Whitney Writes…

This is a short story inspired by the Slovenia entry for Eurovision 2024, “Veronika” by Raiven.

Ripples of light reflected on the stone ceiling high above her. The air was cold, damp. Her head throbbed, and it seemed as though every bit of her ached. The cavern was dark, tiny pinpricks of torchlight piercing the darkness randomly, like stars in a night sky. It made Eloise realize just how large the cavern must be. There was the faint echoing of water dripping, slowly.

She attempted to sit up. It was a mistake, and the room wobbled before her.

A cold hand rested gently on her shoulder, the long fingers curling elegantly over the front of Eloise’s shoulder. The nails were long, filed to a careful point, and painted a shimmering burgundy. The palm was clammy, damp, but Eloise could tell those fingers belonged to a woman. She stared at them, mesmerized. She had not realized there was anyone in the chamber with her.

“Be still,” said a melodic voice behind her. There was a hint of an accent Eloise could not place to the other woman’s voice. “You have suffered quite a bump to the head, you must be dizzy.” Eloise’s vision swam before her once again. She couldn’t remember having been anywhere that would have resulted to… this… being the outcome. Hadn’t she been dress shopping? Or was it stationary…

The icy fingers squeezed her shoulders. “Calm yourself, little one,” she said again. “You have been through so much in such a short time.” Eloise’s heart began to race. She began to turn her head to look at the woman behind her. “No,” the woman said firmly, “sleep now.”

Eloise’s vision faded as her eyelids fluttered closed.

When next she woke, Eloise found herself in another chamber. It had the same aesthetic as the previous chamber, stone ceiling, water reflecting upon the ceiling, eerie darkness. But it was distinctly different. It was occupied by more than Eloise. There were around ten other women in the chamber.

To her relief, no hand appeared on her shoulder when she forced herself upright. And her vision remained still. There was a swirl of pain through her head, but it subsided quickly.

“Where am I?” she called out to the room. None of the other women looked in her direction, nor gave any indication to having heard her. Eloise cleared her throat and tried again. “Who are all of you?” One woman nearest Eloise paused, but resumed her task of making her bed without a glance in Eloise’s direction. Eloise frowned. “Where is she?” she asked again.

The woman nearest her, who had briefly paused her bedmaking, hushed Eloise. In the blink of an eye, the woman was before her, her hand clamped over Eloise’s mouth. “We do not ask such things,” the other woman hissed.

“I do not understand,” Eloise said, her voice muffled beneath the other woman’s hand.

“She hears all,” the other woman replied, her voice an urgent whisper. “Even now, when she is on the hunt, far from here.”

Eloise’s brow furrowed. On the hunt? “When can I go home?” Eloise asked. “She mentioned I had a head injury; I am feeling much better, and I would like to return home.”

“You are home,” the other woman said before turning away from Eloise to continue her bedmaking once more.

Eloise pulled her legs up beneath her skirt, her knees coming to her chin. There was a sinking feeling enveloping her. A doomed feeling. She had so many questions, but it was becoming more and more obvious to her that she would find no answers here. At least, not from these women. She wondered if she could slip away, what she might uncover if she were to wander the other caverns that very likely connected to this one and one she had initially awoken in.

She had just made up her mind that she was going to make a run for it, when she felt the sudden shift in the room. The air felt heavier, an unshakable chill descended. The other women, starting with the one nearest her, that had deigned to speak to her, were all turning, one after another to look at her. Their eyes were cold, blank, empty.

One of the women on the opposite side of the one whom had spoken to Eloise began to emit a low, melodic sound. The woman beside her picked up the melody in a higher tone. The song rippled through the chamber in a wave towards the door at the far end. Eloise watched it being carried from one woman to the next.

Another sound began to rise. It was echoing off of stone further away, Eloise doubted it was even in this cavern in which she stood. It made her blood chill and she felt lightheaded. It was the sound of men screaming in agony. The women around Eloise’s song rose to a fever pitch, and all of their darkened eyes turned towards the sound of the screams. Every fiber in Eloise’s body was telling her to flee, to panic. But there was something about the way the women were singing, the calmness. Was it… excitement? The skin along her arms prickled.

Just as suddenly as the song had begun, it was extinguished – along with the screams – and all of the women resumed the tasks they had been doing. Eloise watched, baffled by the behavior.

“What… was that?” Eloise asked quietly of the woman who had told her she was home. The woman looked up at Eloise, almost as though she were surprised to see her.

“It is the song of our lady,” the woman said simply.

“Our… lady?”

The woman nodded. “Yes,” she said, “Veronika.” She set the chemise she had been folding on top of the small pile beside her. “She is our great lady that looks after us. That was her hunting song.”

“Her… hunting song?” Eloise hated that she felt as though she could not poise any useful questions, merely repeat the other woman’s words back at her.

“Oh, yes,” said the other woman. “When she hunts, we aid her when she closes in on her prey. Our song bolsters her powers. She is our siren, our beacon of light in the darkness.”

“And… and those screams?” Eloise ventured a question of her own finally.

“The men she has captured previously,” the woman said simply. “She keeps them after, for us. When we sing to aid her, it strikes fear in them, feeding us in return.”

Eloise did not like the sound of any of this. She swallowed nervously, emitting an audible, childish gulp.

“Do not worry, dearest,” the woman said sweetly, “our lady Veronika will not harm you.” Eloise did not know how she knew, but she knew this woman was telling her honestly. Whomever this Veronika was, no harm would befall Eloise by her.

Suddenly, the doors to the cavern flung open with a gush of icy, damp air. Framed in the darkened doorway, was a tall woman. She had long, white-blond hair, that hung in waves far past her waist. Her face was pale, but bright with excitement as she held out a hand in invitation to the women in the room. She wore a black cloak that obscured her body. Eloise noticed that at the end of her out-stretched hand, her long, talon-like nails, were a dark, shimmering burgundy. The skin of her hands, to Eloise’s alarm, was a sparkling, iridescent silver. However, the silver was slowly retreating up her fingers and hand, leaving her pale skin behind. The women of the cavern all clambered in joy as they fell to their knees before their Lady Veronika. Eloise dumbly followed. The cloaked woman began to move into the room, kneeling before each woman in turn, gently lifting their chins to kiss the crowns of their heads before lifting them back to standing as she, too, rose.

“Who… exactly… is your lady Veronika?” Eloise finally whispered her question that had been burning in her throat.

“We are,” the other woman said, motioning to the cavern around them. “I am.” She gestured to herself. “You are.” She gestured to Eloise.

You can find the translation here, via EurovisionWorld. This song hooked my imagination right away, and has never let go. Did you envision something different? I’d love to hear about it!

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