Page 79 of Sharpen Your Claws

“Mortals.” Arden made a disgusted face, then put at least ten steps between himself and the group.

Evera guided them through Bloodbane to Sorrows Well. Every fae lord commanded their domain from somewhere. Alvina did so from what most would perceive as an ordinary well. Perched between two slanted burr trees tilted toward one another in a dance, the well sat inauspiciously, stacked ten stones high. Evera stepped onto the ledge, leading to a hole wide enough for a body, but too deep to see.

“What are you doing?” Henry asked. Then Evera fell into the shadows, and Arden jumped in afterward.

Charmaine lurched toward the well, peering within, then looking at Nicholas for answers.

“Go on,” he said. “This is the entrance.”

“We’re expected to jump in?” she asked.

“Yes, you’ll be fine.”

Henry hefted his pack and stepped onto the ledge. William couldn’t get his disagreement out before Henry shouted, “Look out below,” and jumped.

“This is mad,” Charmaine muttered while shakingly standing on the edge. She took a breath and followed.

He grabbed William’s hand and eased him onto the ledge. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“Why can’t fae live in a normal house?” William asked.

“That is so boring.”

“But at least it’s pleasant.”

He chuckled, then William let go of his hand and jumped. He followed immediately, falling through the darkness, then slowing to a stop. In a blink, the shadows faded and ethereal blue light illuminated the narrow dirt hallways. The facade was smoothed into obsidian darkness. Stones embedded in the ceiling covered them in the blue light. William stumbled and caught himself on the nearby wall.

“What a… lovely home,” he said. In front of him, the rest of their group waited.

“It is.” Evera nodded behind her. “Amos is nearby.”

The halls of Sorrows Well were long and winding, changing at random intervals. Much like Hill Castle, the halls changed of their own accord, coming and going, opening to the sky or digging to the harsh rocks below. Creeks ran along the ceiling, clear water so one could see the fish swimming above, and yet nothing dripped upon them.

The hall led into a deep library, six floors below. The glowing stones circled into a spiral and threaded themselves between the carved shelves full of scrolls and books. Evera descended the wooden staircase to a circular room where Amos sat at a table digging through scrolls. He was so fixated on them he didn’t notice Evera until she called. Amos stood tall, realizing that he wasn’t alone.

“You’ve brought unwelcome guests,” Amos hissed with his attention landing on Nicholas.

Evera glowered. “They may not be so unwelcome. What’s wrong with Bloodbane?”

“This is not a conversation to have in front of them.”

“We’re here because something is wrong in Terra, too,” Henry said, earning a worried glance from William. His brother forced a smile. “Now is the best time to be honest with each other. Something is very wrong, and it’s affecting all of us.”

Amos was likely about to say something smart when William interjected, “There are shadowed disciples kidnapping mortals and bringing them to Faerie. I know of seven, but there are certainly more.”

Evera tapped a claw against the scrolls. “You’re looking for answers, too. Whatever is happening must be stopped, or we may lose Bloodbane for good. This has something to do with Mother, doesn’t it?”

Arden knocked a set of scrolls out of place. They clattered loudly across the floor, earning Amos’ murderous attention. Arden kicked those scrolls aside nonchalantly and kept digging, as if he cared about anything in the library. However, his actions put anger on Amos’ typically stoic face.

“She has been acting odd,” Amos admitted without looking away from Arden. “More paranoid than usual, double checking her alliances like she expects a great evil to befall us, or rather one worse than what we’re seeing.”

Amos stepped away to snatch Arden by the wrist. Arden heeded the warning and retreated, letting Amos travel between the shelves. The group followed, witnessing the destruction before Amos settled his hand on the wall. A great scar ripped through the wall. A scent like death fell from the wound, making the ground soft so Amos’ shoes sunk in the mud.

“I cannot imagine what she is up to, but it’s getting worse by the day, and she won’t speak to me about it. If what you’re saying is true,” Amos looked at William, “Then perhaps our mother is to blame. You’ve visited at the perfect time. She’s bedridden.”

“Bedridden?” Evera repeated. “Whatever for?”

“She wouldn’t tell, but she’s weak enough to be in bed the last three nights. I suggest you speak with her before that changes.”

---