As I pulled myself out of the forest and onto the road, the Myling began to fidget impatiently on my back, chattering words that I couldn’t understand.
I didn’t know what time it was, but it was late. The houses were dark, save for only one or two that still had lights shining from the upstairs windows. On the opposite side of the road, the Skogkanten Kro stood silent and lifeless. Facing it, rising up into the sky, its bright white paint standing out in the darkness, was the church.
The weight of the Myling had grown so intense that I could no longer crawl on hands and knees but was now crushed flat against the rough surface of the road.
Centimetre by slow centimetre I pulled myself on, struggling as arms and elbows rubbed raw against the rough, abrasive tarmac under me. My boots scraped on the ground as they propelled me towards the white gates of the church and up the gravel path which led to the small graveyard around the back of the building.
“Ja! Ja! Ja!” The voice on my back began to repeat the words excitedly.
As my eyes rose up towards the dark shapes of the headstones, the rain suddenly stopped and a crack appeared in the dark clouds. A small copse of trees seemed to shine a brilliant silver as the light from the full moon spilled through the thick clouds.
“In there, in those trees?” I muttered the words more to myself than to anyone in particular.
“Ja! Ja! Ja!” The Myling repeated again, jumping up and down on my back. Each jump knocked the air from my lungs and left me gasping for breath.
Summoning the last of my strength, I pulled myself off the path and towards the shimmering trees.
As I hauled myself in amongst the low, gnarled and twisted birch trees, the weight of the Myling suddenly seemed less.
The smell of damp earth and rotting leaves rose up from the ground, replacing the stench of the Myling, who now leapt from my back onto the ground beside me.
Something else was different here too. Hushed whispers drifted out from the trees surrounding me. The voice of a man and a woman.
“My sweet, Kirsten. We’re sorry, we’re so very sorry.” The words coming like wind in the leaves of the trees.
A tear trickled down my cheek as a sudden and profound sense of sorrow washed over me. Not just the sorrow at losing my own family but a sorrow for all those who had lost theirs. A vision swam before my eyes, a woman looked up at me. A young woman, her red, tear stained eyes meeting mine. An understanding passed between us before she faded away, replaced by another vision. A small baby, lying alone on the side of the lake, frozen among the ice and the snow.
“Dig! Dig!” The Myling hissed, white eyes fixed on me, lips pulled back into a hideous snarl.
A slow sigh slipped from my mouth as I drove my hands into the soft earth. Handful after handful I shovelled out, barely able to see what I was doing through the tears that blurred my vision.
Deeper and deeper I dug down into the cold earth. My nails were broken and bleeding, my hands raw and torn. Deeper, until finally I had carved out a hole that was big enough for the Myling to lie in. Slowly standing and stepping backwards I looked at her.
Little more than a shadow in the pale moonlight, I watched as she silently climbed into the hole.
“Bury me!” Her rusty voice grated once more.
Bending down, I scooped up the loose earth into my hands and began to throw it into the hole. Handful by handful, I covered the Myling’s body, filled in the grave that I had just dug for her, until a mound of disturbed earth was all that was visible of Kirsten’s final resting place.
My heart was still torn by the loss of my own family but somewhere inside of myself I hoped that Kirsten would now find peace.
Taking a deep breath, I took a step to leave…
I felt something grab my ankle in a hard, icy grip. A hand bursting from the freshly dug grave.
A frantic scream erupted from me as I tried to fight it, tried desperately to kick it away. It held tightly, pulling me, pulling me down into the cold ground.
First to my ankles, I sank into the ground, then to my knees, then to my waist. I could no longer kick, the earth pressed firmly around me. My fists pounded on the ground as I slid down deeper to my chest and then my shoulders began to sink under. Soil tumbled into my mouth, silencing my frenzied cry. Soil entered my nostrils, my lungs screaming for air that I could no longer breathe. It stung my eyes, pressed down on my skull as I sank down.
My chest burnt, screaming for oxygen. Bright lights flashed around me and then silence.
Darkness.
A freezing wind blew over the waters of the Sorgvannet but the ripples that skittered across its surface weren’t caused by that wind. In its depths something lurked.
Two childlike figures broke the surface of the lake. A boy and a girl, twins, once children but children no longer. Slowly the mylings shambled forward, out of the water and onto the banks of the lake. White, milky eyes stared lifelessly from their pale, pallid faces. Dark, dank hair hung down as their lips drew back into a sharp toothed snarl.
The Children of the Sky never truly rest in peace.