Ivory glanced back toward the village. “We won’t let that happen, now will we? Tell me—”
An energy coursed through her veins. She shot to her feet and looked in every direction for a source, the sky and forest whirring around her. A whispering voice echoed between the trees, as though spoken from many discordant voices: “The heart of the spirit.”
Ivory dropped to her knees in front of Elizabeth and placed a hand on either shoulder. “Did you—”
Elizabeth closed her eyes. “I heard.”
Ivory gripped Elizabeth’s shoulders until her short nails dug against the long sleeves of Elizabeth’s dress. “We’ll leave—travel somewhere safe and make sense of all this.”
“I can’t.” Elizabeth’s voice cracked. “My baby, I can’t leave him.”
“Nonsense. You must.”
Elizabeth stood, shaking dirt loose from her skirts. “I won’t.”
“I’m sorry,” Ivory said, gentling her voice. Unlike Elizabeth, she didn’t have a husband or child. She still lived with her mother, father, and sister. How easy it would be to forget the ties that bound most women to the village. “Then we shall carry on until he has grown.”
The pair soon learned the Universe had chosen them to restore balance to the earth, an idea their minds would have rejected if their hearts were not so touched by the purity of the Universe’s voice.
And so, on some evenings to follow, they stole away into the forest, performing rituals guided by the Universe to conjure peace. Their gifts strengthened over time, and the Universe promised their true purpose would soon be revealed. Elizabeth and Ivory had no common ground otherwise: Elizabeth was married to a tailor, and Ivory was unwed, nearly too old to attract a suitor.
One afternoon, however, Elizabeth told Ivory of a deeper confliction, of the curse of many unknown voices, and not only the voice of the Universe.
They were sitting side-by-side near a dried riverbed, and the fabric of Ivory’s dress rustled against the fabric of Elizabeth’s. Ivory swallowed to steady her own quick, shallow breathing.
“I’m sure sense will come of it in time,” Ivory offered.
Elizabeth turned to her. “Such are these times, Sarah, that I think you are the only soul in the world who understands.”
Ivory searched Elizabeth’s eyes. Her heart leapt forward, and, before she could control her impulse, she pressed her lips against Elizabeth’s. Ivory quickly sat back, heat burning her cheeks and ears, but when she dared steal a glance, she noticed a blush creeping from the neckline of Elizabeth’s dress and the small contented smile that touched Elizabeth’s lips.
In nearby settlements, women were burned alive for such things. But Ivory wasn’t willing to sacrifice the hope she found in Elizabeth’s company.
Early one evening, while most of the townsfolk were still at work, Ivory opened her window and helped Elizabeth climb into her room. They huddled close under blankets, dressed only in their undergarments, facing each other on a small cot.
Ivory tucked one of Elizabeth’s curls behind her ear. “We will leave this place,” she whispered, “I promise you. When your child is grown, the time will be kind for our departure.”
The floorboards creaked, and Elizabeth’s body went rigid in Ivory’s arms. Ivory clutched the blanket over their bodies. Her mother walked in and gasped, then spun away and shielded her eyes as Elizabeth quickly dressed and fled the house in tears.
“You are no child of mine!” Ivory’s mother said in a voice drenched with disgust. Her hooded grey eyes narrowed, her fists balled on her hips. “They will be talking your death to know what you’ve done. Wipe her from your mind. Hear me, child, for you will find the end of a noose if you continue this path. May God send his mercy upon you and cleanse the blackness in your soul.”
Ivory’s sister, Anne, appeared in the doorway, but just as quickly turned and darted from the house, her fiery hair trailing behind and bleeding against the red, setting sun. Ivory refastened the bodice of her dress and chased after. If Anne said anything about what she’d seen…
Ivory couldn’t let that happen. She rushed out to the courtyard and stood to block Elizabeth from Anne’s glare.
A woman across the court dropped her water pail, and a man pulled the reins of a horse to bring his cart to a halt. Even the hammering of a nearby blacksmith stopped, leaving only the scent of fire and hot metal in the sudden silence.
More onlookers gathered by the second, as though drawn by the sudden commotion. Ivory’s gaze swept across the villagers, some standing with mouths agape while others whispered amongst themselves. She looked at her own disheveled appearance, and then over to Elizabeth, who had dressed in such haste that her bonnet was crooked and her apron loose.