Chapter 1 ~ A grave in the nowhere of nature

It was her birthday. She had been looking forward to it so much. But instead of baking the promised cake together with her family, it was the second worst day of her life so far. The worst day had been two days ago – on that sunny Monday, her father had died and her world had suddenly become darker. Her mother seemed to suffocate from her tears, and if it hadn't been for her grandmother, who had held the little girl in her arms, she would have jumped into the river that cut the landscape behind her family's house, she was grieving that much. She hadn't left her bed since. Neither hunger nor her grandmother's soothing words could get her to leave her room. Being alone had been good for her; she could thus talk to her father without listening ears. Because she was sure that her father was with her – the warmth on her skin despite the darkened room could only be because of his ghostly presence around her.

But if she had known that his funeral was to take place two days later, on her birthday, and that, due to her condition, she wasn't allowed to attend it and to bury his earthly body to say goodbye, she would have swallowed her grief and played the strong little girl she normally was.

Instead, she was still in her room, wearing her finest dress and her little round shoulder bag. Her mother had told her in a tearful voice, but without allowing any objections, that the neighbor would look after her while she and grandma were at the funeral. She had known that there was no point in getting loud. But after she had heard the front door close, anger had come. A blind, ice-cold rage that took all her restraint away from her and to which all her beloved pillows fell victim. Amidst softly swirling white feathers, she threw herself onto her bed, sobbing loudly and pressing her hands to her chest – where her heart wouldn't stop pounding painfully.

How could she live without her father? He had been everything to her! At that moment, she didn't care about the world around her; she cried and cried until her eyes were all swollen. At some point she noticed how she got tired. But she didn't want to sleep, because in her sleep the nightmares would come and she would see her father die again and again. No! She didn't want to relive that under any circumstances. With all her thoughts, all her energy, she wished herself far away. Away from her room, the desolate house and the neighbor, who hadn't come up once to check on her.

Trying to lessen the pain, her body bent into the fetal position, and with closed eyes, she repeated over and over again that she wanted to be somewhere else. This mantra demanded her full attention as it seemed to take on a life of its own in her head.

After a felt eternity, she began to feel strange, as if she was floating. Gentle wind was caressing her hair. But due to her heartache, she found no strength to wonder about it. Only when the floating feeling subsided and she was suddenly tickled in her face and on her naked arms and legs did it wake her up from her lethargy. Not very ladylike she pulled up the snot that was trying to escape her nose and slowly sat up. Her jaw literally fell down at the sight her eyes gave her. She was no longer in her room! The little girl was lying in an endless sea of grass gently swinging in a warm wind.

Absent-mindedly, with her left hand, she began stroking carefully over the grass which, because of the glowing evening light, shimmered in fine colors. At the same time, she looked around herself.

"Hello?"

Her voice sounded weak and speaking hurt, the hours of crying having dried out her throat. But as she slowly stood up and wondered what had happened, euphoria began to spread within her. Her eyes began to glow joyfully and a laugh escaped her throat. Hesitantly at first, but then her laughter became louder. Deep inside, she knew she was supposed to be scared – after all, she had no idea where she was! And this mixture of controversial feelings made her a little hysterical. But it also confirmed something that her father had always told her as a bedtime story. In his stories, his little girl had always been a witch who could ride on broomsticks and talk to flowers.

With her arms outstretched, she began to spin quickly in circles around herself and laughed into the wide plain.

"Do you see, Papa? I really am a witch. Just look what I can do."

Like a young fawn she then jumped around and pretended to fly. Her legs carried her further and further and she barely felt the stones she sometimes stepped on and that brought her some nasty scratches. It was a really wonderful landscape; gentle hills rose here and there, and the lush grass grew as far as her eye could see. Isolated trees broke through the picture and rose majestically into the sky.

The girl didn't know how long she was going on like this, but the longer she jumped and wandered through the tall grass, a warm feeling awakened in her chest that she hadn't know before. It made her curious, for when she stroked her hand over the part of her skin where her heart was, the feeling seemed to intensify and pull her in a certain direction. It almost seemed to her that there was something inside her that was alive. For when she playfully turned in the opposite direction and took a step away from wherever that feeling wanted to guide her, it suddenly disappeared. This sudden emptiness almost took her breath away and tears came back to her eyes. Quickly, she turned around again to where the feeling seemed to lead her and sighed in relief when she felt this strange warm spark within once more.

Child... Come...

When not only the warmth spread pleasantly in her chest, lying on her grief like a soft veil and numbing her, but she seemed to hear the breath of a soft voice, her eyes widened. Who or what was that? She couldn't identify what that voice was – male? Female? Could this perhaps be her papa? Had he awakened her powers to bring her here?

"Papa?"

With quick steps she ran off again, carefully taking note to where that invisible voice, that somehow was connected to the warmth inside her, was calling her.

Yes, child... Come...

"Papa, is that you? I'm coming, Papa! Wait for me!"

With a throbbing heart and teary eyes she began to run even faster and from then on no longer paid attention to her surroundings. That would almost have been her undoing, for she overlooked a big stone that she stumbled over. But she instinctively caught herself with her arms so as to not hurt herself too seriously. Panting, but without hesitation, she jumped up again and ran on. Further and further she ran until she came to a group of trees that magically called her to them.

Reaching the shades of the trees, she stopped, panting so hard that she had to bend over and rest her hands on her knees for a moment to catch her breath again. But she couldn't look away from the trees for long.

There were three of them and a buzz seemed to be coming from them, causing her to automatically look out for a colony of bees or wasps. But she couldn't find any.

Come closer, child... Use the light of the day...

"What does that mean? Hello?"

Now a somewhat queasy feeling spread through her; and as if the voice could feel her insecurity, the warmth in her also increased.

Have no fear... Look around you...

Meanwhile, she no longer assumed that the voice was the spirit of her father. It sounded much too soft and clear and had nothing in common with his slightly smoky and deep voice, which she would never forget as long as she lived. No – the closer the young girl had come to the three trees, that despite their wide and sweeping growth swayed elegantly in the wind, the clearer she had heard the timbre of the voice. And it was clearly a woman's. But she was still not afraid, because the voice radiated so much peace and quiet that it even drove away the grief for her father. She prayed that her father felt at least half as much peace in the afterlife as the ghostly voice radiated.

With this new-found calm feeling she entered the shared shadow of the trees and felt a pleasant tingling sensation on her skin. Giggling, she looked at her goose bumps, which spread out on her arms, and slowly walked on to absorb everything around her.

This place had to be sacred, everything else wouldn't make sense. For she knew that it was highly unlikely that three different trees stood in such a strange formation to each other. And she was proud to be able to recognize the trees at the age of now five years old. Yes, her parents had already taught her a lot. With deliberate steps, she walked past the birch on the left and the poplar on her right side and approached the rowan, which stood in the centre of this shape, which for the little girl looked like a rustling and protective roof moving in the wind. There the hum was strongest, and when she stretched out her right hand and touched the bark with her fingertips, it was as if she could see the face of a woman in front of her for a fraction of a second. Shocked, she quickly pulled her hand away and took a step back. But the face hadn't seemed unfriendly as far as she could tell. It had even given her a smile. Taking all her courage together, she looked up into the treetop and spoke to the apparition.

"Is it you who called me? Who are you? Are you a ghost, like my papa?"

She didn't know what she was expecting, but certainly not that the voice would sound clearly from behind her back. And not only that, the voice was followed by a gentle laugh that magically melted her anxiety away within seconds and left her in a deep relaxed state.

I am here, dear child... Turn around…

The girl couldn't help but obey. And what she saw astonished her. How could she have missed it when she walked to the trees? In front of her was an upright grey stone embedded in the ground with a wider underside. It was half her height and with rounded corners, giving it a delicate softness. But what captivated the girl most were the many small bright dots on the stone that looked like sparkling stars. Under them were elaborately carved curved lines and the silhouette of a cat-like animal that had proudly raised its head. With a gasp she suddenly realized that it had to be a gravestone!

Her legs became weak and with an almost silent sigh she let herself fall to her knees. The soft grass dampened her fall, and with a shaky hand, she stretched out her arm to caress the gravestone devoutly. Should this be a coincidence? Was it perhaps even her father's grave? But that couldn't be – neither was the earth stirred up, nor were there fresh flowers. And the young girl knew that both her mother and her grandmother had wanted to lay flowers on her father's grave. In addition, the grave inscription wasn't in her mother tongue. Sure, she couldn't read yet, but she realized that the letters looked different than what the adults around her wrote in everyday life.

Following an inspiration, she suddenly opened her little bag and took out her mini sketchpad and the small pencil she always carried with her. She wanted to copy whatever was written there by drawing the letters and later try to figure out what it meant. And so she set to work.

Yes, child... That is the beginning...

It was only a faint whisper now and she had no idea what that meant, but the pleasantly warm feeling in her chest intensified and so she was sure that she wasn't doing anything wrong. Two or three times she had to cross out single letters because she hadn't managed to copy the curves correctly. But a little eternity later, she had captured all the writing on the small piece of paper and closed her book with a broad smile.

After she had securely stowed her booklet and pencil again, she closed her eyes for a moment and enjoyed the gentle silence and peacefulness of this place. Only the rustling of the leaves and grasses due to the mild wind and the gentle chirping of the birds reached her ears. For endless minutes she didn't move and gave herself completely to the sounds of the flora and fauna.

The longer she sat there, however, an idea grew: she wanted to pay her last respects to her father at this grave, even if it wasn't his. She quickly opened her little bag again and took out the picture that she had painted for him to say goodbye. It wouldn't lie in his grave with his mortal remains, but she was thankful that at least she could deposit it here for him and hope that his spirit could find it. Starting to sing a song that her father had taught her, she placed her picture right in front of the gravestone and weighted all four corners with small stones so that it couldn't be blown away by the wind. After singing the last verse of the song, she closed her eyes again for a minute of silence. Basically, she had no idea how a funeral was to be held; therefore she just let her instinct guide her.

But then something strange happened again. Suddenly, threads seemed to run around her to the gravestone which she could see with her eyes still closed. Shocked, she then opened them and looked around hectically. Right, left, behind her... everywhere the same picture – these threads... no. They were energy lines! She realized that when she started feeling a deep buzzing of energy around her. And from second to second it seemed to become more; it was as if pulsating lights were flowing from the three trees to the grave. And they seemed to always meet in one place: Right between her knees and her picture for her father.

Nervously, she watched what was happening, but apart from the pulsating light, which became constantly brighter and brighter, gathered in front of and frightening her, nothing else happened. Until, from one second to the next, a ball of light materialized before her eyes, only to slowly fade away a little later. Even before that ball of light had completely disappeared, the girl realized that there was now a book lying in front of her.

"How is that possible?"

She wasn't aware that she had asked her question out loud. Only when the unknown voice answered her did she realize it.

Magic, dear child... You have found me... Come, try to open the book...

The young girl was quite curious. She had always been attracted to magical things and now that she knew she was apparently a witch, she wanted to find out as much as possible about it. Nevertheless, she hesitated and the spirit behind the voice seemed to notice that.

What is on your mind, my child? Tell me, so that I can appease your concerns...

"I have no concerns," the girl quickly brought forth. "But I cannot read yet and my parents have taught me not to snoop around in other people's things."

They have raised you well... But I can tell you that this book was written for you...

"What? How can that be?"

Doubting it, she carefully stretched out her right hand towards the book and ran her fingers over the cover. No writing was printed on it, only intertwined forms. The longer she traced the lines with her eyes and then also with her fingers, the more she was captivated by them. Unconsciously, she lifted the book up and placed it in her lap when the gentle voice resounded again. She sounded really content and somehow the girl was happy about it.

Yes, my little one... Do you feel how it calls you? Open it...

Why not actually? It wasn't as if she was doing it against the permission of the voice. So why should she have a bad feeling about it? After all, she had only come here through a strange calling and a warm feeling within her chest, and now she felt a desire towards the book that she couldn't ignore because of that calling and feeling. It was as if her blood wanted her to open it. Still not releasing her gaze from the intertwined forms, she nonetheless managed to ask a question.

"I... I'm feeling strange. Like having ants under my skin inside my blood. Why is that?"

Oh, my dear child... It isn't only your blood... Haven't you been led here first by your heart? And didn't your curiosity then let you copy the inscription on my gravestone?

This news made the girl listen even more attentively.

And yes, then your blood responded too... For I let this book be wooed with a spell that addresses the body through the blood, the spirit through curiosity and the soul through the heart... And if you can open the book, I know that his waiting has come to an end...

"Who are you? Please tell me. And who is... he?"

At the same time she ran her left hand over the cover again, then hooked her fingers under and opened the first page. She couldn't say what she had expected – a fanfare? Fireworks? Butterflies flying out of the book? She giggled because of her imaginative ideas and simply accepted that this book was meant for her. But for what purpose?

I was right... Take a look at it, my dear child... It won't be in your possession for long for now. But when you remember it again, you will be able to call it to you... Then you will be able to read it and know who I was and who is waiting for you... But for now, goodbye, dear child...