Darkness, utter darkness, had a sound. A heavier sound than silence. A suppressive ache behind eyes and over ears. A void that fit the exact shape of Emrysa and held her in its fierce clutches.
It lasted a moment and a lifetime. Four blind paces forward. An intake of breath. Hands reaching, floundering.
Then a snap as a branch broken under foot cracked the silence open. Emrysa blinked as her surroundings came into view. She lowered her hands.
Where am I?
A night-time wood surrounded her. Thick and dense and all but dead. No leaves grew on these branches. No grass underfoot. Just the smell of death and decay and a sinister breeze that wrapped its way around her limbs. She looked for the dragon spirit but it was nowhere to be seen in the blackened sky. She couldn’t feel it. Wherever her dragon heart had gone, it had not gone to this realm. For the briefest of moments, she was momentarily awed by her brother’s science. It was indeed a form of magic.
“A multi-dimensional portal?” Emrysa considered aloud. Her voice broke the stifling silence. Then followed the slither and creaking of branches blowing on the wind. No, not blowing, reaching. Reaching for her. She backed away, but poisoned vines continued to inch their way toward her, creaking and groaning as they did—wrapping themselves around her ankles while heavy thorn-laden branches bowed down, grasping.
She flicked a hand to cast the strange branches away, and they did so with a shrill scream. But nothing else stirred in the woods. No birds flocked away from the sound. No crickets or beasts. Frantic, Emrysa continued casting away the vines trailing up to her knees now. She placed a hand on the weathered bark of a tree to steady herself as she wriggled her leg free, but the bark under her hand moved at her touch.
She pulled away, looking at the tree then her hand gooey with a slick, tepid liquid. Emrysa gasped, her palm was covered in black, but there was something else, something worse than the stench of death on her hand. Etched in the tree bark, where her hand had once been, was a face, twisted and contorted in a tortured, silent scream.
She should move away, she knew she should. Run. Flee. But she didn’t. Curious with morbid fascination, Emrysa stepped forward, inching her face toward the bark.
So slowly she couldn’t tell if it was really happening or a figment of her imagination, the eyes within the tortured tree-face rolled toward her, groaning like a rotten floorboard as they did.
She gasped.
It moved again, quicker this time, another painful and agonized silent scream, as if the face wished to make itself heard now it had an audience.
“What is this place?” she questioned, backing up, spinning. Gasping.
Now her eyes had grown accustomed to the gloom, she could see the horror of this place. Every tree had a face formed in its bark, each one a picture of terror. Like snapshots shuttering in and out of focus, she saw them. One, two, ten, a hundred. Creaking began again, the slow, insidious reach of dark branches and vines. She spun, breathless, but something else caught her eye, stopping Emrysa from fighting off the clutching vines.
Blackness. A solid mass of blackness surging angrily into itself, hovering about the ground.
The dark force hurtled toward her. It had no shape, just a mass of black and a terrible feeling of dread. It swirled with a thrumming noise laced with threats, getting louder as it raced forward.
She had no time to think. She had no time to run. She had nowhere to run. But on the blackness hurtled, screaming now, piercing her ears, ripping deep at her bone marrow. It pulled at her fraying soul. And then another pull, a yank.
A hand on her hand.
Darkness. Nothingness. Silence. Then the light and sounds of her own world flooded back and overwhelmed her.
Emrysa fell as she was sucked out of the portal with an audible pop. Not onto ground, but onto Merlin who groaned beneath the force of her fall.
“Oh, thank the fickle and menacing Goddess of luck! We got you back.” Dermot offered her his hand. “We thought we’d lost you.”
Clumsily, she rose, accidentally pressing one hand against Merlin’s nether regions as she pushed herself up, causing him to groan all the more. Dermot could hardly contain his excitement. He had been working on his wormhole for as long as Emrysa could remember. He had never achieved a full portal opening. Nothing had never gone through... and certainly nobody had ever come back out.
“We made a sort of human chain to pull you out but...” Dermot trailed off, noticing the haunted look in Emrysa’s once vibrant eyes. “What happened? In there? Where were you?”
“Where’s the dragon?” Nimue asked.
But Emrysa shook her head. Silent. Even if she wanted to answer the bombardment of questions, she could not. What happened in there could not be summed up with words, and she didn’t ever want to think about where she had been and that unrelenting force that hurtled toward her. She staggered, finding the need to sit before her legs gave way under the weight of her experience.
She grabbed a chair, flicking off the broken glass and the remnants from the beast’s chaos with her hands, too tired to spell cast. She sat with a humph, then, gaining some small amount of composure, looked up to her brother.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Me? I am absolutely dandy, you raving plonker. You on the other hand, look like a disheveled scullery maid—” he turned to the wide-eyed, wild-haired maid in the room. “No offence, Rhian.”
By the way the maid’s red cheeks flushed with breathless wonder, Emrysa knew Rhian must have joined in the human chain to help pull her back into their world. She gave Rhian a wan smile, who returned the gesture with her characteristic awe.
“Blimmin’ heck, Miss, if that weren’t blimmin’ exciting!” She smiled, exposing a charming gap between her front two teeth. The freckles upon her nose stretched across the canvas of her face with the width of her smile.
Emrysa could not help but to smile back. “Thank you for your help, Rhian. As always, I am indebted to you,” Emrysa said, and they both held a gaze full of unspoken secrets. Had anyone been paying close attention, perhaps they would have noticed. But thankfully, the events had turned everybody’s mind to other things.
“Your dragon heart is gone, but where is your dragon?” Nimue pressed and Emrysa sighed. At least the prissy bitch didn’t seem to want to kill her anymore, but that didn’t take away the sting—because of the pale witch, Emrysa feared she would never again feel whole again. She would always be a shell, her soul untethered. Alone. Or worse—she thought of the terrors she discovered in the other realm—not alone.
“No more questions,” Merlin said tenderly. He pressed a hand to her forehead, and she closed her tired eyes. “You’re burning up. You should get some rest. The questions can wait until the morning, can they not?”
Emrysa groaned in appreciation, and her tiredness was so deep, she could only make out the muffled sound of conversation, but not the words themselves. She just wanted to sleep. To fall into a black hole and be reunited with her soul spirit once more. Perhaps in her dreams, this was possible. It was her brother’s voice that came into focus first.
“Come, I’ll lead you,” said Dermot. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re asleep before I tell our parents of the events.”
Emrysa cringed. “They won’t be happy that I’ve done this.”
“The miserable old biddies are never happy, sister. Now, come.” Emrysa smiled at Merlin as he moved his hand from her forehead and flashed a warm smile that melted her heavy, empty heart. In a daze, she allowed her brother to lead her away to her chamber.
Merlin followed them from the alchemy chamber, then stopped and watched the Chevals walk gingerly along the corridor, farther and farther away from him. He didn’t have the heart to tell Emrysa that a nagging fear remained within his bones. He heard the laboratory door close behind him but didn’t look back for Nimue. He could do without her pushing her aura all over him this evening. But they did need to inform the Council that their work here was done. The dragon hear
t had been dealt with, though no doubt, it would raise even more questions. He turned to make his way to his own chamber, knowing sleep would elude him no matter how exhausted he felt.
Wrapped up in their own thoughts, nobody noticed the tiny spot of the portal behind the lab’s closed door had not yet sealed together.
A spot. A dot, nothing more. And nobody noticed the dark, formless mass the color of dread seeping through that tiny gap into their world.
Nobody, except Nimue.
Part II
“To start a rumor, one needs only an element of truth. Ensure one central fact, and no matter how outlandish the lies surrounding it become, they will believe. They believe because the Whole Truth is inconceivable, while lies can be shaped perfectly to fit the mind of the receiver.
The danger in rumors and lies depends on the venom and delicacy of those who fabricate these dangerous tapestries. It helps, also, if the one who starts the rumor has sweet lips, and a sweeter face. And if her venom is aimed at another with even more beauty than she, all are likely to agree.
The one thing the world loves-to-love more than a pretty face, is to hate it.”
—Emrysa Cheval
12
Midnight Shadows
Emrysa found no comfort in her luxurious bed. Sleep eluded her, no matter how heavy her eyelids. Every time she closed them, the tree faces screamed their silent scream and her eyes shot open once more. The memory—the rush of the darkness—clung to her heart and made it pound. The moon was low in the sky, rising late and offering little light through the small window. Only darkness bled its way through, creeping up to her bed, threatening to smother her.
Quiet footsteps made their way toward her chamber door, accompanied by a warm glow filtering through the small gap between door and ground. The footsteps stopped outside. A dark shadow stilled in the low light. Emrysa waited for the knock.
Her parents perhaps, though she hoped not. She no longer had the strength to stand resilient. Her brother more likely, unable to sleep after the day’s events like her? Merlin, she hoped.
The door creaked open. She held her breath.
It was not who she was expecting.
“What do you want?” Emrysa spat, pulling the covers around her.
Nimue said nothing, just glided forward, small candle held aloft. She didn’t ask before perching herself on the end of the bed. Nimue paused, her haughty nose stuck in the air.
“You think you’ve won by ridding yourself of your dragon heart,” Nimue said. Emrysa remained silent. “And I would congratulate you, if it wasn’t for the madness you have created.”
“Madness?” Emrysa scoffed. “What are you talking about? I have got rid of the thing, so you and your prissy little Council can no longer threaten me. So, yes. I have won.” Yet despite her words, Emrysa felt only loss. “You may go now. Go on, off with you!”
Nimue didn’t reply immediately, instead, she pulled her pretty face into a thoughtful grimace that made Emrysa want to punch it.
“Do you know where you went? In the portal?” Nimue asked.
“No.”
“Hmmm.” Nimue paused for a long while and Emrysa found herself disquieted by the silence. Eventually, the pale witch spoke again. “Do you know what you brought back with you?”
“Brought back? I didn’t bring anything back, except my family’s safety.” But Emrysa’s mind flitted to those nightmare silent screams etched into blackened bark, the mass of darkness hurtling toward her before Merlin pulled her back into her world.
“Mmmm,” Nimue said.
Emrysa sighed with frustration. “If you’ve come here to tell me something, just come out with it. Your riddles are setting my teeth on edge.”
Nimue leant in to Emrysa, eyes burning with such intensity, Emrysa didn’t know if the witch would kill or kiss her.
“Close enough,” Emrysa said, when Nimue’s face was only inches from her own.
The pale witch smiled sickly sweet, then whispered, “The Darkness is coming.”
For a moment, Emrysa was stunned into silence before a near aggressive laugh erupted from her throat. “The Darkness? What. Are. You. Talking. About. You. Stupid. Little. Wench?”
Nimue tossed the candle away, pounding both hands beside Emrysa’s head against the headboard. The candlelight fizzled out, leaving them caught in shadows and darkness. Nimue slithered onto the bed, straddling Emrysa’s body. Emrysa tensed but remained still as Nimue brought her face to her own once more. She felt the pale witch’s warm breath, felt her soft flesh against her own chest. But still, she did not move.
“You think you’re safe by ridding your dragon heart...” Now Nimue cupped Emrysa’s face in her hands. “But by coming back from that place, not only is your life at greater risk.” Nimue pushed her body harder against Emrysa, who gasped, breath quivering. “But you’ve put everybody’s lives at risk.”
Emrysa’s felt her pulse rising, her adrenalin soaring. She didn’t know why; she didn’t want to know why. Maybe it was the underlying threat beneath Nimue’s words. Maybe it was something else.
“You conducted a soul spell, didn’t you? It is forbidden.” Then Nimue grabbed Emrysa’s face to her own, parting her lips and thrusting her tongue violently into Emrysa’s mouth. This was nothing of the gentle almost-kiss with Merlin only hours before—the tender desire of something beautiful. This kiss was savage storms and torn hearts. Yet Emrysa allowed Nimue to continue grabbing at her, pulling at her, ravaging her. Hands and hair. Breathlessness and heartbeats.
Finally, Emrysa pulled back, “Stop! Stop.”
The witches glared at each other in the darkness, chests heaving.
“What are you doing?” Emrysa pushed Nimue from her, pushed the desire spell from herself too. “Why would you do that?”
“To give you a chance.” Nimue was back to her riddles again.
“Give me a chance of what?”
“To be on my side.”
Before Emrysa had a chance to bark her refusal, a deafening roar raced along the corridors outside. Louder than a thunderstorm over head. Louder than the tumbling of dreams and nightmares. A soul shaking shriek Emrysa recognized at once.
“Shit!” Emrysa shot up. “It’s here! The thing is here.”
“The Darkness,” Nimue said, knowing.
In a flash, Emrysa thought of the dark coalescing mass, the fear it produced, the dread it spread. It was here, in her world, she knew it as sure as her own dragon-less heartbeat.
“We have to warn everyone, quick!” Emrysa grabbed Nimue’s hand when the pale witch stood paralyzed to the spot. “Come on. There’s nearly a hundred people in the castle’s grounds. We need to warn them. We need to warn everyone.”
Emrysa had no idea what the Darkness would do, but she knew it would be bad. Really bad. She raced to the door, grappling the handle to pull it open. Nothing happened. She rattled the handle harder, the whirling outside getting louder. But the door remained shut, locking her in. She pounded her fists against the heavy dark oak, then gathered a spell to blast the door open. It didn’t work, but the boom sent both Emrysa and Nimue flying to the far end of the room.
As they rose, unsteady, the thunderous echoes disappeared along the hallways and corridors as quickly as they came—the silence left in its wake deep and dark. Unnatural.
“I hate to say this,” Emrysa said, straightening her thin nightdress, “But we’re going to need to tell my parents. And they’re going to kill me.”
“Well, it will save the Council a job,” Nimue said, raising an eyebrow with the smallest of smiles—not a mean smile. A real smile. Emrysa balked.
“Don’t tell me... Did you just... tell a joke?”
“Perhaps.”
Emrysa shook her head. “Well, will wonders ever cease?” She motioned to the door. “Come on, let’s try again.”
They both scarpered across the room but before they got there, heavy footsteps pounded toward them. Several sets of footsteps.
“Emrysa!”
yelled Dermot.
The door swung open, and Dermot came to an abrupt halt, his face etched in agony. “Emrysa, come quick, I’ve found Mother and Father.”
His tone, his face, it was all wrong and Emrysa’s blood curdled, turning cold and hard. She grabbed his hands. “Where are they?”
“It’s not where are they, but what they are.” Dermot paused but his hands made frantic shapes as he tried to formulate the words.
“Spit it out, Dermot, for the Goddess’s sake!” Emrysa yelled. “What are they?!”
“They’re dead,” Dermot yelled back, running his hands through his hair. “They’re dead, Emrysa.”
13
The Stench of Evil
She didn’t wait for Dermot to explain, she just ran, lightning swift toward their parents’ chamber—ignoring the sense of foreboding lingering in the night-time air. Ignoring her brother’s plea to wait as he, Merlin and Nimue followed quickly behind.
Where are the guards? There should be guards! But the corridors were empty. No panic. No confusion. No worried maids and servants scuttling around. No Cheval men of arms rallying. Just an eerie silence bar the heaviness of her breath and the beating of her dragon-less heart. She finally reached her parents’ chamber door and paused. Upon it, a black mark sparkled like cobalt, singed deep into the thick mahogany wood.
“What is that?” she thought aloud, tracing the mark with her fingertips; two crescent moons back-to-back.
It burned and something deep inside of her yearned. She jumped away.
“What is that?” Dermot repeated between pants as he reached her.
“Step away,” ordered Merlin. “It stinks of evil. Nobody touch it, it’s insidious.”
Emrysa wiped her hand on her nightdress, not wanting to admit she had already touched the mark, hoping she could somehow wipe off its stain.
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