CHAPTER 3: The Séance

"I'm going crazy and I need urgent help."

Ònààra chuckled, leaning back on her velvet armchair, listening to Evelyn pace the living room like a trapped cat.

"Do not laugh at me, Ona. I'm serious."

"Here," Ònààra said, handing her a mug filled with a cold, dark liquid. "Drink this. It will help with your nerves."

Evelyn sniffed it and grimaced. "What is this?"

"Herbal tea," she said with a wink. "Trust me. It helps."

Ònààra was the only person Evelyn could talk to without fear of being labeled insane. From the first day they met, there had been an odd connection between them. Over the months, they'd grown close.

Ònààra had always been different, ornamental, always adorned in beads, strange threads, and cowries that jingled softly when she moved. Evelyn never questioned it. She thought it was just cultural. Aesthetic. Beautifully strange.

Tonight, though, was different.

Evelyn poured out every bizarre detail of how she would plan her day and end up somewhere else. How she'd find herself standing before people she'd never seen before yet somehow knew by name. How the dreams were no longer just dreams.

Ònààra listened in complete silence.

Finally, she stood. "Come with me."

Evelyn blinked. "Where are we going?"

"To see my other side."

She followed Ònààra through a narrow hallway lit by scented candles that lined the floor. The waxy flames danced, casting long shadows that wavered like ghosts. Evelyn felt a strange chill brush her spine.

"What do you mean by other side?"

Ònààra didn’t answer at first. "I knew what was happening to you the moment you put that ring on," she said quietly. "But you wouldn't have believed me then. You need to see what I see."

They passed two white doors. Then stopped at the third - a red door.

Ònààra opened it.

Evelyn gasped.

The air inside was thick and sweet, like a forest after rainfall. Candles flickered from every corner, their flames swaying like whispers. The scent of herbs and smoke filled her lungs.

Animal skulls lined wooden shelves, their hollow sockets fixed in eternal watch. Colorful feathers hung from threads in the ceiling, swaying gently. Herbs burned slowly, curling into the air.

In the center of the room was a low wooden table draped in deep red cloth. Crystals sparkled in the flickering candlelight, casting soft rainbows across the dark room. A large drum rested beside it, painted with symbols Evelyn couldn’t understand. Strange objects surrounded the space, carved animals, bowls of water, stones that glowed faintly.

Evelyn turned slowly. "What are you?"

Ònààra smiled and gestured toward the table. "A shaman. Sit."

Without waiting, Evelyn took her place on one side of the table. Then, with a stick of chalk, Ònààrà drew a wide circle around them, marking it with strange symbols and dots.

Ònààra lowered herself slowly on the opposite side of the table, Evelyn sat there wide-eyed and stunned.

“It’s time you met her,” Ònààra said.

“Who?”

“The one person you’ve been dreaming about. Celine is trying to return through you.”

Evelyn jolted back. “What?!”

“All the visions. The memories. They're not yours. They're hers.”

Evelyn stared at her, shaking her head slowly. “No... that can’t be."

“Give me your hands,” Ònààra said firmly.

Reluctantly, Evelyn stretched her hands forward. “Great. A witch for a best friend. Fantastic.”

Their hands locked.

The candles flared.

Ònààra began. “Celine, if you are present, come forward. We invite you. Make yourself known.”

A stillness fell over the room. Even the fire in the corner seemed to hold its breath.

“Celine,” Ònààra continued. “We call you not to harm, but to speak. Come into the light."

A sudden gust of wind blew through the room, though no windows were open. The flames danced wildly. The herbs sparked and hissed.

Then a soft sound was heard.

A whisper.

"Evelyn..."

It wasn’t Ònààra.

Evelyn's grip tightened as fear took over her.

The crystals on the table shook.

And then she appeared.

It started with a shimmer in the air, like heat rising off the ground. Then a faint silhouette took form at the edge of the room. A feminine figure.

She was draped in white, blood stained, her veil floating as if underwater. Her eyes glowed faintly. Not evil, not angry, but heavy with sorrow, with rage. Her presence was cold and commanding.

Evelyn gasped. “That’s her. That’s the woman from the dreams.”

Celine stepped closer. Her feet made no sound.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” her voice echoed, layered and distant. “But I must be seen.”

“Why me?” Evelyn asked.

“Because you found what was mine. The ring. The door.”

“What do you want?”

Celine didn’t answer immediately. Her face changed from beautiful to broken to bloodied and back again.

“Justice.”

The word rolled out slowly. Heavy.

“Someone stole my life,” she whispered. “Now I want it back.”

She paused.

Her glowing eyes shifted slowly to Ònààra. “You know the path. You know the names. Help me come back.”

Ònààra didn’t move. Her face was calm but firm. “You’re asking for more than just a favor.”

Celine gave a slow, sad smile. “I’m asking for peace for my soul.”

Ònààra narrowed her eyes. “What do you need from me?”

“A guide. A voice. A way through,” Celine whispered.

“You’ve helped others cross over... now help me return.”

Evelyn sat frozen, her eyes darting between them, heart thudding in her chest.

Celine turned back to her. “And you, Evelyn... you are my anchor. Through you, I see. Through you, I will be seen.”

Evelyn’s lips trembled. “And if I don’t want this?”

For the first time, the soft glow around Celine dimmed. “Then I wander. Alone. Trapped. The one who ended me... walks free.”

And just like that, she was gone.

The candles calmed. The fire settled.

Evelyn blinked, gasping. She was shaking.

Ònààra reached out, steadying her.

“She’s gone now,” Ònààra whispered.