Elara Aletheia and the Healer's Council

With Halloween around the corner I thought it would be fun to share a ghost story.

Elara Aletheia and the Healer's Council by Nathan Schechter

Once, in a forgotten village tucked between forests so thick the sun rarely reached the ground, there lived a young woman named Elara Aletheia.

The village was prosperous. Its fields were lush, its animals fat, and the people well-fed and comfortable.

It was a place where life seemed good, where no one went hungry, and the seasons passed in peaceful rhythm.

Yet Elara often felt a strange unease, though she was at a loss to explain it.

When Elara was young, her sister had disappeared. One winter morning, she was simply gone.

The village elders told her that it had been a fever, a sudden illness that had taken her sister in the night, and that her body had been buried quickly, before the sickness could spread. She couldn’t remember any illness, and no one had spoken of her sister’s burial.

But she was a child then, and the village had been kind, so she let the unease drift to the back of her mind. She lived among good people, and there was much to be happy about.

As the years passed, life in the village carried on as it always had.

The harvests were bountiful, the animals bred without trouble, and the winters were mild.

Elara became a member of the Mystic Healer's Council, specializing in spirit walking - a path she chose out of a deep yearning to understand what had happened to her sister.

A wise spiritwalker named Paramita

Her apprenticeship was guided by many teachers, but one she shared a special bond with was a wise spiritwalker named Paramita, who taught her the movements and the rhythms of healing and spirit walking.

Paramita’s presence was a source of comfort to Elara, and often she would go to her cottage on nights when she felt ill at ease.

One night when Elara was particularly upset, Paramita calmed her and offered her ginger tea.

While they sat at the table and hummed the incantations of spirit walking, Paramita took a delicate and intricate pendant and hung it around Elara’s neck

. “It can release magic, but it is only to be used in times of greatest peril and to guide you in your darkest moments,” she said.

The next morning, Paramita left for distant lands.

Elara never got to say goodbye.

Life went on.

Then, when Elara was twenty years old, another child disappeared.

The elders met the issue with the same story about the fever, and her friends would avert their eyes, muttering something about misfortune.

No one seemed to want to talk about it.

Desperate for answers, Elara spoke to the Healer's Council, hoping they could offer insights or comfort. But they were evasive, offering only platitudes about fate and the natural order.

Their reassurances felt hollow, but Elara couldn’t make sense of the feelings she was having.

At night, she would hear the wind rustling through the trees outside her window, and sometimes, just faintly, it sounded like a child’s whisper. Or weeping.

Elara tried to convince herself it was just her imagination, but the unease pressed heavier on her chest with each passing day.

The disturbances began to invade her spirit walking.

During her journeys, she encountered visions - children wandering aimlessly, their faces twisted in pain, and shadows flickering just out of reach. They seemed to be trapped in a limbo, and she was the only one who could see them.

Others in the village remained blissfully unaware, their concerns limited to what feed to fetch for the animals, or how to best rotate the crops.

One morning, feeling overwhelmed, Elara sought out Nara, her fellow healer, in the village’s small herb garden.

The scent of fresh mint filled the air, but it did little to ease the tightness in Elara’s chest.

“Nara,” Elara began, her voice shaky, “I need to talk to you about something. It’s… it’s about what I’ve been seeing during my spirit walks.”

Nara looked up, brushing her hands on her apron. “What is it, Elara?”

“I keep encountering children—lost ones, I think. They’re wandering in the shadows, and I can hear them whispering. It feels like something is wrong. Like they’re trying to tell me something.”

Nara’s brow furrowed in concern, but her expression quickly shifted to one of gentle dismissal. “You know how the mind can play tricks on us. Maybe you’re just imagining it. Spirit walking can stir up old fears.”

“But they seem so real,” Elara insisted, desperation creeping into her tone. “I can’t shake the feeling.”

“Listen,” Nara said, her voice soothing yet firm.

“Life is unpredictable, and people are mortal. Loss is part of our existence. You’ve been through a lot with your sister. It’s only natural to feel these things more acutely. Dwelling on them won’t help anyone.”

Elara felt a pang of frustration. “But what if it’s more than that? What if these children need our help?”

Nara sighed, placing a comforting hand on Elara’s shoulder.

“I understand your concern, truly. Just try to focus on your healing work. Don’t let your imagination spiral out of control. Sometimes, it’s best to let the past rest. We can’t save everyone.”

Elara nodded slowly, but inside, her unease only deepened. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something dark loomed over their village, and Nara’s words felt like a fragile barrier against the encroaching shadows.

Then the hauntings escalated.

One night, Elara woke in the middle of the night, the air cold despite the summer heat, and there, standing at the foot of her bed, was her sister.

Pale, gaunt, her eyes wide and hollow. She was not a child anymore but twisted by time, as though she had grown in some terrible place, warped by darkness. Her lips moved, but no sound came.

Then she vanished, leaving Elara trembling, her heart pounding in her chest.

Determined to uncover the truth, Elara returned to the elders, but they were as elusive as ever, offering the same old stories about sickness and misfortune.

The hauntings grew worse, intruding into her spirit walks, where she began to see things others did not.

Elara decided to go to the forest where she heard the cries and whispers emanating, to look for explanations from all those years ago.

The villagers had always warned against wandering too far into the woods, but she no longer cared.

She needed answers.

Deep within the forest, past the point where the trees crowded so tightly that barely a sliver of light could break through, she found a cave.

It was ancient, overgrown with moss and ivy, but there was a presence about it, a feeling of something dark and old. Inside, the air was thick and cold.

In the depths of the cave, Elara came face to face with an old man, frail and hunched, his face pale as bone, his eyes like black pits.

He smiled as if he had been expecting her. "You've come for answers," he croaked, his voice like dead leaves crumbling in the wind.

"You see, I’m simply the caretaker of this forest. I tend to things. Things as they are, as they were, and as they will be. Everything is as it should be here. Things here follow the natural order. All is well. You should go now. Go home and rest."

Confused, Elara pressed on, "But what about the children? I saw them - trapped in some terrible way. What is happening here?"

The old man’s smile faltered, replaced by a cold glare. "This is not your affair, and you are trespassing."

Elara felt a surge of desperation. "I need to know! What is going on? It's driving me mad."

The man leaned closer, his voice dropping to a threatening whisper. "You’d do well to leave before you regret your curiosity. These woods are not safe for those who pry into matters beyond their understanding."

As fear clutched her heart, Elara stood fast. "I must know."

"Stay here one moment longer and you will lose your place in the Healer's Council. You WILL go mad! And you will be lost forever in the lands of spirit walking!"

The man began to chant a cacophony of sounds - grating, awful sounds.

Elara felt her head spin, and her stomach clench as if she would be sick.

Terrible fear welled up inside her, and the world started to go black.

As Elara fell to the ground, the intricate pendant Paramita had given her swung against her neck.

With strength leaving her body, she managed to grasp it with one hand.

Her hand grew warm, and the air around her began to shimmer. Light blossomed from the pendant, growing incredibly bright and illuminating the cave.

When Elara looked to where the old man had been, she saw his frail form melt away to reveal an tall figure draped in dark, flowing robes, eyes burning with malice.

"You DARE to bring that pendant into my domain," he snarled.

"This is MY domain! I am the KEEPER here. You trespass."

"But the children," Elara cried.

"The children belong to me!" the sorcerer screeched.

Elara’s heart raced as she realized the horror of his words. "What have you done to them?" she demanded.

The sorcerer laughed, a chilling sound that echoed off the stone walls. "Your village made a deal … long ago. For their wealth and comfort, they offered the lives of their children. Your sister was one of many. The souls of the lost ones are my due."

Elara’s blood turned cold.

The truth was worse than she had imagined.

The village had traded its children for wealth; they had swallowed the story of sickness and misfortune to hide the terrible reality.

The sorcerer smiled gleefully as he watched her. "Lies hold great power. They can make the worst truths disappear. But lies are expensive things. The hauntings you’ve witnessed - they are payment."

Elara could feel her heart pounding in her chest, but she didn’t back down. She stood her ground, holding the pendant, its light battling the darkness of the cave.

Remembering Paramita’s teachings, she began to hum the spirit chants she had learned.

The light from the pendant grew brighter, and she saw Paramita's form before her. "What must I do?" she asked the vision.

"You already know the answer, Elara," the vision of Paramita replied softly.

“Fly away from here!” cried the sorcerer, his voice dripping with malice. “They are mine, mine, mine!”

The vision of Paramita shimmered in the air. "Elara, you must break the pact. Destroy the magic.”

“I’m afraid,” said Elara. "What will happen?”

Paramita replied, “True, it will come at some cost.”

“She lies,” cried the sorcerer. “She knows the cost is too much to bear. Your village will be destroyed. And you... you will die. No one will believe you. And you will lose all your friends. You will die alone and without anything and anyone. Are the children really worth all that?"

Elara stared at the faces of the children lost to the village’s greed. She thought about her sister - about losing the ones still living that she cared about, like Nara. She looked at the sorcerer, consumed with his dark magic, and the vision of Paramita that seemed small in the dark cave.

Finally, with a surge of resolve, she held up the pendant gifted by Paramita and said quietly to herself: “The truth demands courage, Elara.”

And with that, the light blossomed, and Elara broke the sorcerer’s spell.

The souls of the children were freed, drifting away into the night like smoke.

The village, once so prosperous, crumbled. The crops failed, the livestock sickened.

Elara, though shaken and scarred and more alone, was finally free from the nightmares.

The village would never be the same, nor was she, but neither village nor healer were any longer haunted.

Elara, it’s said, traveled to a new land and became a teacher in a Healer’s Council.

After she passed, her students remembered her for sharing many rhythms and songs of healing.

Among the lessons she taught was one she called “Paramita’s Pendant”, it went like this:

Lies may seem like a shield, protecting us from uncomfortable realities, but the things they hide can cause disease and discomfort when they fester, growing stronger with time.

The truth is a powerful magic and a way to free ourselves from the ghosts that haunt us.

copyright by Nathan Schechter, September 20, 2024 All Rights Reserved.