What exactly did Britta mean when she said, "I am taking her home with me" to the ghosts of her deceased great-granddaughters? Her meant the baby—Linnea Christina Nordlund, daughter of Amy and adopted by Britta.
The answer is quite simple.
After the spirits were freed from the house, the old Swedish witch casted a spell over the house that would bestow a happy, destruction-free existence for its future residents. She had sold everything in the house—furniture, trinkets, china, and the house itself. Everything totaled, plus the price of the house, came up to $4,500,000. Why so much? Because the house was over a century-old and quite extravagant. Also, many of the objects sold were antiques, relics once belonging to previous owners of the house.
By taking the baby "home" with her, she meant to her homeland—Sweden.
She had used a portion of the money she made off selling the house and everything in it to buy a small cottage-like house on the forested outskirts of the town of Orsa. In the spring and summer months, the central part of Sweden was quite lush and green with all sorts of life. In the winter, however, it was very cold and snow blanketed the grass, the streets of town, and the rooftops. Britta knew full well that snow was to be expected, as she had remembered growing up in Sweden so long ago.
Now, young Linnea had that same opportunity to breathe in the cool, crisp air; for her toes to touch the lush grass in summertime; to celebrate Midsömmar with the others in their community; to freely roam and explore the forest all day long only to return home for dinner and spending quality time with her ancestor.
It was when Linnea was four years old that Britta observed the dawn of her personal power—all of the women born in their bloodline possessed their own abilities, but it was during a heavy snowfall that Linnea held out one of her small, bare hands in order to feel the crystallized droplets falling down. As Britta held one of the toddler's mittened hands, she saw a small flurry of ice crystals in a small tornado on the girl's palm.
"What do you have there, sweetie?" the woman asked the little girl, whose gray eyes stared up at her with a giggle.
"I'm cold," she said in her small voice. "I...am cold and made ice."
"Oh, dear…" Britta muttered, seeing Linnea hold up her bare hand to her; the woman took it and giggled proudly. "Oh, you're freezing!"
"I go home now," the little girl said in her high-pitched, childish voice.
"We can go home," Britta replied, "and we'll keep you warm."
That same day, the woman ignited a fire pyrokinetically in the fireplace, already having seated Linnea down with a small cup of hot cocoa. The little girl watched in awe as Britta triggered her formerly-unused power by a flick of her index finger aimed at the fireplace. Then, she saw her take her golden hair loose out of the braid she had created just hours earlier.
"Bribri," the little girl called softly—Bribri was the nickname she herself had given Britta.
"Ja, min älskling?" the woman asked, sitting next to her on the small loveseat stationed in front of the blazing hot hearth.
"You make fire?" she asked.
"Ja," Britta replied, smoothing through the straight, blonde locks on the girl's head.
"Why do I make ice?" the girl asked. "Was the winter making my hand cold?"
"Aw," Britta cooed in a motherly manner. "It wasn't just that, Linnea. You're very special."
"Special?" The girl's piercing, storm-colored eyes stared up at her ancestor as she took a gulp of her lukewarm hot chocolate.
"Ja, very special," the woman said with a closed grin as her green eyes were illuminated by the fire. "Your mamma was born special, your mormor was born special, I was born special, my mamma was born special, and…it goes on and on…"
"We are special," Linnea repeated. "But why?"
"Oh, min älskling," the century-old woman with youthful features said. "We are special for a reason. We were made this way. You are still like the other girls, don't you see?"
"I…I t-think so," the four-year old said.
"You are a very lovely, special girl, Linnea," Britta smiled, wrapping her arm tighter around the little girl's shoulders.
Cryokinesis would not be her only power—by the age of seven, she discovered that she had the power of telekinesis. Britta helped the girl hone this power by telling her to levitate certain objects in their small house ranging in all sizes and functions. The largest thing Britta made her lift with her mind was the desk in the living area; Linnea was successful at the third attempt, and as a result, the woman rewarded her with a trip to town.
The following year, Britta was shocked to learn that Linnea possessed yet another power, but what was so surprising about this one was that it had not shown up in the bloodline for about 700 years—transcendence, or the ability to see and speak to deities and entities. Just as the girl was discovering that she had keen psychic abilities that could be applied alone or with divination, her ability to transcend the physical plane had allowed her to meet the goddesses Frigg, Freyja, and Idunn.
Britta had not possessed that ability herself, but knew and had met the last ancestor to have transcendence. Helga Ulriksdotter, who lived in the Middle Ages, was the last to have the power.
"She lived in the 1300s, and the power actually saved her, min älskling," the woman had said once she swallowed a bite of breakfast down.
"How, Bribri?" the girl had asked, taking a sip of juice to her lips.
"In those days, we were not treated well," Britta continued. "They wanted to tie her to a stake and burn her, but she claimed to have seen God and the angels. They took her word and she was confined to being a nun for the rest of her life."
"Bribri?" Linnea asked. "Who is God? Is he real?"
"It is what you believe in your heart, min älskling," the woman chuckled. "Do I believe? No. I did once, but that was so long ago." She paused, looking down at the girl's exquisitely beautiful face. "What do you believe?"
"I…believe," the girl paused, "that there are many of them."
"Oh?" Britta felt the need to hear an explanation—that was when she found out and knew that Linnea was gifted in that way.
"Because I saw them," she had said chillingly.
Linnea discovered she had healing powers at age eleven—she had healed a wounded rabbit she had found in the forest, taking it indoors much to Britta's dismay.
"It won't hurt you," Linnea said to her ancestor. "It's hurt."
"It could have diseases," Britta said forcefully.
"I feel bad," the girl said. "Please let me help it? I'll let it go after. Just…please?"
It took a moment of hesitation for Britta to agree, watching the fair-haired eleven-year old look at the red-stained white fur of the rabbit. Putting her hand on the wound to see how deep it was, she inadvertently caused it to heal rather fast. Britta watched and gasped, smiling softly as she noticed the grateful rabbit leaning up to sniff at Linnea as soon as the wound had closed.
The girl's love of animals escalated to the point where most of the fauna of the nearby forest took kindly to her presence. During her weekend strolls through the woods, birds would willingly swoop down to perch on her finger; bears were not their vicious selves around her, rabbits hopped toward her; moose did not head butt her with their antlers; hedgehogs wouldn't roll up into protective balls in front of her; deer would willingly lay down on the grass just so she could pat their fur. She was like a maiden from a storybook, and the forest was her escape from the stresses of school and life in general.
By age sixteen, she even looked like one as the flower of young womanhood began to blossom within her. She was very beautiful with a feminine facial structure cut like glass, long, straight flaxen hair that went to below her waist, fair skin the color of alabaster, and piercing gray eyes with dark coronas circling the outer part of the iris. Linnea was thin-figured, much like Britta except she was taller and more filled-out around the hips. Though she was considered eccentric and otherworldly by her peers, Britta was proud that she did well in school, especially in her science and art classes. She also did well in foreign language, being able to speak fluent English and Spanish aside from Swedish as a first language.
It also was during the prime of her youth that she discovered her last power.
One day, Linnea had been freely roaming the forest, the birds singing above her in the tree's leafy canopies. It had been during the late summer and on the brink of the autumnal equinox. It was during the afternoon when she suddenly heard a few gunshots in the distance. Startled, she intuitively sensed something was wrong. At first, she was too afraid to go investigate out of fear that she would be hurt, but if she didn't go, she knew that someone or something would be hurt.
So she went anyway, and was heartbroken by what she saw. It was the sight of two large, stocky men with hunting rifles looking proudly down at two grown brown bears, shot dead and mercilessly.
"I have another one," one of them said in a deep voice. "Do you have your skinning knife, Johann?"
"Oh, förbaskat," the other hunter said. "I must have left it back at camp."
"Well, we're going to have to haul the kill back, then," the first hunter said. "Help me tie the paws up, ja?"
Linnea looked down at the dead bears, trying to hold back tears of grief as she felt herself becoming upset over what they had done. She felt the breeze caressing her face and gently moving the lengthy strands of her blonde hair around as her intense gray eyes fixated on the hunters. Johann, the second hunter, looked back at her and gasped, taking in her unearthly image as her beauty mesmerized him.
"Are you lost?" he asked.
"No, not at all," Linnea replied sadly. "But maybe you are lost."
"We know these woods like the backs of our hands, flicka," the first hunter said, getting the rope ready to tie up the bears to facilitate dragging to the camp he mentioned.
"No!" the girl exclaimed, walking closer to the hunters as she put her hand out. "Don't do that!"
"Why not?"
"This is wrong!" Linnea said tearfully. "All wrong. All rot and black! This will not be forgiven."
"Don't waste our time!" Johann snapped. "We're just trying to make a living."
"A living?" the teenaged girl answered, her eyes focused on the fur of the dead brown bears. "How could you kill an innocent creature? So you can make coats from their furs?" Linnea sniffled, walking over to the fresh carcasses, resting her hands on each and resting her head on one to cry. The two men looked at each other, hearing her tearful continuation; "these bears…d-didn't hurt you. They did nothing wrong to you."
As Linnea continued to boldly grieve over the dead animals, she rubbed their fur and planted a kiss over each of the tops of their heads. Tears streamed continuously from her sad gray eyes, and the skirt of her dress fanned out evenly around her on the ground.
Then she heard the cocking of a handgun.
"I'm surprised the mental hospitals overlooked you," one of them said; Linnea's head jerked up, and she suddenly felt like she was immersed in boiling hot water; a grave too deep to come out of. "You should've stayed away. If you play around with dead things, you'll soon join them."
Linnea closed her eyes, sobbing a few more to herself as she tilted her head backwards to the sky, the hair over her face falling back to her ear. Her eyes didn't look so sad anymore, but they harbored anger and ardent frustration. In fact, she was no longer scared—she just simply was. She was still beautiful enough to enchant them both into staring at her, distracted from the heat of the moment.
"Not all dead," she muttered.
ROAR!
The two hunters looked before them, but before they could notice, the one holding the gun felt jowls ripping into the flesh of where his shoulder met his neck. Linnea jolted back, crawling backwards toward the base of a tree trunk and watching in horror as one of the bears ferociously sprung back to life and charged at the man in order to do so. The man whose throat was being ripped out screamed in agony, vaguely watching the other bear mysteriously come back to life and tear at the other hunter's leg with its mighty jowls. Linnea was intimidated, shutting her eyes and remaining in place as she heard nothing but the sound of crunching bones, oozing flesh, blood splatter, and blood-curdling screams that sounded like they came from a horror movie. Once the terrifying sounds had ended, it was silent—she opened her eyes slowly.
The sound of her heart beating ravenously against the interior of her rib cage and her heavy, labored breathing was all that could be heard. The sight of the earth drenched with blood around the hunters' dead, mutilated bodies nearly made her cry out for help, but then the bears went on all fours again. She tried to calmly stand up to her feet again, but gulped deeply upon seeing one crawl over to her.
"Nei," she whispered, holding her hand out. "D-Do not hurt me, too. I helped you."
The bears continued to approach her, but they didn't seem threatening; Linnea was still nervous, but once she felt its snout sniff at her skirt, she tuned into the animal to find out that it had no malicious intentions whatsoever—it was grateful to the young witch for saving its life, and the other bear soon followed and made itself comfortable on the terrain next to her while nudging its head against her.
"Oh…" she muttered. "I…I am sorry for thinking you were going to hurt me."
One of them made a strange sound, but it was non-threatening.
"They shot you," Linnea said to the bears. "And you came back…you attacked them…" Her eyes fixed on the dead bodies of the hunters, who had begun to attract flies. "It is in your nature to do so. You are free now, bears."
Linnea gave them both a final pat on their furry heads, and the two beasts looked at each other and then to the young witch as she walked forward from the tree.
"You are free to roam, now," she said to them. "Be free. Be in your nature."
The two revived creatures trudged away, and Linnea sighed before taking a look at the dead bodies again, seeing one's throat ripped open and another having bled to death from their injuries. The earth was still drenched with blood, the soil gaining nutrients from the sanguine fluid. Linnea was no longer afraid—but then she heard footsteps and the voice of Britta in the distance.
"Min älskling!" the voice called out—Britta had her shiny, golden blonde hair fastened in a braid that fell over one shoulder, and she wore a black dress with a modest neckline, peter pan-style collar with the same color as the dress, as black hose with plain black shoes. Linnea watched as the woman gasped at the sight of the dead hunters, which were already attracting blow flies, looking at her descendant with concern.
"Herregud!" she exclaimed. "What happened?"
"I can explain—"
"Did they try to hurt you?" the woman asked, approaching her and reaching up to put her small, fragile hands on the sides of her upper arms.
"I…I heard a shot," Linnea replied. "I came over. Two bears were dead. They were hunting. What they did was terrible!"
"Huh?" The youthful old woman was confused.
"Ja, they were hunting, and I told the hunters that they were wrong to kill innocent creatures. The bears did them no harm…then one threatened me with a gun," Linnea continued. "It was strange because I saw both bears come back to live and attack them. And now…" The young witch pointed at the bodies, "they're dead."
"Linnea, they were—"
"Nei, Bribri. I love all of the animals in our forest," the girl interrupted. "To see them die for someone's selfish needs breaks my heart. The bears did what they naturally do. They got back at them. They also saved me from being killed, don't you see? I don't know how they came back to life, but—"
"It was you," Britta said; there was awkward moment of silence, and Linnea looked off into the distance in the direction in which she recalled the bears parting from her towards.
"Me? How?" the girl asked with confusion.
"Some of us had the ability to reach into the realm of the dead and pull back their spirits to revive them here on Earth, you see," the golden-haired witch replied. "Your great-aunt, Eleonora Mortenson, had that power. She was my granddaughter."
"Really?"
"Ja." Britta then turned her peridot-colored eyes toward the bodies. "I wouldn't use that power if I were you. Death is the natural order of things. We live and we die."
Just as Britta was making her way in the direction of their small house, Linnea's contradiction stopped her in her tracks.
"Yet you munch on golden apples so you can be immortal," she said. "How can you consider that to be natural?"
"I already died, and that was a long time ago," Britta answered, turning around to face her descendent. "I have already experienced the natural order of things. Some of us are just lucky to be reborn into something new, something better, and for a purpose often as yet unknown. But…the day you were born, I knew what my purpose was. Your mother died giving birth to you, and I took you in. You are the reason I was brought back from the Other Side. My purpose was to make sure that the future of our line would be safe from harm. You are the future, Linnea."
The girl's piercing gray eyes just stared at her ancestor, but they turned down to her feet as she felt the woman's presence draw nearer. Britta moved the lengthy strand of flaxen hair from Linnea's beautiful face and placed it behind her ear, smiling a closed grin full of pride in her.
"Alright," the old woman with youthful features said. "You know the best way to mastering your powers is by practicing, ja?"
"Ja?" Linnea asked with curious inflection, nodding slightly. Britta looked over at the two dead hunters, eyeing the younger one, named Johann, and looking back up at her descendent.
"Bring him back," she requested.
"What? Britta, you just—" Linnea was cut off, her eyes widened with confusion.
"Bring him back." Her ancestor's tone was slow and demeaning, intimidating the girl to comply and practice her newfound power by saving the one who had bled to death from his injuries. Linnea shrugged and walked over to the corpse, looking over at the older one whose throat had been ripped out.
"There's no hope for the other one," she heard Britta muttered; then the older woman noticed Linnea's nervous hesitation. "Don't be afraid. Do it. You just did it with the bears. Put your hand on him and concentrate. You can heal him after. We will bring him back to the house."
And sure enough, Linnea placed one hand over where the man's heart should have been and the other over his forehead, tilting her head toward the sky and concentrating. Britta watched her, nodding slowly with approval but flinching as the man jolted back to life to breathe laboriously to get the air back in his lungs. Linnea's eyes just widened, having just felt his heart start beating again before taking her hand away instinctively.
"Herregud!" Britta exclaimed. Linnea just stayed silent, looking back at her ancestor before his first words caught her attention.
"Huh? What the…" She saw his dark, deep gaze turn to the older hunter and the puddle of blood around him. "Fader?"
That was his father, Britta thought, cocking a thin eyebrow up as she stared down at the revived hunter. Meanwhile, Linnea looked at him and stared down at him as he rested his head back on the blood-stained earth and whimpered and hissed in pain.
"Ah…ow!" he cried out.
"I didn't like what you did to those poor creatures, but they got away," the girl said. "But this wound…you bled so much, you fainted."
"P-Please help me?" Johann said with anguish, his dark brown eyes fixed on Britta. "Get me to a hospital? Please?"
"The hospital is too far away," Britta protested. "I insist that you come with us. We don't live far from here. We'll be able to help you."
The two helped Johann to their small house, a cabin-style abode that was bigger than an actual cabin but slightly smaller than the average house. It was single-storied with a large room upon entry where there was a kitchenette, a living area, a fireplace, and a dining table all in one area. To the left were doors to a bathroom between two bedrooms, and a linen closet where they kept most of their belongings. Johann was cleaned up before being laid to rest on the loveseat—however, since he was a tall man, it was no easy task for the two to get him comfortable. There was a deep gash in his thigh that resulted from the bear tearing through the flesh and severing a major artery, and Linnea made sure her hands were clean before setting her hands on the wound. The man looked confused, and even expressed it through words.
"Get your hand off it!" he snapped. "It hurts!"
"Shh…" Britta said, putting her finger over her smooth, shapely pink lips. "You want us to help, don't you?"
Linnea took a nod as a signal from her ancestor to begin the healing of his leg. She closed her eyes and concentrated, shutting her eyes and tilting her head back as her pressed her fingers onto the bloody wound. Johann winced a little, biting his tongue before he felt the pain going away. He could feel his flesh growing back like normal, patching itself up with Linnea speeding it along with her powers. There seemed to be a white orb with greenish specks radiating around the wound as it culminated to a fully-healed thigh, and when she took her blood-covered hands away, she immediately ran to the sink to clean them. Johann looked at Britta, who stood by the fireplace with her hands clasped down in front of her, with shock and confusion.
"My leg healed," he said.
"Ja, it did," the old, youthful woman said. "Linnea is a very good person. She has a good heart. She loves all the animals in forest around here, and when you did what you did, you were lucky she didn't leave you to die."
"But my father was killed. Now those beasts are roaming the forest," Johann seethed. Linnea was offended by his comment, turning around as she dried her hands from washing them thoroughly.
"Don't call them beasts," she stated firmly. "They did what they were created to do. It's in their nature, just like it's in your nature to be cruel and heartless."
Johann was struck silent, staring up at her ethereal beauty while not noticing the smirk streaked across Britta's face. He sighed, shaking his head before the young witch could say anything else.
"T-Tack," he muttered. "Tack så mycket." He paused again. "I…also am sorry."
"For killing those poor bears?" Linnea asked, taking a seat on the couch near his newly-healed leg.
"Ja, but also for…offending you," Johann said with worry. "I won't ever hunt again around here." He gulped dryly. "I…I know…oh herregud…you are a witch, aren't you?" Linnea just stared at him blankly as he continued to ramble. "Oh, what have I gotten myself into?"
"Absolutely nothing," Britta said, stepping forward a few paces. "We are as human as you are. We are just gifted, that's all. Linnea healed you. Like I said, she could have just left you to die."
"Ja," Johann said with a nod, reaching his hand up to ruffle his thick brown hair. "Well… tack så mycket. W-What is your name?"
"I am Linnea," the girl said, staring down at him with a colorful expression in her intense gray eyes.
"I'm Johann," he answered.
"Please," Britta said, smiling in a friendly manner. "Stay for dinner. We'd love to have a guest."
"I would but…my wife, she's…expecting me home…and…"
Britta just stared at him, tilting her head to the side slightly with each word he nervously babbled form his mouth. Linnea just stared at him up and down, unaware that her ancestor was coercing him to comply with her will.
"…well, I guess…oh, alright," he smirked. "I'll stay for dinner."
"Good," she said, turning her gaze to her descendent. "Linnea? A word, please?"
Britta and Linnea went off toward the closed bathroom door, and the old, youthful woman's voice was nothing but a voiceless whisper that Johann wouldn't be able to hear as she gave a shocking revelation.
"Ja, Bribri?" she asked.
"That young man is married," Britta explained quietly, "but I feel that your time has come, min älskling."
"I don't understand," Linnea said. "Time for what? I'm only sixteen."
Oh, it isn't coming just yet," her ancestor chuckled. "He will leave his wife for you."
The girl just gasped, her intense eyes widening as she put a hand to where her heart was.
"I…what? Really? How do you know?"
"I just do," Britta said, looking up into her soulful gray eyes as she spoke. "It is important that you keep this bloodline going."
"But aren't there others in Sweden who can do so?" the girl asked anxiously.
"Ja, but they are not aware. They are not as fortunate because they cannot trace their origins back to Eleonora Hansdotter," Britta said. "She bore the most children out of any of us in our bloodline and she is the ancestor of many of the witches left here in Sweden. We are a dying number, min älskling. Not many of us are left. When the day comes that you do marry him, I will be there. When the day comes that you bear your first child, I will be there. I will be there until the end of time for our line. You will never have to worry, Linnea."
She took both of the girl's hands, feeling the veins plump near the surface as she smiled up at her. Linnea wasn't nervous anymore, and had a look to be seeking reassurance.
"Do you mean it?" she girl asked.
"It is a promise," Britta smiled, cupping her descendant's beautiful face cut like a delicate glass sculpture. "A promise for the remainder of my life."
A/N:
Well, we have come to the end of the "series". I can't believe it is finally over, but as I like to say—"out with the old, in with the new". (T_T)
I want to thank EVERYONE for their support these past few months in my writing of Uplift, Red Storm, Abominations, Incubus and this story. I never expected it to be such a big success, but I guess you guys proved me wrong.
Uplift was, without a doubt, the most popular on my Fanfiction account plus the most popular in this series, so THANK YOU EVERYBODY! :D
If you have questions or feedback, leave it in a nice Review!
Thank you everyone! :3 I can't say it enough!