella!”

Ella tensed at the unexpected sound of her name. Next to her stood Ms. Allen, head turned towards her, a look of concern plastered on her forehead.

Suddenly, the snapshots of yesterday's events washed over her.

A rehearsal. A tween, the last to walk down the pathway and up the stage to accept a phantom paper, followed by chatter and laughter as she passed. A teacher’s embrace and a jacket fastened around her. She was steered off the stage, toward the nearest entrance of the school, to a restroom, where she struggled to make sense of what had unfolded. The cotton jacket knotted around her covered a scarlet splotch on her pale rose shorts—the mark of her menarche, and the reason for the hushed exchanges and chuckles. Her heartbeat echoed her unspoken plea for the earth to open up and swallow her whole.

Unfortunately, the world hadn’t offered such an escape. Here she was a day later, her hand awkwardly suspended above the door handle.

“Ah. Hello, Ms. Allen,” Ella fumbled.

“Uh, here” she squeaked as she pushed the borrowed jacket toward her, and conveyed that the garment had been thoroughly washed and good as new.

To Ella’s comfort, Ms. Allen held back any words of encouragement and offered only a nod of support before she began to gather the stray papers and trash from the now-empty hallway.

Oh, how she dreaded the next three days. Just three more days and the school year would be over. She just needed to walk up a stage, shake a few hands, and accept an ornate parchment. She could manage that. What happened at the rehearsal yesterday would be forgotten. She hoped.

After another deep breath, Ella pulled down the door lever and pushed the door open to her homeroom classroom. Heads turned toward her, but she acknowledged only Mr. K. A buzz of chatter enveloped her as she dragged her numb legs to her seat at the back of the room.

As the day progressed, Ella’s dreadful fears of the expected mockery from her classmates proved to be unfounded. Sure, there were murmurs about her, but her classmates, even those she never spoke to, showed concern and shut down any snarky comments or laughter.

After school, Ella was welcomed home to the warm aroma of fresh-baked bread and savory shakshuka.

“Smells wonderful, Ma,” Ella remarked as she nestled her head on her mother’s shoulder.

“Honey, almost done. Do you want to eat now or after a shower?” Ella’s mother asked.

“Shower. A very cold shower,” Ella commented.

The cold shower washed away the leftover knots from the unexpectedly warm day. The corners of her mouth turned upward at the unforeseen turn of events as she took her seat at the table.

“A good day?” Ella’s mother asked.

Ella hadn’t told her mother of yesterday's dreadful ordeal. As a market analyst, Mondays were arduous, and she often returned home after Ella was fast asleep. Yesterday was just the same, except for the blockbuster replay of events that haunted her dreams and kept her up through the sun’s ascent. Even now, the memory was hard to swallow, but the comfort from her teachers and peers helped ease her embarrassment.

Ella recounted the events to her mother: how she walked toward the stage, the murmurs and chuckles that followed and Ms. Allen’s jacket. The gym clothes she hadn’t taken home yet and her clumsy placement of a pad.

“Today wasn’t bad though, everyone was really thoughtful.” Ella concluded.

Her mother, Esther began to ask, “you got your pe—” but swallowed her words, unable to speak. She was markedly shaken, mouth agape, as though the words were stolen from her. Ella expected her mother to feel for her and console her, but she only stood up. “We need to go.” She breathed, "Get your camper bag.”

Ella was frozen and perplexed at the sudden request to go somewhere.

“We need to see someone. Please, Ella. Get your bag and meet me at the car.” Her mother repeated resolutely.

Her mother’s plea and the look she gave left Ella unable to ask any more. Ella nodded slowly and got her camper bag.

After the move to Pemberley Creek a year ago, they camped on Mount Zalla once a month—a small pleasure that brought a sense of comfort. Before that, the two were adventurous travelers on the road. Ella was educated by her mother, and the small RV they called home had been a remarkable part of her early years. Ella loved the newness of each day on the road, but a chance upon her mother’s old photos from her youth and Pemberley Creek sparked a zeal to attend school, meet peers of her own age, and learn about her mother’s former home. As always her mother took her requests to heart, enrolled her at Pemberley, and shared the places and people that shaped her youth. Though Ella was troubled by her mother’s tense demeanor, she felt a warmth spread through her at the thought of the tenderness her peers had shown her.

After a few hours, Esther drove them up Mount Zalla, past the usual spot they camped at. By Sunset, the road ended, and Ella and Esther began to walk.

The trek was serene, the breeze and the song of nature was a gentle lullaby, but the strangeness of the matter and Ella’s concern overshadowed any sense of peace.

Eventually, her mother suggested a break; they sat on a rock and munched on the recently baked bread, now cold. The barely eaten shakshuka was but an old memory.

“Honey,” Esther began, “when you were upset yesterday, what was your deepest want? Was there a want you spoke aloud?” She probed.

‘My want?’ Ella pondered. “Well… the whole ordeal was just uncomfortable.” She told her mother of the embarrassment that coursed through her, how she ran and fell on her way home. As she knelt on the ground, her body burned everywhere, hot tears escaped her eyes and for a moment she desperately wanted to be gone, to cease to be. She had only muttered the words to herself.

Esther embraced her daughter. “Sorry you had to go through that on your own, my love.”

Ella was concerned about her mother, who was clearly aghast, even now, but as always, her mother's hug was warm and gentle.

Esther fought back tears and worry. “You aren’t gone,” she choked out through sobs.

“Mom?” Ella broke the embrace to look at her mother.

“You wanted to cease to be.” Esther stated a matter of factly.

“Just for a moment.” Ella consoled. “The rehearsal was awful, but today was really pleasant. Who would have thought an awkward moment could lead to such a fond memory?” She reassured her mother that she was okay and that yesterday’s events no longer bothered her.

“Yes, you are okay. You are here. A want and a Wanter endure and fade together.” Her mother noted more to herself than to Ella.

Esther thought she would never have to tell her daughter that part of her ancestry. When she made the pact a decade ago, the elders had told her Ella would never come of age; her want connected them. But now, she feared what would happen to her daughter.

“Honey,” Esther started, her tone unsteady, “has the way people spoke today felt strange to you?”

The day was strange enough, and Ella felt an oddness to everyone’s speech, even to her own words. She couldn’t name the problem, but she sensed an anomaly.

“Ella,” Esther paused. “Your want was granted.”

What was granted? She thought.

“You wanted to cease to be,” Esther repeated, “but a want and the Wanter can only be, together. Your want would have meant your end, but that would defy the rules. So, your want was construed but granted nonetheless,” she elaborated. “You are here, but we, the daughters of Zan, vaguely remember the lost letter of the alphabet.”

A letter. A letter was absent? A letter that connected thought and soul was gone. Was that the reason for the unusual struggle to express herself today?

“Zan,” Ella mouthed, barely a murmur. “A want … rules.” Ella was utterly confused.

Esther tenderly stroked her daughter's cheek.

“We are daughters of an old lore called Zan,” Esther spoke softly, “granted one want when we come of age. The only rules: the want cannot create or destroy nature, and the want and the Wanter endure and fade together.”

Ella was baffled by her mothers account of an ancestry she never spoke of, yet she felt the truth resonate throughout her body. The letter, unknown to her, was forgotten—save a fragment, clear as day but just out of reach, that alluded to her want.

Her murmur of a want changed many languages.

Ella swallowed. “So, we need to restore the letter. That’s why we’re here?” she asked.

A cool breeze swept over them, and Esther gazed up at the dark sky above.

Ella wanted to ask more, but her mother packed up the leftover bread and the trek resumed.

At the twelfth hour, when the crescent moon was above them, Esther’s pace slowed at last.

They stood before the entrance of a cave.

Esther breathed deeply and took her daughter’s hand. Her eyes met Ella’s for a moment, and Ella felt a torrent of heartache. Though she had no clue about the matter, the way her mother looked at her seemed to be a farewell.

“Mom, why—” Ella started to ask and Esther pulled her toward the cave.

Darkness. That was all they could see. Had she closed her eyes or were they open, Ella couldn’t tell. Moments later, ethereal glows emanated from the stone walls around them. Ella was shocked as the dark cavern transformed to a resplendent spectacle. They had entered a cave, but they were now surrounded by a lush garden. Nestled among a plethora of trees and shrubs was a body of water. Large rocks were scattered throughout, aglow between the cracks.

Esther removed her shoes, prompted Ella to do the same, and led her down the steps towards the water. The water was cool and mundane, yet Ella felt an otherworldly presence. When they reached the center of the pool, they ascended a boulder. Esther knelt and beckoned her daughter to accompany her. Just then, a cool breeze swept past them, and the colossal stones around them glowed anew.

“Ancestors,” Esther called out. “Your descendants seek counsel. Lend me your knowledge to protect my daughter.”

The breeze grew stronger, and a cascade of colors emerged from the cracks along the stones around them to form a spectral cloud that resembled a nebula.

The cloud moved around Esther and Ella.

“Your daughter?” Ella was startled by the query that came from the cloud. A phantom? She wondered.

The cloud grazed Ella’s cheek and brushed over her chest. “What do we have here?”

Though Ella was wary, she was entranced by the stellar cloud that floated around her.

“Yes,” the cloud mused. “Your daughter.”

“She has come of age.” Esther blurted, her tone marked by fear.

The nebula creature proceeded to move around Ella, clearly enraptured by her, just as she was by the stellar form.

After a few moments, the cloud responded. “The threads of her borrowed years and those of Zan appear to be tangled. Seems the old ones are no longer needed, and bound to be severed.”

“What does that mean?” Esther pressed, desperate for answers and help. But, there was no response.

“Ancestors. Please, save my daughter.”

“Save?” the cloud chuckled. “My dear, your daughter’s fate was once connected to yours, but now, the threads of Zan want her.”

The cloud turned to Ella. “Daughter of Zan. You are bestowed boundless wants. But remember, every want feeds on the Wanter.”

“Boundless wants?” Ella mouthed, her eyebrows furrowed as she looked at her mother.

“She can undo her former want?” Esther asked, full of hope.

“Should she have a profound want to reverse the change, then the letter shall return,” the cloud answered and turned toward Esther. “You haven’t passed on the legacy of Zan. We never expected the young one to be able to enter our realm here, so you are not at fault. However, from now on, you must teach her about her past and her roots.”

“Of course,” Esther choked back her sobs. Now that she knew her daughter’s future was not shackled to hers, Esther felt a wave of joy and release. Her daughter could reach adulthood, love, and grow old.

The cloud moved closer to Esther and enveloped her.

“We do not know why the threads of Zan chose your daughter. Perhaps they found her worthy.” Then, the cloud’s tone became soft and warm, and only Esther could hear the words. “My dearest daughter, you are no longer bound to your want, but the years you exchanged cannot be recovered. May Zan bless the both of you. Make the most of your days as you have always done. The youngster has grown well.”

The cloud caressed Esther's face, “Come on now, you shouldn’t cry at such a joyous moment.”

Ella reached for her mother’s hand and gave a gentle squeeze. Ella had yet to grasp what a daughter of Zan, borrowed years, a want, or a Wanter meant. She knew there was a lot she would need to hear from her mother, for now she was grateful that her mother was no longer troubled by her former concerns.

Yesterday's restlessness and the eventful day had caught up to her. Sleep, enveloped by her mother’s embrace beneath the starry sky, was all she wanted.