Uncle Bata was dying. 

She sensed it in every one of his coughs which grew more frequent with every day. His pale complexion told the story of a man whose days were numbered. It was just a matter of time before he would leave his frail body forever.

Zana knew Death better than most. From the day she was conceived, Death had been her closest companion. Mother told her the story of her conception, of her father, the man she brought back from the afterlife. Because of one night almost two decades ago, Zana’s future had been sealed from before she was born.

Even now, those pathetic screams followed her, the ghostly form of a murderer only a stone’s throw away as always, but these days, she learned to almost forget about his existence.

The Romans came to quash a rebellion that their little community had had nothing to do with. They had called them Illyrians, but that word didn’t mean much to their village, far away from the rest of the world. Their mountain was supposed to protect them, but it had been powerless against the army that came to pillage and rape and kill.

On that day, Death came to Zana twice. First, when a soldier with nothing but hatred in his eyes cut the throat of her mother. Zana could only watch her mother twitch in pain and shock as her soul left this world, Zana’s hands on her mouth, trying to suppress a scream that would lead to her death.

The second time, only a few minutes later, Zana herself invited Death. Without much thought, following the instinct she now knew to be revenge, Zana took a clay jug and smashed it against the soldier’s head with more strength than she thought her frame was capable of. After his body crumpled to the ground in an instant he never woke again.

At least, not in the world of the living.

Her mother had told her this would happen if she ever took the life of another. By taking Sergei’s life Zana bound him to herself; for as long as Zana lived, he would be stranded in the half-word of Zana’s creation, between the realms of the living and the dead, where only Zana could see him. Every moment of the past six years he had been by her side, somewhere in her peripheral vision, his screams and pleads for mercy echoing through her head, invisible to the rest of the world.

After the death of her mother, the uncle became her guardian. His daughters had left the nest years ago and married into better lives, leaving only Zana and her uncle to rebuild their existence after their worlds had ended for good. Together, they tended to their sheep and their crops, as he told her stories of her mother and father and of the magic that was all around them. She was far from the only magical creature on these hills, even if she was the only one of her kind. In the past years, despite everything they were happy together. Not even the constant screams of the damned man could take away from the semblance of peace that she now had.

Zana knew she should have gotten married too, like most other young women her age, but the suitors simply never came to claim her hand. Even those who might have considered her a good match must have known something was wrong with her, since they avoided her. She still looked like the weak and skinny fourteen-year-old child she had been on the day she first met Death.

Zana didn’t mind that. Marriage wasn’t something she cared about, as she took care of her uncle and other sick people in their little village just like her mother and her grandmother before her. Everything she knew about healing and magic she had learned from her mother. She knew exactly which plants or incantations were needed to treat which injury. The sense of joy and relief she would bring to the people of the village every time she helped one of them made her existence matter.

But Bata’s illness was beyond her abilities. Her intimate knowledge of death told her it wasn’t bad blood or demons of any kind. Tiny beings, too small for them to see, had made Bata’s lungs their home, rotting him from the inside. There might come a day when something other than magic could save him, but here and now magic was all she had.

She knew the incantations to heal him, but lacked the power to do it correctly. Magic was far too dispersed all over the land for her to accomplish such a feat, especially now that the illness had progressed so far. But, maybe she didn’t need to lose Bata forever. She had saved a man she hated before. Now she could do the same for someone she loved.

At the break of dawn, the rooster woke her up with his early morning song. She left their hut quietly, but Uncle Bata wouldn’t have woken up anyway. Last night had been a particularly rough one, his coughs full of pain that she could only ease a little with a weak plant concoction. Now that he was finally asleep, he wouldn’t awaken until the sun was high in the sky.

The village was still asleep as she made her way into the forest on the hill above it, her tunic wet with morning dew from the tall grass. The only noises taking away from the birdsong were Sergei’s screams, his relentless pleas to be allowed to move on, to make up for all the blood that he had spilled, but Zana had learned to almost not hear him.

This early in the morning, Vile usually still danced around the creek in the forest, but she must have scared them off. Some had told her she was beautiful enough to be one of them, but Zana knew they feared her. Solitude was preferable to their snide remarks and judgmental looks. Like it or not, she attracted magic to herself and they did not like to share. If she could, Zana would have taken all the magic from them, if that’s what it took to save Bata, but by that time, he would have been long gone. The thought of losing him was enough to force her to take his step, no matter how painful it would be.

She found what she was looking for with ease. On a morning just like this, and just a few days prior, she had realized what was the only way to keep her uncle with her, but back then she had been too weak to do what had to be done.

Beautiful purple flowers gave way to dark berries, the morning dew on them glistening in the faint sunlight. A few of these sweet purple pearls would be enough to turn her plan into reality.

No one would know. Bata was already a dead man, but this way, he didn’t need to leave her. One day, she would make sure those who loved her stayed by her side forever. One day, she would be the one to triumph over Death.

She was the only one who had that power, as her child. Death would never force her to say goodbye before she was ready. She would never hurt her the way she did on that day. One day, Zana would be the one to rule over Death, but today she would be satisfied with saving one person from its cold embrace. 

Tonight, Bata would eat the berries she picked for him, along with a few raspberries and wild strawberries. He would comment on their strange taste, but he would still eat them with joy because his Zana was the one who brought them.

In a matter of hours, his suffering would end. His body would be dead, but his existence would continue in the same half-world as the soldier. As long as Zana lived, he would never leave her side. She would not allow Death to steal another person from her.

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Zana’s Choice © 2024. Neira Fazlović

[EN] Neira Fazlović is a scientist and a novelist who writes books about ghosts, aliens and lesbians.

The short story Zana’s Choice was originally published in the Morina kutija, no. 7 (rujan, 2024). You can download it for free from our site or Smashwords.

[HR] Neira Fazlović je znanstvenica i spisateljica koja piše knjige o duhovima, vanzemaljcima i lezbijkama.

Priča Zana’s Choice objavljena je u online časopisu Morina kutija, br. 7 (rujan, 2024.). Časopis možete skinuti ovdje ili s platforme Smashwords.

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Urednički komentar: Teško je gledati naše najdraže kako pate, ali teško ih je i pustiti da odu. Neirina protagonistica pokušala je naći rješenje negdje na pola puta, a što je odabrala otkrijte u ovoj kratkoj i melankoličnoj priči o smrti.