Matto climbs the porch stairs and opens the door for everyone. “Gather the bundle,” the chief orders. Odina nods and disappears into the kitchen, returning moments later with a woven pouch filled with sacred herbs—white sage, sweetgrass, cedar, and small river stones. She hands it to Ridge.
“This space must breathe, so what does not belong may leave.” He turns his head. “Dyani, open the windows.”
She boosts up each of the six, allowing the cool night wind to sweep the room. The curtains stir. Odina kneels at the center of the living room, laying down a hand-carved smudge bowl and placing the herbs inside. She and Matto arrange eagle feathers wrapped in red thread, facing four directions—north, south, east, and west.
Kota lingers at the archway—shoulders tight, palms clenched at his sides. His eyes move across the scene: the smoke bowl, the feathers, the waiting circle. It’s all very scary….and dooming to him.
Bly approaches him. “Come, Kota.” He places a hand on him back. “This is not punishment. This is your way back to balance.” They walk together to the center. Kota is positioned just beyond the smudge bowl—between the feathers. His chest rises and falls, full of apprehension.
Bly hands him a river stone. “It’ll keep you steady.”
His mother meets Kota’s eyes, offering him an eagle feather. “For prayers,” she whispers. “You don’t have to speak them aloud, the Creator already hears.”
Chief Ridge lights the herbs in the smudge bowl. Wisps of white smoke float slowly, curling like breath patterns in the air. The scent of cedar and sweetgrass is thick. He removes his hat, bowing his head as the circle begins to form. “ᎤᏃᏴᏫᏯ, let this child return to harmony.”
What if the Great Spirit judges me? What if I mess this up? I did kill…killing is a sin…a dark mark. I’m no longer pure. Maybe the Creator is mean. Maybe… it doesn’t want me whole again. Kota hyperventilates, losing his nerve to hopelessness.
His father places a steady hand on his shoulder. “Breathe, son. The Creator listens—not with anger, but with knowing. There is no judgment, only the path back to balance.”
Everyone speak low and rhythmic: “Udalvltanv tsusquaganasdi.” (Balance…bring balance to the one who walks in shadow).” Odina fans the smoke with a feather, directing it toward her son. Kota stands still, too worried to move while the ritual is taking place. The others pass the feather in gentle, clockwise motion, sharing the piece and repeating the words.
Ridge holds the feather near Kota’s chest, waving the smoke gently upward. “Let the old fall away. Let the spirit breathe clean. Cleanse the body. Restore the spirit. Call the soul back to center.”
Kota rests his eyes, his hands shaking—but he doesn’t step away. He doesn’t run from fear. He needs help. He relaxes his worries. Taking in the warm smells of cedar and sweetgrass. All is tranquil…even the odd chanting…everything is steady. But…not for long.
The windows start to rattle. Booming wind pounds in. The chief flinches from the sound, bewildered by the belligerence outside. The curtains ripple flaring inward. A massive gust of air. The drapes rip from the rods and flatten to the walls. Strikes of lightning wash over the house. Pure white blazes through the clouds; unnatural and vigorous. The ground quakes.
Kota’s eyes blacken. Ridge shudders, dropping the bowl to the floor. All of the sheriffs, including Bly, out their handguns from their belts.
Matto panics. “NOO!!” The guns fire. The bullets blast the air, zipping Kota’s way. Matto rushes forward. His hands write across the air, carving a glowing spiral shield. The radiant mark pulses wide, protecting not just Kota, but Dy and his wife too.
The bullets collide midair. POP—CRACK! Sparks scatter as each metal round ricochets on the magic barrier. Each round deflects in a burst of white until silence drops like a hammer.
“STOP THIS!!” Odina shouts. “PLEASE!!”
“The Creator has abandoned him! Has abandoned you all!!!” Bly hollers. Kota’s pitch-black pupils remain intact, not converting back to normal. Frozen in place. “Look at his eyes!!! Tsul ’Kalu has taken him!!” The Cherokee Devil. “He’ll bring curses upon us all!” The lightning blinds the room, accompanied by chaotic thunder. The storm outside rages on something deadly. “We must kill him!”
“Killing will release the evil!” Ridge contends. “I obeyed the right of ritual. It has been denied by the Spirit. Your boy is no longer of our kind.” His ruthless eyes fall onto Matto and Odina. “Leave Tahlequah and never return. You have until midnight.”
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