Cultural Identity and Coming of Age Theme Analysis

She trusted the wisdom of her parents and elders. Ellie had heard the dark and violent stories about human ghosts. They were rare and fleeting things that almost always left violence in their wake.

The thing was, she had never been able to understand why they were so terrible. Trevor loved his family and friends; how could death change that? How could anything from Trevor be cruel? It was inconceivable, and yet...

She withdrew her hand from the picture frame. Sometimes, the world was too mysterious for her liking; Ellie intended to change that someday.

It took a while, but the Leech was finally dead. Ellie had finished Six-Great’s task.

It should have been a proud moment, but Ellie also felt profoundly sad. The Leech was the last of its kind. The monsters of her ancestors had been replaced by different threats. Invasive creatures, foreign curses, cruel magics, and alchemies. Vampires were the new big bloodsuckers.

Ellie couldn’t use the rings, however, because all portal travel had to be approved and facilitated by fairy folk, and fairies didn’t like “strangers.” Strangers, in their opinion, constituted anybody without familial ties to at least one interdimensional person, commonly known as “fae.” That wasn’t Ellie. Every time she had to pay for an expensive airline ticket or miss a field trip, her disdain for the otherworldly snobs increased. It seemed cruel that humanoids from a different realm could discriminate against her—and others—on her own homeland. The “fair” in “fairy” didn’t stand for justice, however, and they didn’t care about any rules but their own.

Few things were more personal than a smartphone, so it was probably interred with Trevor during his traditional burial. Sure, their ancient ancestors hadn’t owned pocket-size computers, but tradition accommodated the adaptable nature of humankind.

Despite all of the warnings Ellie had heard her whole life, the fact remained: waking up a human ghost was like getting struck by lightning. Extremely unlikely but dangerous enough that precautions had to be respected. When it came to attracting electricity during a thunderstorm, there were ways to improve the odds. Fly an aluminum kite. Stand under a tall tree. Wave a metal pole at the tumultuous clouds. Likewise, if somebody wanted to wake up a ghost, they could repeat the deceased’s name, disturb their burial ground, or otherwise meddle with the dead person’s body, possessions, home, or family.

If the US had also controlled an army of dead hounds, there’d probably be no Lipan left alive. It was difficult enough to survive their deadly magic, powers that weren’t the same as ghosts. Magic came from an alien place, and the use of too much corrupted the natural state of the Earth. That’s what scientists were reporting, anyway. [...] In fact, that year, the Intergovernmental Panel on Magic Use, which was backed by over two hundred scientists, published a warning that excessive magic posed an existential threat, one nobody understood completely and very few people seemed to take seriously.

Ellie’s ancestors had known—hundreds of years before any report by an intergovernmental group—the damage magic could cause.

“If I’m right,” Dan said, “you won’t need to stop waking ghosts, as long as you’re mindful of the difference between the dead and the living.” He wagged a finger at Ellie, as if lecturing a class of rowdy toddlers. “There is a difference. The dead should not seem like kin. When they do? They might devour you.”

“Only one kind of monster uses guns,” Vivian said.

“He’s just one man.” Trevor leaned forward, rooted to the grave. “There are millions more who will continue to treat our family and land like garbage. Think of them like pests.”

“Pests...”

“Termites in your house. Locusts in your field. It doesn’t make any difference if you crush just one insect. The swarm will devour your home.”

Ellie always reasoned that Six-Great lived in a more violent era, one that transformed pacifists into warriors. Six-Great didn’t fight because she enjoyed it; she had to protect her family and friends from genocide.

There were still people to protect. That, Ellie now realized, would never change.

“Everything I do tonight will be for him. For justice.” The exorcist corpse’s head flopped to one side, as if trying to study Ellie with its cloudy eyes. “He loved you,” the emissary said. “He loved all his family.”

“I love Trevor,” she said. “Always will.”

“Someday, you’ll be reunited,” the emissary promised. “If you want that day to come sooner rather than later, interfere with my vengeance.”

“Vengeance?” she wondered. “Didn’t you say ‘justice’ a moment ago?”

“In this case, they’re the same.”

Vivian wondered if she’d made the right decision by bringing Ellie to the party. She admired her daughter’s courage. Of course she did! But the world presented too many opportunities for brave people to risk their lives. Wisdom helped reduce those risks; the inexperience of youth increased them.

“I guess I should start from the beginning,” she said. “When I was a kid, my parents took me to the pound. That’s where I met a dog...”

She’d say his name and tell his story. Maybe, someday, he’d follow the words home.

“There’s a lot I want to learn,” Ellie said. “My mother, her mother, and my grandmother’s mother taught me about the way of our land, our dead, and our monsters, but the times have changed. I need college to prepare for the next Willowbee.”