Lamias

The Lamias are uncanny, amphibious figures whose appearances link a dream of empty child coffins to the storm surrounding Amaia Salazar’s confrontation with Markina. First seen as a dozen young women beside a river, they deliver a repeated demand for cleansing; later, their remembered words give the storm a voice as Amaia faces the possibility of betrayal and asks whether Markina killed Jonan Etxaide. Their presence remains suspended between supernatural visitation and the force of Amaia’s own perception.

Identity and Appearance

Amaia identifies the figures as Lamias after they appear in a dream beside the river. They are presented not as a single apparition but as a dozen beautiful young women, dressed in lambskins that barely cover their breasts and thighs. Their long hair nearly reaches the water, where their feet are submerged. The dream gives them a strikingly bodily presence: they smile with teeth sharp as needles and strike the still water with webbed feet, making it bubble as though a fire burned beneath it.

The scene follows a transformation. Amaia had first seen a little girl she now recognizes as her dead sister, rather than as a childhood version of herself. The girl points toward the riverbanks, where white flowers have opened. Their scent recalls cookies and butter to Amaia, who recognizes in it the smell of Ibai. When she looks back, her sister has vanished and the Lamias occupy the water’s edge. The dream shifts from intimate family recognition to a disturbing encounter with figures Amaia calls witches; neither image supplies a simple explanation for the other.

The Dream and Its Demand

The Lamias’ message is terse and imperative: the river must be cleaned, and the offense washed away. Their paired commands make the river more than scenery in the dream. It becomes the place where an unresolved wrong is to be confronted, though the Lamias do not explain what the offense is or how it can be repaired.

The dream turns that demand into a concrete and unsettling image. The white flowers become pale coffins for children, which tremble as if their occupants are struggling to escape. Their lids burst open, but the coffins contain nothing. The Lamias do not cause or explain this emptiness within the scene; instead, their appearance and injunction frame it. The juxtaposition leaves Amaia with a vision in which a call for cleansing meets the absence of the bodies that should give the coffins meaning.

Recurrence in the Storm

Later, Amaia remembers the river when speaking with her aunt. The Lamias’ words return in her mind as a refrain, not as a new, fully described apparition. Amaia considers the possibility that an exceptional sighting of a mythic creature might have a reason that continues beyond the crimes under investigation. Her aunt agrees that a reason may persist, but expresses fear of the doors Amaia’s search could open and where it might lead her. The exchange keeps the Lamias’ significance unresolved while making the search itself feel dangerous.

During Amaia’s confrontation with Markina, the language returns amid thunder and lightning. As Markina speaks of loving her and belonging to her, Amaia hears the storm as the arrival of the Lady, associated with Mari. Markina turns toward the entrance as if he, too, has heard the Lamias singing to their mistress. The narration does not establish that the women are physically present: their voices may be heard through Amaia’s perception of the storm, while Markina’s movement briefly makes that perception seem shared. As the rain intensifies, it becomes the lament of the region and of the Lamias, again demanding that the offense be washed away.

Narrative Significance

The Lamias connect two moments separated by the movement from dream to confrontation. In the dream, their command accompanies empty coffins; in the storm, it accompanies Amaia’s discovery of a painful truth and her questions about Jonan Etxaide’s death. The repeated words do not solve either mystery. Instead, their recurrence makes the earlier dream feel like an unresolved warning that has followed Amaia into the present.

Their role depends on ambiguity rather than a confirmed explanation. They are named as mythic beings, yet their later presence reaches Amaia through memory, storm, and sound. The river, the empty coffins, and the demand to cleanse an offense gather around the same unanswered burden. By allowing the Lamias’ refrain to surface again when Amaia presses Markina, the narrative makes folklore part of the emotional pressure of the scene without settling whether it speaks from beyond the characters or through Amaia’s own understanding of what has happened.