Ascension

For it is by the Mother's hand that the ground upon which we stand was spared from the wrath of the falling star, so shall it be by her will that we return to her as a wisp in the wind.

-Book of Ellham 7:12

✦

ASCENSION EVE: MIDDAY

The song of bluebirds echoed between the jack pines and across the lake. The water hadn't yet turned warm enough to turn the trout away for their migration upstream. Nestled in trees, cicadas proudly hummed their anthem. And up, up, the cerulean sky endlessly bloomed over the Earth, protecting it in the golden sun's loving embrace.

June had fully awoken.

The Community was relishing in its glory: laughing children chased each other with worms hanging off the ends of sticks; women old and young chatted as they gathered blackberries off the thorny brush; men and soon-to-be-men stalked game deep in the trees, watching with eager eyes and watering mouths, waiting for their chance to catch supper.

Nobody had seen the Father for the past three days after he had disappeared into his tent, to prepare his mind and realign his energy so that the Mother may be pleased with his demonstration during the coming biannual ceremony. The remaining four Councilheads had joined the Father on the first day of Meditation, but had since then re-emerged and resumed overseeing the Community as usual.

Life was good here. Prophet Ellham would be proud of the Community if he could see how far it had come. Nearly seventy grown men and women continued to raise their eighty-odd young in the relentlessly alive forest in what used to be called Michigan.

And tomorrow, they would celebrate the preservation of their land, the salvation of their people—the survivors after the sky rock had blazed its path through the planet's barriers, destroying most of what had once been North America. Only an unsuspecting cluster of midwestern territories in the United States and a small chunk of former Canada had missed the impact. It was due to this miracle that the universe had extended toward the land surrounding Ellham Walker that the prophet had devoted the rest of his days to pursuing the approval of the one who had granted him a second chance at life—the Holy Mother, he called her—and restlessly spread word of her grace to whomever would hear him. Thus began the formation of what would become the Church of Prosperity. Twenty years after his death, the Community still adhered to the ways of the Church.

Abatha was a contented young woman. Like the rest of the Community, she found joy in fellowship, in partaking in the holy ceremonies and celebrations, and in the idea of one day having the honor of kneeling before the Mother, thanking her for the time she had been granted on this earth.

But of course, one must bear or sire a child in order to be granted eligibility for Ascension. It was commanded by the Mother herself that one must create life to be worthy to join her in the Homeland. And Abatha, three years after obtaining mating privileges at 18 under the Mother's Instructions, had still not conceived.

It was all she could think about as she and Aunt Megdalyn washed clothes on the lakeside. Ascension was tomorrow, anyway.

"Aunt Meg," Abatha started slowly, wringing out a tunic, "did you know my mother to have the same struggles I face with creating a child?"

Her aunt hesitated before adding another garment to her wicker basket, surprised by the sudden question. "Some of the pains you describe, especially the ones that occur during your cycle, were common in your mother during her youth. But they subsided by the time she was your age."

Abatha hadn't spoken of her mother in a while. She found herself mindlessly fiddling with the small, heart-shaped locket strung around her neck by a piece of leather. It had been her mother's, hand-crafted of zinc by her grandfather. During Abatha's childhood, her mother had explained how Papa gifted her the necklace with a cherry pit inside, to signify new life and new beginnings. The necklace became Abatha's when she was ten, just before her mother had been chosen for Ascension. Abatha kept the tradition alive by always having some kind of seed or kernel inside the locket.

Plunging another piece of clothing into the water, Abatha sighed. "I've been hesitant to approach Reuben with intentions to mate since the last time. He'd practically fled the tent once he saw the blood."

Seven years between them, Reuben was a solid man and a desirable mate, which made Abatha only feel worse when she could not satisfy him nor herself. He was already the father of Sister Pemma's little girl; but mate options were narrow, and he'd offered, anyway. But it seemed that no matter how much Abatha pleaded and begged the Mother to deliver her from the nauseating, burning pains that occurred during intimacy and her cycle, they only intensified as time passed. Occasionally, even before her cycle had come for the month, the fatigue and back aches would flare up. There were times when Abatha had thought her body had received Reuben's seed proper, due to the symptoms—until she bled again.

Aunt Meg finished her last piece of clothing and gave Abatha a melancholy look, meeting the girl's own woeful brown eyes.

"Come, Abbie," said Aunt Meg, hoisting the full basket up from the ground as she stood. "I have faith that the Mother will light a way for you, that you will one day soon be round with child."

Abatha blew a strand of curly, red hair out of her face, also lifting her basket to her hip. "Thank you, Aunt Meg. I only hope your words may ring true." But doubt still flooded her mind.

✦

ASCENSION EVE: NIGHTFALL

Nine hours later, the conversation with Aunt Meg hadn't left Abatha.

Reuben deserved to know of Abatha's suspicions. Tonight.

So she now stood in front of his closed tent, frozen as her heart thundered behind her chest. Sister Pemma had been kind enough to inform her of Reuben's whereabouts at this hour. Though the two had a child together, they did not share a tent.

She nearly decided to turn around and go back to Aunt Meg. Wait for Ascension, and then get it off her chest.

No. This had to happen now.

"Reuben?" she called. Almost immediately, the man emerged at the recognition of her voice.

"Abatha." That was all he said. His face showed no emotion. It only worsened the knot in Abatha's stomach. But he offered the open tent flap in suggestion for her to enter. She did.

"I assume this must be important?" he asked, following her in and sitting on the ground.

She swallowed. "I have something to tell you—"

"You're with child?" His face lit up like a candle at midnight.

This was a mistake. "No."

Reuben's expression hardened. "Continue."

"I…" Her words stopped themselves in her throat at those icy eyes. "I believe…my vessel…is incapable of housing life."

Cold silence. Then, "What is your meaning."

Abatha's breathing became rushed. Heat rose in her cheeks, her hand flying up to her necklace out of habit. "I believe our efforts in conceiving have been in vain, Reuben."

She had never seen him so closed off. So distant even when he was right in front of her.

"Good night, Abatha," he dismissed, unmoving. "And Happy Ascension."

✦

ASCENSION: NIGHTFALL

The entire community stood in a circle around the stone slab. It had always been there, never carved or altered by human hands, the perfect size and shape for its purpose. How lonesome it looked without a Trade lying across it.

The people hummed the same low note as the Councilheads pricked the ring finger of the right hands of everyone, including the children. Once they had rejoined the Father, flanking him with torches now lit, he lifted both of his hands up to the sides of his heads, resembling a gesture of surrender. The humming ceased in unison.

"During this full moon," the Father declared, "we once again commemorate and honor the Holy Mother, her selection of our people, and the wisdom of Prophet Ellham. For it was he to whom the Mother revealed herself and her teachings, so that we may be blessed to walk in her light. Prophet Ellham was the first to know the Mother, and he was the first to be with her in the Homeland. On the full moon of every half-year, we the Community under the Church of Prosperity follow in Prophet Ellham's mighty footsteps, guided by the Mother's Instructions."

The speech was the same every six months. Abatha could recite the Pronouncement in her sleep.

"And so," the Father continued with great suspense, "in accordance with the Mother's Word, we honor her in presenting our blood as a token of thanks for allowing us to engage with her in this most glorious Trade. You may now mark your foreheads."

The entire circle proceeded to place their pricked fingers to their forehead, smearing the blood in one small swipe down to the middle of their eyebrows. The Father's attention snagged on Abatha for a heavy, too-long moment, his ostentatious smile not quite reaching his ancient eyes. She only flickered back an upward curving of her mouth in return.

"We will now await the Mother's decision for this year's Trade," the Father continued, breaking his glance from Abatha. "As the Book of Ellham reads: O Mother, I will be your humble servant. For you guide the transcended souls by way of Ascension, so I will keep patience close to me until you call upon me. You give us the air to breathe so that we may multiply on Earth, only to populate the Homeland."

The circle once again began the drone of a hum as the Father closed his eyes and lifted his arms further into the air. The Councilheads closed their eyes as well. Everyone else was either doing the same or looking with anticipation toward the Father.

At last, the Father gestured for silence. "Abatha. The Mother calls upon you."

Abatha's stomach plummeted to the ground.

How could this be?

Every pair of eyes was now fixed on her, some faces in disbelief. Others in pleasant surprise. Her own eyes grew wide, mouth hanging open.

The Father only smugly grinned at her, a hand outstretched toward her from across the circle. "Come, Daughter, and Ascend."

Blood pounded between her ears, in her fingertips, matching the drumming of her heart. "But, Father," she began. "I have not yet succeeded in bringing life forth into this world. I—I have not contributed to the expansion of the Homeland."

"Come." That was his only command.

With a shaky first step, Abatha picked up her skirt and slowly, slowly advanced toward the stone. The Councilheads followed the Father with their torches, all of them wearing broad smiles, eyes glued to her.

The Father took Abatha's hand as she lay across the sacred stone's cold surface.

It was a miracle.

She was going home.

"The Mother has chosen!" The Father shouted, Abatha's hand still in his. The Community cheered around them. "Abatha, Daughter of the Church of Prosperity, enjoy your new life in the Homeland. So saith the Book of Ellham: For it is by the Mother's hand that the ground upon which we stand was spared from the wrath of the falling star, so shall it be by her will that we return to her as a wisp in the wind."

And it was the dark gleam in the Father's eye that was the last thing Abatha saw before the Councilheads' flames devoured her.