Forefather's Eve: An Univited Guest

He remembered that day as if it was yesterday.

He was on his way back home after grazing his sheep in the meadows. The wind blew through his blonde hair. As he approached the pen where he was to herd the sheep, he heard someone call his name.
“Mozuta!” one of his friends called out to him.
“Jawor!” he replied, running happily towards another boy after closing a wooden gate.
“Finished?”
“Yes,” he replied, looking over at the sheep. Seeing that they were all inside, he shifted his focus to his friend. “Is it starting?” he asked.
Jawor smiled, revealing his missing tooth, and nodded vigorously. Mozuta beamed at the news. On that day, he was finally permitted to participate in a Forefather's Eve celebration. It was a very important day. One of the elderly villagers took on the role of a Soul Guide and helped ghosts who could not reach eternal peace because of the sins they had committed in life.
It was especially amazing because the rest of the villagers were not just passive onlookers. They could help the ghosts, too! Jawor told him that, the previous year, a pair of child ghosts had come and asked for two grains of wheat. Fortunately, Jawor had some with him and gave them to the Guide, who then placed them in the hands of the little ghosts. Jawor was glad that he had been able to help the two children reach eternal peace in the Weles.

“I wonder if I will be able to help lost souls too! Maybe in the future I will become one of them, and then I can come back here for help!” said Mozuta.
“Wouldn't it be better to go to Weles immediately after leaving the body, rather than staying here?' asked Jawor.
“Maybe." Mozuta admitted. "But, to be honest, I would like to stay and ask the Guide to help me meet my parents at least once before I leave,” he explained. Mozuta had never seen his parents. His grandparents had taken care of him since his mother left him with them.
Not knowing what to say, Jawor walked alongside smiling Mozuta in silence until they returned home. The boys said goodbye. They couldn't wait for this evening.

As the sun set, the villagers gathered in the hut built in the middle of the cemetery.
Outside, the sun was gradually setting. Mozuta skipped along happily alongside his grandparents. They passed headstone after headstone until they finally spotted a familiar building in the centre. It had once been the mausoleum of a wealthy family who had ruled these lands, and its beautiful masonry walls and ornamentation were still intact. Now, the local cemetery caretaker used the structure to store his tools. Today, however, was an exception to the rule. All the shovels, rakes, wheelbarrows and planks for new coffins were lying outside. Once a year, the place known to locals as the undertaker's hut transformed into the site of a unique ritual.

Mozuta and Jawor stood at the front because they had arrived early. Their eyes sparkled as they looked at old Tomas, who was preparing to become a Guide for the night. He lit the candles on the walls. Then he returned to the middle of the mausoleum and lit another candle that was on the floor. He picked it up and lowered his head.
The sun set, giving way to the moon. Ravens and crows raised their voices, piercing the night's silence.

Long ago, there were many Soul Guides in the Kingdom of Pollechia. They wandered through the lands, helping souls who had become ghosts that were unable to reach Weles. Unfortunately, their numbers dwindled over time. Fewer and fewer people were born with the power to touch ghosts. Because of this, there were more lost souls. This is why ordinary people decided to help them themselves. During the Forefather’s Eve, when Weles was closest to the world of the living, the oldest person in the village, who was deemed to be near death, could muster a little bit of power that normally belonged to the Guides.

Tomas took a deep breath and uttered a chant that helped the guides use their powers.

“Darkness around. Dullness around. What will it be? What will be now?”

The sudden gust of wind made the fire in Tomas’s candle disappear. He put it back on the floor and raised his thin and dried arms.

“Darkness around. Dullness around. What will it be? What will be now?”

Tomas repeated the chant.

Mozuta hugged himself. His breath became visible. White puffs were escaping his mouth. He glanced sideways at Jawor. Despite shivering from the sudden cold, his friend nodded with a broad smile on his face. It had begun.

“If you are here, please tell me, what is it that you need to leave the land of living and reach Weles?”

Tomas’s question made people look around, anticipating something.
The sun's light was nowhere to be seen.
The moon was hidden behind the clouds.
Darkness reigned outside.
The old man’s hands were still raised. He lowered them the moment he heard someone knocking on the door of the undertaker's hut. Everyone turned around and scanned the faces of the people present. The whole village was gathered in the large mausoleum. No one was missing.

The guest without a body had come to seek the Guide's help.

Mozuta felt his throat tighten as he struggled to swallow. He was so excited that he did not notice his friend's surprised look.

“Why it did it have to knock?” Jawor wondered. Despite the prevailing chill, a drop of sweat trickled down his cheek.

The crowd parted so that Tomas could pass and reach the door.

He didn’t open them. He only asked the standard question.

“Tell me, what do you need?”

"aalxacpacm”

Unkown sound reverberated in the hut. The coldness became even heavier.

“It's like winter,” thought Mozuta out loud.
“It's bad,”said Jawor. Mozuta looked at him, surprised.
“Why?”
“It’s probably an evil one.”
“How do you know?”
Jawor furrowed his brows.
“It’s obvious! Everyone shivers, and that ghost says nonsense!”
“Wasn’t it like that before?”
“No, they never knocked before. They just came in and asked for small things. I’ve never seen an evil ghost, so I’m not sure... but... I just have a feeling.”

Mozuta shifted his gaze to Old Tomas, who was standing by the door.

“Please tell me in a way that we can understand.” Tomas repeated his question.

“Is it that hard to open the door?” the newcomer asked. Its voice was deep.
Mozuta felt as though the owner of the voice was speaking directly into his ear.
Everyone inside stood still.
“We don’t have to open the door for a benevolent guest. They can come when they want. Is it different for you?” Tomas tried to speak to the being. His voice was slightly trembling.
“Unfortunately. Will you open the door?”
Tomas took a breath and replied firmly, “No.”
“Then may I ask for something?”
“Yes, if we are able to provide it, we will.”
“I’m glad. I need one person.”
Everyone looked at each other in surprise.
“I need them to come with me.”
“Why?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Where?”
“I can’t tell you that either.”
“What will you do if nobody comes with you?”
The ghost chuckled.
“There will be someone. Right?”

Its' voice resonated in Mozuta’s head. The boy started walking towards the door. His friend Jawor grabbed his hand.
“Mozuta, what are you doing?”
No answer.
“Mozuta?”
Jawor let go of his friend’s hand and watched him walk away.

Mozuta stood behind Tomas.
“I’ll go,” the boy said impassively.
The old man turned around and was met with the Mozuta’s empty gaze.
“Tomas? What is going on?” one of the villagers asked. Jawor recognized this voice. It was Mozuta’s grandmother.
“I will go,” Mozuta repeated.
“This boy probably has some connection with the ghost. It controls him.” Tomas deduced.
“How is that possible?! Only evil ghosts can...” Mozuta’s grandmother stopped mid-sentence. Everyone fell silent.

The only voice to break the ensuing silence was the little boy, who repeatedly said:
“I will go.”

Old Tomas bit his lip and turned back at the door.

“Why do you need this boy? Can’t you choose me instead?”

“I don’t know you. But I know that boy. He is of my blood.”

Tomas widened his eyes in surprise.

“Don’t tell me…” Mozuta’s grandmother came closer to the door.
As the village guide could only access a fraction of the power of a true Soul Guide, he could only help ghosts with a connection to the area. They usually returned to the place where they were born.
Mozuta’s grandmother came to a conclusion, knowing that.

“Is it you, Jawozina?”

“That was my name when I was alive.”

Jawor looked at the faces of the adults. They were all shocked. He looked at Mozuta’s grandmother, who fell to her knees and started crying. Her husband ran to her and embraced her. He couldn't stop the tears from falling either.
“She won’t hurt her son?” asked one of the villagers.
“She shouldn’t,” answered another.
“But what if we don’t allow him to go out?”
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t want to know what could happen.”
Jawor clenched his fists. He couldn’t fully understand what was going on. The only thing he could say was:
“I don’t want to lose my friend!” he screamed. His mother ran to him and covered his mouth with her hand.
“Don’t worry. It'll be all right,” she said, trying to reassure him.

Tomas looked at the villagers gathered in the mausoleum. Their eyes were full of worry.
He nodded at them and took Mozuta’s hand.
“What are you doing?” asked the old woman. What did he intend to do to her beloved grandson?
The younger men of the village approached her and held her down before she or her husband could protest.
“I will let the boy out,” Tomas told the ghost. He opened the door slightly. Through the gap came a hand, white as snow. It stretched towards the boy. Tomas placed the boy’s hand on the ghost’s pale one and let him out.
The moment the boy was outside, the old guide hurriedly closed the door.
“How could you?” Mozuta’s grandparents screamed.
“Mozuta!” Jawor cried.