Prologue

            On the sacred spirit land of YakGwa, just off the island of Beliker, stood a man draped head to toe in a thick black tunic with a wooden Kushtaka mask covering his face. His gloved hand cinched the fabric at his neck, shielding himself from the biting winds. The man had trekked through the lush and wild woods for almost three days now, trespassing on a place that no other human had ever gone. The dusk painted the sky a deep purple and cast the YakGwa forest into shadow.

YakGwa was spirit land. It was the place where Ch’áak’ had perched as she threw the pebbles, she had carried over from the spirit world in her golden beak. Ch’áak granted the pebbles her magic and as she threw the little stones, they grew into the land of Beliker.

YakGwa was the place where Yéil, had tricked the village leader into losing his treasured sun, moon and stars which he had kept locked away in three beautiful bentwood boxes. Yéil stole the treasures and spread light across the sky.

The place where Yéil had seen his children starve and had cried for three days until his tears flooded the land and Beliker became an island surrounded by an ocean full of fish to keep their bellies full.

YakGwa was the place of creation for the Tlagu tribe, and the land that humans were not allowed to enter. But no one had seen the spirits outside of the stories in a long time.

Rain pelted in piercing attacks throughout the forest as the man with the Kushtaka mask got closer and closer to what he sought. He had trudged through the sloshy mud, scouring YakGwa for days, looking for the Ch’áagu – the fabled willow tree that held one of the strongest remnants of old magic from the creation spirits. It was the heart of YakGwa – the spirit that protected the land.

And it was now right in front of him. Beneath the mask, a twisted smile spread across pale lips as his eyes befell the great tree. He dropped slowly to his knees before the Ch’áagu, his legs tearing into the ground beneath him. Reaching into the bag that was strapped to his side, he grabbed a single blackened kasayé flower. These curious flowers bloomed only in the coldest of winters, bright blue petals laying softly against beds of white snow. Their healing properties were unlike any other, but if they were not harvested correctly, they shriveled, their petals closing to the world and hardening. All that could be found inside the kasayé flower after that was a poisonous mulch.

The man laid the diseased flower at the base of the Ch’áagu and plunged a dagger through its heart, ripping through its hard inner shell and slashing its spirit. His hands, numb from the cold, caressed the kasayé, watching it swell and bloat until it popped and leaked a putrid black sap-like pus.

He could see his breath escaping before him into the abandoned forest as he began to mutter an incantation under his breath. It was too quiet to make out the words, but the voice was soft and coaxing. In a matter of moments, the rain ceased and hung frozen in midair. All sounds stopped. The leaves didn’t rustle and even the wind paused to hear his words – as though he were beckoning them to lean closer and listen.

He spoke in the language of the old magic, from a time when the creation spirits still walked the earth, and even though his incantation had started as a whisper, it slowly gained power until he now screamed at the Ch’áagu, commanding it to obey his will.

With one final chant, he poured the foul liquid on the roots of the tree. The black liquid bubbled and steamed as it sunk beneath the damp earth engulfing the roots and slinking its way up the Ch’áagu. Lightening crackled in the sky. As soon as the dark liquid touched the delicate leaves of the willow tree, thunder rained from the sky and struck the Ch’áagu.

All at once, noises returned to the forest. The rain crashed harder, leaves shook until they broke free of their trees and the wind screamed a warning through the forest.

“Ilí dé!” The man shouted into the air.

And just like that, everything returned to normal. As if nothing had happened.

From beneath his mask, he gazed upon the Ch’áagu which stood in perfect condition, harboring not even a scratch. He pressed his hand to the tree and grinned when he felt no magic residing in the Ch’áagu any longer.

— Excerpt from Beliker

The last ray of light had vanished over the horizon and the beach was nothing more than a silhouette of rocks, logs, and inky water. Too dark to find the shell for Avery. Rubbing his arms, Colton searched for the hoodie. Right when he found the rotted hunk of wood that he had tossed it on, he heard the snap of a branch and saw something move in the corner of his eye. His head snapped up, expecting to see the massive brown bear that had been wandering through the village. But it wasn’t a bear, it was a person.

Someone was standing up ahead on the beach. Watching him.

He was sure no one had been there a second ago, but there they stood. They didn’t move or speak – they just stared at him. Colton’s heart beat a little faster and he wiped his hand on his jeans.

He looked around to see if they were waiting for someone, but it was just the two of them here. He looked back at the person ahead of him. Were they closer?

There was a sudden queasy feeling in his stomach. He shouldn’t have come out here alone. His mom always told him not to go out in the dark. Things hide there, she said.

He adjusted his glasses, trying to figure out who that was, but all he could make out was a black shadow. It looked like a grown up. Maybe a man but he wasn’t sure. They were tall, and broad and their hands looked like they could fit very easily around his throat. This couldn’t be a stranger; Colton knew everyone in the village. He thought about calling out to them, asking them what they were doing, but he wasn’t that brave. If only it wasn’t so dark.

Without taking his eyes off the figure, he bent down to snatch his coat off the log, his legs tensing, ready to run.

The moment he took a step backwards, the figure spoke to him in a voice that made him want to cry with relief.

“What are you doing out here? You should be at home,” his mom scolded. Suddenly he could see her more clearly. He saw her signature silver Tlingit bangles, the delicate slope of her neck, that old fraying sweater that she loved so much. Had he really not recognized her a moment ago? She looked so small and familiar now.

“Sorry Mom, I just forgot my hoodie down here when we were playing.”

A breeze blew through her hair. He had thought she was showering when he left, but her hair wasn’t wet. She was still too far away for him to see her face clearly. He expected her to have her arms crossed, or have her hands fisted on her hips like she usually did when she was mad, but they just hung limply at her sides. In fact, she hadn’t moved towards him at all.

“Come here,” she cooed. “I want to show you something in the water.”

Colton looked behind him, back towards the road. He shifted from foot to foot.

“Can we go home? I’m cold,” he told her.

“Come here,” she said again, more forcefully this time. “Hagu!” He knew better than to argue with his mom, so he started walking forward.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Don’t worry. You’ll like this Colton,” she said sweetly. He froze. “Colton?”

“You never call me Colton,” he answered. He waited for her to laugh it off, but she went silent. The only sound was the whipping of the wind, and the woman didn’t take her eyes off him.

Colton was too close now and he knew something was wrong. She looked like his mom, but there was something too menacing in her stance. In the way her shoulders hunched, and her arms still hung at her sides with curled fingers that looked as sharp as claws. Her breathing was heavier now. She grinned.

— Excerpt from Kushtaka

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