The date was the 4th of December, 2022. It had been over three years since she died.

I trudged through the dark and silent woods, snow crunching beneath my boots. Although my thick clothes provided protection from the cold, they also slowed me down, something that greatly annoyed me. I had to hurry. If I was too late, I would have to wait for another year.

It must have been around 11:30 when I arrived; the moon was high in the sky. I had technically gotten there early, but there was no time to waste. I practically threw my large bag to the ground and began to quickly unpack and arrange my things. Most of them made the trip in bags, boxes, and other forms of packaging.

First things first: I opened a can of her favorite brand of paint. It was a sky blue shade, her favorite colour. I constructed a revised version of the circle I had done last year, tracing some old lines and ignoring others. Afterwards, I placed seven objects at various points along the edge of the circle: the paint brush I had used, a pressed musk rose, a slice of gluten-free strawberry shortcake, a dream catcher, a pristine Debussy vinyl record, a battered copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, and her old crystal ball. As the necessary finishing touch, I gently laid a photo of her in the circle’s center.

I looked towards the waxing half moon. It seemed to be closer to midnight now. I sighed, as that meant I would have to wait about two more hours.

That was the thing I hated most about this whole process. Around 11:30, seemed to be closer to midnight, about two hours. The time factor was too vague, so vague that it had almost single-handedly been the downfall of each of my previous attempts. I would have loved to bring my watch, but even a small electric current could have ruined everything. It essentially came down to an educated guess in the end.

My nervousness, at first a mild inconvenience, continued to grow as the moon descended closer and closer to the morning. Praying to God for success was not an option; if he existed, this would most definitely be an act of defiance.

At a certain point in the sky, I removed my scarf and cleared my throat.

It was show time. I took a deep breath and began.

“I, Araz Alfarsi, daughter of Naveed Alfarsi and Roshani Alfarsi, humbly request an audience with Cha’tima of the Forest.”

A moment of quiet passed, but it was soon ripped away by a biting wind. My circle and its items remained undisturbed.

A small gray light gathered in the air above her photo, eventually assuming the form of a bird.

“Must you interrupt my every winter slumber, little Alfarsi?”

“I can only hope this will be the last time,” I replied, hating how weak my voice sounded. “Is the waxing half moon in the place of the cloud?”

Cha’tima glanced upward. “Yes.”

So far so good. “I beg that you retrieve the soul of Manju Sharma, daughter of Kamal Sharma and Nila Sharma, and return her to the realm of the living.”

“You seek a great favor, little Alfarsi,” he said. “Then you must be aware of the consequences. What will you give in return?”

I paused to recollect myself. I had been preparing myself for this moment. I knew what I had to do.

“Once I am dead,” I began, “I will give you my physical body. You will be free to use my brain, my heart, my stomach, my liver, and my other reservoirs of energy as you wish.”

He didn’t answer. For a long time, he didn’t answer.

“...Would you sacrifice your soul?” he finally said.

I nodded. “Although I know that the fair folk have no need for human souls, I am willing to pay any price to have her at my side.”

“We may not, but we know those who do.” For a moment, I thought I saw a tiny smile flash through his eyes. “You don’t mind if I...take your seniors, do you?”

“No. Do as you like with them.”

“The deal is as follows: Araz Alfarsi will receive the soul and life of Manju Sharma in exchange for her post-mortem organs and the two souls of her parents. Do you accept?”

“Yes.”

“Very well. I hope you know what you’re doing, little Alfarsi.”

Cha’tima’s bird form dissolved into pure white snow. The snow was soon dyed with the sky blue paint, which became purple, then red, then pink, then white, then brown.

My beloved Manju lay before me.

“...A...raz?” Her voice was music to my ears.

I took out a small fork as I picked up the shortcake (thankfully, the most damage it had sustained was a thin layer of frost) and the musk rose. As soon as I placed the plate in her hands, she greedily devoured the slice.

Yup, that was her all right.

“Happy birthday, Manju.” I said, putting the flower in her lap. “Welcome back.”

She swallowed the last of the cake and looked at me. “What happened? How do you skip the whole month of November? I mean, I know I saw some super wacky stuff last Tuesday, but-”

“I’ll explain when we get home, Manju,” I told her. I removed my outermost coat. “Take it. You’ll need it.”

She eagerly wrapped it around herself while I moved to gather up her things. “Oh yeah, where are my clothes? Pretty sure I don’t leave the house in dresses that, like, go longer than my feet. That’s basically asking for an accident.”

My bag packed, I picked her up in my arms. “Then I’ll make sure you don’t have any.”

“Eee!” She squealed in delight. “Araz, you’re such a romantic!”

We engaged in small talk on the way back, mostly of what had happened in the November of 2019. I could barely contain my pure joy of being with her again. We’d finally get the life we deserved, whatever it entailed.

“...And that’s how I nearly blew up the kitchen.” I finished a (slightly exaggerated) story, eliciting a cute giggle from her.

“Hey, speaking of, you said we were going home earlier? Is it your place?”

“No. We’re going to your house.”

“Why not yours?”

I briefly paused. “My parents won’t be available.”

Mild confusion made its way across Manju’s features, only to be replaced with horror. The sight caught me off guard and I stopped walking. We had just reached the edge of the woods, and the lights of the town could be seen a bit below.

“No… You didn’t…”

I couldn’t stand the shock on her face and looked away. “So you remember?”

“Somewhat…” She shivered. “I-I know that your parents weren’t, uh...the best, but was it really w-worth it?”

“Absolutely.”

I dared to look back at her. She was staring out over the town.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“I suppose it is.”

Manju sighed and snuggled closer to me. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Araz.”