The small village was quiet in the crisp and cold evening air. Nobody was willing to brave the frigid wind as night was falling, especially not as the shortest day of the year was drawing to a close. Nobody wanted to be caught out during the longest night, even a few minutes might spell disaster and get you captured by the Pale Lady’s daughters. Nobody wanted that, no matter how much some of the village’s young men might joke that they would venture out and capture one of those daughters, show them what a real man was like. Arrogant prattle like that had almost become as much of a staple of the longest night as the other rituals, and yet, nobody ever dared to venture out into the darkness. It was simply not safe.
“Jeffrey, have you brought in enough wood to keep the fire burning throughout the night? We don’t want to get caught out,” Lilian, the mother of three, asked her eldest son, while she was preparing a generous portion of black pudding as a sacrifice. It was a recent tradition and replaced the old way of placating the Pale Lady’s daughters. In the olden times, the times of her mother and grandmother, the sacrifice hadn’t been black pudding; it had been a bowl of fresh blood drawn from every member of the house. Pain, to satisfy the Pale Lady’s malice and blood to quench her daughter’s endless thirst for blood.
“Yeah, we’ve got enough to tend it through the night,” Jeffrey promised his mother, quickly checking the stack of wood he had carried in earlier. It would be sufficient to keep the fire burning.
“Miriam, can you check on the soup? I’ve got to check the wreath, just in case,” Lilian continued, bustling around the kitchen, even after her daughter joined her, stirring the pot of soup on the fire. The wreath, woven from evergreen branches, twine and feathers they had collected over the year, was holding tight, ready to be hung on the door. It would hang outside through the night and then, after the sun rose in the morning, it would be placed into the fire, the last thing to burn.
“Aaron, what have you done with the candles?” Jeffrey asked, his voice angry when he noticed that the candles he had carefully prepared for all the windows in the house were missing. Leaving the windows unprotected from the darkness outside, allowing it into the house.
“I want to see the Pale Lady’s daughters outside!” the young boy called out, sounding far too happy with himself. Given that he had interrupted one of the many vital traditions governing the longest night, he was the only one laughing right now.
To survive, you had to placate the Pale Lady and her daughters, you had to ward your windows with candles and your door with a wreath to distract her feathered servants and, most importantly, you had to keep the fire burning, singing songs to Lady Sunna and inviting her back for another year. Nobody wanted to insult Lady Sunna; nobody wanted a repeat of the year without a spring. No matter how long it had been, the songs and stories of the year in which the sun had never shone remained, terrifying adults and children alike. And for that, the Pale Lady of Winter’s wrath had to be assuaged, or she had to be distracted.
The strife between the two Godesses was old, and, somehow, it was mortals to had to navigate the tense distance between them, always struggling to please the one they needed without insulting the one they feared.
“Where are those candles?” Marcus, the father of the family, asked, his voice eerily calm, the edge in it sharp enough to cut through any excuses Aaron might make.
“I’ve put them into the lowest drawer, hidden in the back,” the boy replied, his voice now fearful. Not scared of the monsters prowling around their house out, in the frozen night, but cautious of his father’s anger. Their father never lashed out at them, but all three children knew that there were boundaries one shouldn’t cross. Occasionally, they forgot, as was the case now, but ultimately, they all knew those boundaries.
“I’ll help you, Jeff,” Marcus promised, already pulling out the drawer Aaron had indicated. “And Aaron, you’ll sit there, and not move a muscle. We’ll see about your punishment in the morning; there's no reason to invite more trouble than necessary.”
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That alone was enough to make Aaron gulp in apprehension. Nobody was supposed to suffer during the longest night, as suffering might attract the Pale Lady’s attention. Merriment, light and songs were the tools to drive the frightful hag away, to keep Her and Her dread daughters from one’s doorstep. So, if his father withheld the punishment to avoid attracting Her attention, it wouldn’t be pleasant.
Maybe trying to get a glimpse through the unlit windows, out into the darkness of the night, where the daughters were supposed to dance with the freezing wind, had been a bad idea.
It didn’t take long for the candles to be secured in the windows and lit, reflecting off the glass and making it impossible to see outside. Only flickering flames were visible, protecting the people inside from the dancing daughters outside. Supposedly, their beauty was enough to enthral men and women, to draw them outside and into their dance, only to leave their frozen bodies in the morning. The daughters could dance in the freezing wind sent by their dread mother, but for normal people? For them, the dance was a deadly lure, enthralling and seducing even honest folk.
“Why don’t you start us off, Miriam, Lili?” Marcus asked his daughter and wife, sitting on the other side of the room. It was tradition to start things off like that, with men on one side, women on the other, though that would only last until dinner. It was, as so many things regarding the longest night, a tradition.
“Sure, love,” Lilian replied, giving her daughter a side-hug and smile, before suggesting, “Why don’t we start with the Hymn of Spring, something upbeat and hopeful?”
Miriam simply nodded in response as she returned her mother’s hug, and then, their voices filled the air. Their singing might not be practised or polished, but it filled the air, just as the warmth from the fire did, banishing the cold and the strange noises from outside.
With the singing filling the air, they couldn’t hear the slight rattling of the wind or the other noises, as natural and unnatural things outside tested their home, looking for any tiny opening to slip inside.
After the first stanza, it was the men’s turn, with Aaron, Jeffrey and Marcus picking up the song, while the two women watched, smiles on their faces. Together, they were sharing the warmth of family to drive away the temptation that danced outside.
Eventually, the first candle had burned down, indicating that it was time for dinner. Marcus knelt by the fire, tending it, while the younger children helped their mother set the table and Jeffrey made sure all the candles in the windows were still burning. As he performed that duty, he briefly glanced outside, his position close to the window allowing him a glimpse at the forbidden dance. He didn’t see much, just a momentary glimpse of white, billowing in the wind, and, for just a moment, he was tempted to go out, to see what might be hiding under those white garments. But just as quickly as the temptation came, he pushed it away, focusing on his important task. The candles couldn’t go out, or they might get all carried away into the cold and dark night.
Once everyone was seated around the table, Marcus led them in a simple prayer. They were thanking Lady Sunna for the pleasant spring that had given them a good crop and for sparing them an overly hot summer. The food on their table was a veritable feast, specifically prepared for this day with food they had saved over the year, to make sure they could be merry and had the strength to last the night. Somebody needed to tend the fire and watch over the candles, or they might face disaster.
The dinner was filled with laughter, even as they occasionally heard the house around them groan, and the daughters outside whine, rattling the windows to get in. Their joy and laughter would drive them away, just as the candles kept them safe within their cosy home.
It didn’t take long for the food to disappear, but the warmth and joy remained, carried with them back into their living room, where the songs resumed. They kept singing, hugging one another, sharing warmth and joy, even as they heard a thumping on their door, hoping that the sacrifice they had placed earlier would be enough to sate the monsters outside.
Finally, after the longest night had passed and the sun slowly made its way into the sky, Lilian opened the door, taking the wreath she had placed the evening before off its hook and carried it to the fire. There, the dry feathers and branches instantly lit, hopefully burning away any bad luck the Pale Lady and her daughters might have cursed them with.
“Let’s get some rest,” Marcus suggested, picking up his youngest son, who had fallen asleep at some point. They had endured the longest night, just as they had for many, many years. And they would endure again, as Lady Sunna and the Pale Lady continued their spat, arguing about the seasons.
