After the storm, Carlos, Jacinta and their seven children had lost everything. Their house had been completely destroyed, forcing them to remain on the temple grounds.

Many other families from the community had suffered the same fate. Those who shared the faith moved to the sacred grounds as well, and together they built wooden houses and began rebuilding their lives.

Carlos was the babalorixá of the temple, the priest and leader of a community that had formed out of loss.

Jacinta was not happy.

For her, living on the grounds of a Candomblé and Umbanda temple had nothing sacred about it. Carlos knew how his wife felt, so he built a small chapel for her. He carved a Nossa Senhora Aparecida with his own hands and made sure that every day candles were lit and fresh flowers were placed on the altar.

He respected Nossa Senhora Aparecida. He believed her blessings were upon his family every day, even if Jacinta refused to believe the Orixás could stand beside her.

“Carlos, we need to go back to our house. Rebuild it and go on with our lives.”

“This is our house, woman.”

“No. These are the grounds of your temple. This is not our house.”

Carlos looked around them.

“Look around, woman. Twenty-seven families live here on sacred soil. We have a happy community. We have everything.”

“No, we don’t.”

“What do you mean, we don’t?”

“We don’t have the blessings of God. We are living on the grounds of gods that are evil.”

Carlos stared at her.

“How can they be evil, Jacinta? Every day we have fruit. The ground gives us vegetables. The sea is generous. Iemanjá gives us fresh fish, Oxum gives us fresh water. Our houses are strong and protect us. The children are growing strong and clever. We even have a school now. Every child here knows how to read and count.”

“That is the problem.”

Carlos frowned.

“What do you mean, that is the problem?”

“The children are growing up learning the ways of your culture.”

“And that is bad?”

Jacinta lowered her voice.

“Maria is speaking alone.”

Carlos almost laughed.

“She is two years old. She barely speaks. It’s sounds and a few words so we understand what she wants.”

“It’s sounds and a few words when we are around. When she sees us. When she knows we are listening.” Jacinta stepped closer. “When she thinks she is alone, she speaks to somebody.”

Carlos stopped smiling.

“Living here is making her see things,” Jacinta continued. “She speaks with those devils she sees. We have to go back to our home. I need her away from these evil entities.”

“Nonsense. What you are saying makes no sense.”

“It does make sense. I saw it.”

“What you think you saw is your imagination and your prejudice against my religion and the Orixás.”

“No. I saw her. Come with me and I’ll show you, but you must be quiet. We cannot enter her room. We have to watch from outside.”

“You are making no sense, woman, but fine. Show me this thing your prejudice has created.”

Jacinta took Carlos by the hand.

They followed the path behind the wooden houses that had been built for the community until they reached their own. They stopped where they could see through the open space that served as a window.

Maria was standing inside her crib.

She was smiling.

One little hand was raised in front of her, her fingers moving as if she were touching something.

“I don’t see anything strange,” Carlos whispered. “She’s a toddler.”

“I’m telling you, Carlos. Look. She is touching something.”

Maria smiled wider.

“And she’s talking. Come closer, but don’t make any noise.”

They moved nearer to the opening.

Maria’s voice reached them clearly.

“Janete will have the babies tonight. Two boys.”

She paused, looking at whoever stood in front of her.

“But one will die.”

Carlos looked at Jacinta.

His face showed no surprise.

Maria continued.

“Senhora, you need to do something. You cannot let one of the babies die.”

Carlos leaned away from the window.

“Maria is shy. Maybe she doesn’t like speaking in front of adults.”

Jacinta stared at him.

“And what she is saying is probably fantasy,” he continued. “Children invent things. I heard it on the radio. Imaginary friends.”

“Carlos, this is not fantasy and it is not an imaginary friend. It’s a woman. She speaks with a woman, and the woman has a name.”

Carlos looked back toward the window.

“What’s her name?”

“Zita.”

For the first time, Carlos said nothing.

Jacinta watched him carefully.

“I understand,” he finally said. “I need to consult Exu about this.”

“No, Carlos. We need to leave.”

“We will not leave.”

“Carlos—”

“Go find something to do, woman. And prepare everything needed for tonight’s birth.”

Jacinta stared at him.

“What?”

“We need to save the child. Nobody is dying on these sacred grounds.”

Jacinta knew that look.

There was no point discussing anything with Carlos once that expression appeared on his face. Something had already been decided inside him.

She walked away.

Carlos needed to clear his mind.

He entered the sea and asked Iemanjá for clarity. He stayed in the water until the noise inside his head disappeared, then returned to the temple grounds knowing what he needed to do.

He sat with Exu.

And listened.

When the time came, he was ready.

“Baba!”

One of the women came running toward him.

“Janete is in labour.”

Carlos stood immediately.

“Jacinta, take everything you prepared for the birth. I’ll get Maria.”

“No.”

He turned.

“Maria stays here.”

“Jacinta.”

“She is two years old. Why would you take her to a birth?”

“Stop discussing everything with me and do what I told you.”

Jacinta opened her mouth.

Carlos raised one finger.

“And for the rest of tonight, keep your prejudice and your cruel thoughts to yourself. I don’t want to hear another word about my religion, my gods or the people of this temple.”

Jacinta went silent.

She knew she had crossed the line.

As she turned away, one question followed her.

Was she really cruel?

Were her thoughts cruel?

A tear escaped before she could stop it. She wiped it away quickly and went to gather everything she would need.

When Carlos entered Maria’s room, she was standing in her crib waiting for him.

He stopped in front of her.

“I know you can talk, Maria. You don’t have to hide from me.”

Maria looked at him.

“Yes, Father.”

Carlos felt something move through his chest, but his face remained still.

“You said a baby is going to die tonight.”

Maria nodded.

“No baby dies on sacred ground. If you were shown what is going to happen, there must be a reason you were shown.”

Maria watched him.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Then let’s go.”

When they reached Janete’s house, she was already screaming.

The baby was close.

Jacinta moved around her with the confidence of a woman who had helped bring many children into the world, but tonight her hands were not as calm as they usually were.

She knew what Maria had said.

Nonsense.

It wasn’t possible.

Maria was two years old.

She was speaking nonsense.

Carlos brought Maria closer.

“Maria, this is Janete. The woman you were speaking about this afternoon.”

“I know, Father.”

Janete looked at the child between contractions.

Maria pointed toward her belly.

“She has two babies inside her.”

Janete almost laughed despite the pain.

“Impossible. I would have known. I would have felt it. The entities would have told me.”

Maria looked at her.

“The entities told you a baby would be born. They didn’t tell you that you were pregnant with only one.”

Everyone became quiet.

Then Janete laughed.

“She’s a child. It’s fine. I’m not going to take it seriously.”

The next contraction stole the laughter from her mouth.

She screamed.

The baby was coming.

Half an hour later, a beautiful boy entered the world.

Alive.

Healthy.

Crying.

The room relaxed.

Janete lay back, exhausted and smiling as she held her son against her chest.

Jacinta cleaned her hands.

“Rest for a few minutes. Then we’ll deliver the afterbirth.”

Janete nodded.

Everything was calm.

Except Maria.

She had not stopped staring at Janete’s belly.

Jacinta noticed.

She moved closer to Carlos and whispered into his ear.

“You were right. It was fantasy. An imaginary friend.”

Carlos didn’t look at her.

“Wait, woman.”

Jacinta frowned.

“It isn’t over yet.”

Janete suddenly gasped.

Another contraction.

She looked at Jacinta.

“I think it’s the afterbirth.”

Jacinta took the baby from her arms and placed him carefully in the crib.

Then she pressed her hand against Janete’s belly.

Her expression changed.

The belly was still hard.

Too hard.

She looked at Carlos.

Carlos understood immediately.

He looked down at Maria.

“It’s your turn.”

Maria looked up at him.

“What should I do, Father?”

“If something showed you the outcome, you fight for another one.”

“But what should I do?”

“You ask the woman who speaks to you.”

Maria hesitated.

“I must ask Zita.”

“Is Zita the witch?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Then ask the witch.”

Janete screamed.

This was not her first birth. She knew enough to understand immediately that something was wrong.

“What’s happening, Jacinta?”

Another pain tore through her.

“Tell me what’s happening. Please. I have three children. I cannot die.”

Maria stepped closer.

She began to speak.

Nobody understood the language.

Carlos had never heard anything like it.

Outside, the animals began to react.

Dogs barked.

Birds exploded from the trees.

Something screamed from deeper inside the forest, followed by another sound and another until the entire night seemed awake.

The sky, clear only moments before, began filling with thick grey clouds.

Wind rushed through the open doorway and slammed it shut.

Janete’s husband and children had been standing outside watching through the entrance. Now the wooden door stood between them.

Carlos moved behind Maria.

The little girl placed one hand on Janete’s belly.

“She needs to squat.”

Jacinta looked at Carlos.

“Do it.”

Jacinta helped Janete move into a squatting position.

Maria kept her hand against her belly.

“The baby won’t come the normal way.”

Janete began to cry.

Then her body changed.

The screaming stopped.

So did the crying.

Her eyes remained open, but something inside her seemed to move somewhere else. She breathed deeply, making sounds nobody in the room had heard before.

Maria turned toward her mother.

“Mamãe, get ready.”

“For what?”

“The baby.”

Maria began speaking in the unknown language again.

Her left hand rested on Janete’s shoulder.

Her right hand lifted.

Her fingers closed around something.

A hand.

Nobody could see it.

Nobody except Carlos.

He saw Maria’s tiny fingers wrapped around empty air.

And behind her, he saw Exu.

Standing.

Watching.

He did nothing.

He was simply there.

Guarding her.

Carlos understood.

Whatever was happening with Janete belonged to Maria and the woman she called Zita.

Exu was there for his daughter.

The birth took almost an hour.

Then a scream cut through the house.

Not Janete’s.

A baby.

His cry filled the room like a declaration of victory.

He had been born feet first.

And he was alive.

Jacinta took him with shaking hands.

Janete collapsed against the women holding her upright, sobbing as they placed her second son against her.

Two boys.

Both alive.

Everyone moved at once.

The babies needed cleaning. Janete needed attention. The afterbirth still had to be delivered. Water was brought. Cloths were changed. The door was opened again and Janete’s husband almost fell inside trying to reach his wife and sons.

Nobody was looking at Maria.

Except Carlos.

He saw the wind die.

He heard the animals fall silent.

He watched the grey clouds separate above the temple grounds until the night sky returned.

And then he looked at his daughter.

Maria was still standing beside Janete.

Her hand had fallen away from the invisible one.

Carlos stopped breathing.

A strand of Maria’s hair had turned white.

Then another.

And another.

The colour moved slowly through the curls around her face until streaks of white ran through her dark hair.

Maria looked up at him.

Carlos said nothing.

Neither did she.

Ksenia opened her eyes.

Maria was still sitting in front of me.

My fingers were still resting against her lips. The fingers of my other hand were still pressed against my own.

For a moment I couldn’t breathe.

Nothing in the room had changed.

The chair.

The walls.

The night outside.

Maria.

My eyes moved from my fingers against her mouth to her hair.

White.

Slowly, I looked back at her face.