The legend of the "Samodiva" goes as follows: when a young woman takes her own life, her spirit travels through the forest in search of "Zmeykovo," the village at the end of the world. There, she is given a veil. If she accepts it, she will become a part of the forest, a harmless spirit, keeping the forest clean, protecting the animals, and so on. Usually, they are depicted as pale women who dance to keep the forest healthy, but when humans get involved, the spirits can cause them harm equal to the one they've caused to the forest. The stories regarding their powers vary, depending on who you ask and depending on who has upset them, but if I have to be perfectly clear, the amount that is known about them is quite limited—or at least the amount that I know. Which is why, as of tomorrow, I will be investigating a small village in Bulgaria that has filed complaints about a spirit causing mischief. I hope the spirit has a good reason for her actions and that no extra effort besides talking is required. I heard that the time needed to reach this place from my hotel is about 20 minutes, yet it feels like I've been in this taxi for an hour. Maybe the driver is trying to scam me.
Dropped off at the border of bumfuck nowhere. Ageless trees and never-ending mountains surrounded the place. It was rather desolate. No wonder a spirit has taken a liking to it; it's basically in the backyard of the spirit world, waiting to be haunted. There were houses, of course—probably about a thousand people lived here, almost all elderly folk. Those that weren't 60 or above were probably the grandchildren of the inhabitants. A great place to disappear, it seems. As usual with these kinds of jobs, I found myself in the local tavern—or, if you could call it that, it was a café, restaurant, bar, and grocery store all at the same time. It smelled like everything at once: stew, coffee, alcohol, and isolation. The complete package.
Naturally, the people didn't recognize the stranger in their village, so they did my job for me. I felt a strong sensation on my shoulder, like a boulder suddenly fell and hit me in the precise spot where a person who doesn't know you and wants to get to know you grabs to shift your attention to them.
"Hello, young man!"
I've gotten used to people calling me that, even though I was probably older than most people on Earth.
"What brought you to this part of the country, son?"
I focused on the person talking to me, a man in his sixties, most likely a farmer. Given the vice grip of his hand, I'd assume he doesn't slack off on his chores. He had a friendly face, a bright smile, and a partisan moustache.
"Hello, mister. I was called to your village in regards to a spirit that has been troubling you and/or your neighbors."
"The ghostbuster! When I got the word that Svetla had called a ghostbuster, I thought, no way someone like that is gonna waste their time with a little place like ours. Let me tell you, everybody was skeptical, but that old woman—she believed in you, she did, yes."
Ghostbuster… sure. He did not stop there, but I will not be recounting all of his ramblings, so let me cut to it.
"Oh my, I forgot to introduce myself. Sorry, son. My name is Georgi. What is your name?"
My name faded from my memory, and in my glorious journeys I always fix a new one up! Too much explaining to do after. I don't have one! Sure, totally believable.
"Cyril."
"That'll do."
"Like my brother! He is a very good ma—"
"Sorry to interrupt you, mister, I have some questions. Would you be willing to talk me over what has happened, and when was the last time the spirit was present?"
Was that rude?
"No problem! So listen, I don't really know about ghosts, but I can tell you my homemade rakija will take you to the otherworld. I tell you, I tell you. Sit, sit, have a glass. You can't do your work without drinking some of my rakija. You will insult me!"
Oh god.
I don't drink. A lot. I couldn't pass the chance—maybe Georgi would feel more inclined to share ghost stories after a few drinks. And suddenly I hear how his cousin was a regional boxing champion 30 years ago, and he is calling him to come over to show off his moves because "I will love him." I got drunk. I loved the guy. They used to call him "The Dog" because apparently he was feral in the boxing ring. How cool is that! I got very drunk. They ended up playing some sort of folk music and rounded me up to teach me traditional dances. Georgi, his cousin, his second cousin—third, fourth… god, how many cousins did this guy have? Anyway, from this point on I don't remember anything. I was supposed to be at work, but, well, these spirits aren't hostile usually, so who cares?
I do. Because I woke up in the middle of the forest. No village in sight. No people. Just the night sky and the transient ambience of an everlasting forest. The trees felt alive—or maybe my head was pulsating so hard from my drinking spree that I could hear them talking. How long was I out for? All I know is that it's nighttime and I'm lost. The forest floor was trampled, like a circle of people had been dancing around my lifeless body. Gold coins lay scattered in the dirt. I stood up, shook off the dirt from my shirt—and in the blink of an eye, I was back in the village. Empty. Lifeless. Every light from every house was dead. No dancing, no drinking, no cousins. I guess it was time to work.
Then I saw her.
The ground beneath my feet turned to mud. The air was filled with the smell of pine and sorrow. The earth itself tried to eat me alive. Maybe it did, because all I could see again were the ageless trees and the woman who stood before me. I didn't realize how much I didn't know about the forest spirits. The pale woman stared at me with a faint smile, probably wondering where I was from. She had a large bruise on her neck—the one you get from hanging—and a very thin veil went from her face to her knees. I wondered when she died, but that didn't matter now. The job I came here for was standing in front of me, and I just looked at her like a lovestruck child.
"I am here for you, miss. Can we talk? You can feel that I am not like them, so may we indulge ourselves in a peaceful conversation?"
She left. My charisma had been murdered back in the village, and she may not have been a fan of my bloated, hungover face. Well, I should find my way back; I can't work with this spirit without knowing who she was, but it was worth the shot to cut my work short. With confusion running through my veins, I started walking back. I should really stop drinking… forever.
The feeling of the pine trees brushing on the sky brought me comfort. As I walked down, my memories returned. Is what I wished to say. How did I come up here? Maybe the samodiva brought me here. I've heard that they are regional spirits. Their powers are as powerful as the people who believe in them. Sometimes they show up riding an elk; sometimes they're decrepit, rotting creatures. That’s how the Polish leshens came to be. It was refreshing to see such a beautiful spirit. I got quite used to the decaying faces and broken limbs. I forgot this job could be stress-free sometimes, I hope at least.
Morning came. I heard roosters, as if they were calling my name. Then I saw the village. Same old place. Night, a year, a thousand years could pass, and I think this place would look the same: stagnation incarnate. Time to work. For real this time.
I asked around if anyone had seen Georgi, and everybody pointed me to a different person each time. It seems this is actually the most common name in the country. Out of the thousand people living here, probably half of them were named Georgi. As the final minute of my hangover passed, I remembered how small this place is actually. It took some time, but I found the tavern again—but it was closed. And as far as I could tell, it had been closed for years? Our spirit is a trickster. Here I thought I was making friends with the locals. My Georgi had been dead for about ten years, according to the obituary pasted on the front door of the tavern. Square one. I want a drink. He was an apparition, so were his cousins. I’ll miss them, but I wondered if this Svetla was real. Did the phantoms lead me the right way, at least? Luckily, there was some guy sitting on the bench in front of the tavern. Hope he was alive.
"Hello, mister," I said, introducing myself to the seemingly drunk person and explaining why I was here.
"You were here yesterday, young man. You just came and went. No greeting, no nothing," he said. I could hear what he was saying, but I couldn’t stop staring at his trembling jaw as he spoke. Why do elderly people always do this? Like his mouth is full of saliva and can't talk unless he swooshes it around.
"Son, you scared us, son. You looked pale. Did a ghost possess you I wondered, but you came and went. Svetla almost lost hope when she saw the kind of ghostbuster they sent us."
At least she was real.
"Can you point me to her house, or tell me where I can find her? I need to ask her a few questions about the ghost haunting you, ghostbuster business and all that."
I hate calling myself a ghostbuster.
"The ghost? We all know who's haunting us, son! It's the forest itself, I'm telling you. The forest hates us, but such is the way of life, son!"
The man gave me her address. The people here were too trusting for their own good, but it was welcome in this case. I walked off, hoping Svetla had a more thorough explanation about what haunts this place, because if the forest itself was angry, I may not be able to talk to some spirits and walk away. I would really hate it if I had to burn another forest down.
A knock on the door. Simple. I always feel nervous when I'm about to talk to a direct customer. Here goes nothing.
"Hello, I'm from the Supernatural Investigation Unit. You've called in regards to a samodiva haunting."
No answer. I could hear her shuffling inside her house. I hoped she wouldn’t open the door, and I would get to leave—leaving the spirits alone to haunt as they please. But of course, that’s not an option.
"Hello, miss Svetla! Yesterday I had an encounter with your spirit, so I was acting strange. Maybe you saw me passing through your village. I'm not… possessed anymore."
She did open the door.
"Hello, mister. Did you talk to Georgi?"
Huh.
"Yes, his cousins too."
"Good boys they were. Well, come in, mister. What's your name?"
After my quick explanation, Svetla seemed more comfortable with my presence. I told her everything that happened and everything I knew about the samodivas. While she was thinking of a response, I felt the smell of her house: the smell of incoming death, an empty and soulless house. The shadows of the trees were stretching inside the house, all pointing at her like servants kneeling in front of their master. If I had to guess, probably every house in the village looked like this. Was this place even worth saving?
"Georgi, you see, he was my husband. Good man, a working man. The fields were his passion, slashing away wheat all day, cutting trees in the winter."
He did have strong hands.
"Sorry to cut you off, miss. But I have some questions. Would you mind if I record our conversation, just a custom of my job?"
"Of course, son, I don't mind."
"What is your name and how old are you?"
"Svetla Petrova. I'm 74."
"What was your first encounter with the spirit? Did you know its nature then? Do you know it now?"
"Ten years ago, my husband was out in the mountain, cutting trees. It was autumn, the winds were coming. We knew it would be a hard winter, so he went to gather some trees for us and some of our neighbors. He took his cousins; men don't go alone in there. Bear sightings are common here, so they liked to move together when they had work. That same night, he didn't come home. And the next day, when he returned, he was alone and all of his cousins had gone home to their wives. Then he explained how, while they were chopping trees, all of them blacked out. He had woken up alone inside a trampled circle of grass with coins scattered around him. Then he said that a woman stood above him. She pointed toward our village and left, is what he told me. I was frozen in place, for I knew—he saw a samodiva. Then, a day after he returned, he and his cousins went back up the mountain, left just like that. No goodbye, no nothing. They have been missing ever since. I know they're dead because she came to my home and told me. 'As you have taken, so shall I.' I knew my husband's fate; I knew it the moment he came back from the forest. I knew."
"What has the spirit done to you or your village? What warranted your call to us?"
"She has demanded respect. She wants us to care for the forest, not harm it. We have put up with this. Suddenly she started wanting more: our chickens, our wood and eventually our people. Everything. We can't live on like this."
Why was she lying to me? I can't interfere with her answers because all she says must be authentic. She was lying. Samodivas don't take sacrifices; they are harmless unless provoked. She wants me to kill it. Her trembling hands, her small sorrowful eyes. Her story was plausible, until now. Maybe the death that surrounds this house is a warning: chickens, wood, and people. Sure.
"What do you know about this spirit?"
"Her name was Jelyazka. After her fiancé died, she was left all alone. She hung herself deep in the forest, too broken to live. The legend says that the mountain took her soul in, taking pity on her and giving her another chance to live in the eternal dance of the forest. She has the power to deceive you, sometimes just to play with you, making it seem like you've been walking for hours when you're just coming back from the store. She can possess your soul, fool you into going deep inside the forest. Her lust for life lures you, and eventually, when you've gone deep enough, by the place she hung herself, she will take your hand in dance, slowly sucking your life away."
"How far in the forest is the place where Jelyazka took her life?"
"Two kilometers in by the trail that leads outside the village. There is a water fountain built there in her honor. You'll see it."
"Thank you for your time."
After finishing the mandatory interview, I only stared at Svetla. Her wrinkled face kept something. Her look was so innocent; she trusted me. Somehow she knew that I would make the right choice, but that’s harder than it looks. I may be their savior, but I might as well be their demise. I don't want more blood on my hands. By now I should be drowning in it. This is just another case. Why am I in such a wheel of confusion?
I felt deep unease. The death surrounding the house thickened. A couple of questions rose from the ashes of my conversation with Svetla. Why did this feel like a test? Why did she ask me if I had talked to Georgi even before I'd mentioned it? Maybe I was looking too much into it, but this felt more like someone playing human rather than being human. Her eyes were following me, tracking thoughts I hadn't yet spoken.
"Are you going to the forest now, mister?" she said with childlike wonder.
"Yes. Thank you again for the hospitality. If I have any other questions, I'll return to your house. Keep it in mind."
"And we'll welcome you back, mister."
We? The front door of the house creaked as she said that, and I took it as my cue to leave. I had wasted too much time already.
I've come to appreciate the air outside Svetla's home. It rejuvenated my senses; the brisk cold breeze cleared my head. I was walking past all the houses, thinking hers probably isn't like the rest of them, but they all had the same death air around them. Was this the samodiva's doing? I passed the drunk man sitting in front of the tavern.
"Mister, is you possessed again?"
It's a reasonable question.
"No, I am not."
"You sure look the part, mister. With those bleeding ears and all."
What? When I touched the side of my head, I felt it. Warm blood. I can bleed? My seal is having a reaction to the curse. Something can hurt me here. This place. My hands were trembling. I haven't felt fear in so long, I even forgot the sensation of it.
"I will be taking my leave. Thank you again for showing me the way to Svetla's."
"Always welcome. Stay safe, stranger."
Step by step I took off. The trail in front of me widened as I came closer. I was being invited in. Like a vampire I took the invitation. The trees had no shadows. The forest was silent, the only living thing in it was a cawing raven. I felt watched, examined. The raven was showing me the way; leading me deeper and deeper inside the mountain. No wind. The fear from earlier had washed out from me. I had a job to do and the trees were my audience. The bark of these old monoliths resembled faces. A million smiling faces, enjoying my company. As I took my next step, the wind returned. The water fountain was in sight and the pines were no longer smiling, they were waiting. They wanted to maul me and rip me to shreds. I was about to meet their caretaker.
A soundless entourage of deep nothingness embraced me. Led me on a leash like a dog. There were no monsters here, only one. Step by step. The sticks breaking beneath my feet, sons of a silent age laid to rest. My stitched up body was tensing, each move forward felt like an entire year has passed. The raven rested on a branch. Looking at me from above, showing me that I have no authority over here. Its beady eye was piercing through my head.
I was here. The water fountain simply said. "Jelyazka 1855 - 1878". A peer. What was she like I wonder? Did she have hopes or dreams? The forest floor got enveloped in ice. Snow started falling in a gentle pirouet, the wind took each snowflake by its hand and twisted it, turning this snowfall into a spiraling demon. Crashing onto me. Millions and millions of souls embracing me in a chilling hug. The people clearly haven't forgotten about this spirit.
She didn't intend to hurt me. I felt that way at least. Frost to rain. The hardened forest floor turned into mud in seconds. I'm tired.
"Guardian of the forest, I've heard of your pain, I come with no ill will. Spirit of wisdom, I request your appearance. Come before me, Jelyazka."
A woman embraced by mist, appeared on the trail a bit farther from the water fountain. Each step she took made flowers bloom beneath her feet. The little flowers withered as she continued walking. I was wondering if she would even reach me. I hope I haven't angered her by using her name.
Right as she neared the fountain, she stopped. As if there was an invisible force keeping her from getting closer. She turned her head toward the raven's location. It had disappeared. Was it her familiar? I don't think that samodivas summon any of these. Her eyes were staring at me now. A cold gaze, all of the frost and rain that gripped the forest was now running through me. She was asking me to come closer. I did. She placed her pale hand on my cheek. Testing if I would wither - I didn't - Her eyes turned brighter and a warming smile invited me into her domain.
"You've long been traveling. You haven't been human for a while. You know my story. She had told you. You non-human, you're being trialed. You hold every human's life, be careful with your actions."
Her words ran through me. Trampling my brain. Spirits normally find me easy to talk to, but she was keeping her distance. Her echoing voice flew through the forest, each tree was a different juror. Witnessing my testament. At times like these I used to wonder, was anyone praying for me. Then again what's a prayer going to do.
"I have little time left here non-human. As winter approaches I will leave the forest. Humans will die again. Their curse cannot be lifted, but it may be passed on. Do what you must, guardian of life."
I felt that she was ready to take her leave. A curse? Was that interrupting with my seal back at the village?
"Jelyazka. Why did you bring me here, the first night I saw you? If you already knew why didn't you help me earlier?"
Saying her name would buy me some time. Names, as I heard from the Apache tribe years ago, were powerful.
"You were being tested. Your soul was falling in a trap. I am not here to help you, for helping in her trial means failure. Good luck traveler, may your choices be of sound mind. Until we meet again."
Her figure slowly succumbed inside the mist she came from. Leaving only withered flowers in her leave. The forest hummed as if it was crying, mourning the presence of its master.
"Farewell." Was the only thing that I could muster.
Her presence froze me in place. This brief interaction showed me what I needed to know at least. As suspected the samodiva poses no danger. Her last words, I felt the same sense of fear run through me as the one I felt back in the village. I'm being trialed. So some spirit needs to die.
I'm caught in-between some cat and mouse game and I'm not sure which one I am supposed to be. Have my sins finally caught up to me? I would be at peace if this was the last case I ever took. Let's hope my death is painless at least. As thoughts of this caliber flashed through my brain, I heard it. Cawing in the distance. Standing on the same branch that it landed before. Looking at me and pointing with its beak. Leading me towards the end of my case—or that of my journey.
I've lived long enough. When you think you're near your end, no matter how long you've lived. You wish you'd had a little bit more time. I too am scared of death. I can walk away, hand in hand with eternity. The people I save can't. I'm not worth one human life what gives a thousand. Such were the thoughts that I was having at this time. I didn't even realise that I had begun walking back the trail. The forest was quite beautiful a sight I could not appreciate during my previous encounters with it.
As the shadow of the village grew closer, my head started spinning. The plague that had infested this place was something that could take me in an instant. My flying companion made a single sound as it landed on my shoulder.
"From whence you came" it whispered.
Then nothing. Maybe it was never here, but now I couldn't see it too. Suddenly my body stared walking on its own. I was being pulled in around the dirt roads of the village. In the blink of an eye, I was in front of Svetla's house. Words I hadn't spoken came out of my mouth.
"May I come in?" My mouth said on its own.
The door to the house opened, like a mouth opening. The windows shifted like eyes looking straight at me. Staring with anticipation. I looked more like a meal than a person.
"You may."
Her voice grainy and playful pulled my neck, a leash strapped onto it was dragging me to the inside of the house. And I took a seat.
"You play the judge through distant lands, forcing human will on beings far beyond you. Yet, you're no human. Your life is spared."
I couldn't think because I knew that every thought I had she already knew. My mouth was sewn shut.
"I've seen your deeds before. Your actions hurt my sister before. You burned her down. Tonight you spared her offspring. Congratulations."
I felt like I was being scolded by God himself. Judging every action and choice that I had made.
"I've never intended to hu-" With a single move of the wrist she cut my tongue off.
"I know. Your turn to speak had not yet come. I have a final proposal to you. Since you were the one who cursed this village, you are the one who will choose its fate. Either the curse walks beside you, or it resides wherever it may please. Walk now and be free or walk with me forever."
I was the mouse. This bloodthirsty cat was itching to skin me alive. A curse. Eternal life is not enough. Maybe I shouldn't be the hero this time. What has this- "Speak." - Another gentle motion and my tongue came back.
"Thank you. My job is to protect all life. Human or not. So I... May the curse walk beside me for as long as I'm alive." I couldn't help it, could I.
A crooked smile pasted itself on Svetla's face. Maybe that was not the answer I should've gone with.
"Your undying soul shall walk forward, judge and executioner, under my judgement—as long as you're alive, or as long as I deem fit."
The raven from before emerged from the darkness that swallowed the house, letting out a cry as it flew in my direction. Its head penetrating my mouth, climbing down my throat, each feather brushing against my teeth. I felt its beak tear through my insides, wings flapping inside my stomach as it clawed its way deeper. When it finally settled, nesting among my organs, I felt nothing.
The unbearable pain vanished. So did the house. So did Svetla. I stood on a patch of dirt, that looked like it had never had anything on it.
Maybe somewhere far from here, a house was walking through the woods.
I thought of asking the locals about Svetla or her house. But I figured they would all say something like -There has never been a house there mister.- My seal had some new sigils engraved on it. Maybe this was for the better. I remember before with each case gone bad, I would be left with one thought. I don't want to be this kind of animal anymore. I guess I won't have the choice to be anymore. The village was saved. The job was done. I took my leave. I didn't need a hero's farewell, nor did I think that I would get one.
I hope this report isn't too long. As you can deduct, this unsupervised curse was not something I could escape, so if you could don't take it out of my paycheck.
Samodiva case - closed.