Page 50 of Tales of a Monstrous Heart
These trees were different to the others. Instead of dark trunks and luscious green leaves that would survive even through this winter, the bark was twisted and pale, aged beyond its years.
I’d seen erosion like this before, on trees too close to the sea and salty air. Only something else was eating at these, something stronger than salt and sand.
My father had spoken of a time before the wars, that no matter how far he moved from the centre of Elysior, he couldn’t escape a feeling that chased him on the wind. A strange sensation of wrongness, a fear in him that couldn’t be quelled. Something brewing like a storm he couldn’t see, only for it to break in the form of a war.
I’d believed it to be a story, but now I knew it wasn’t.
Despite my instinct to flee, I moved even closer. The trees pressed together so tightly that beyond was nothing but darkness. An endless gloom that seemed colder than the rest of the village settled here.
I laid my palm against the bark, feeling it crumble beneath the slightest pressure, the dust catching on the breeze. Dead.
I crouched down, rummaging in my bag for my sample jars, picking up what twigs and soil I could. Each left a strange sensation against my skin, a cold sting that didn’t go away even as I tried to rub some warmth back into my fingertips.
A bitter wind tore past me, forcing me to turn out of it only to feel it snag at my hair, plucking strands of it free with its ferocity. I reached back with disappointment to find my ribbon gone.
‘Do you ever stay in one place?’ Emrys sighed, sounding flustered from behind me.
He stood amongst the trees, somehow more imposing than even them. A reserved expression on his face and the stormy nature of his eyes as he came to a stop next to me.
‘Something is wrong with this forest. I—’ The rest of the words died on my lips as I saw my ribbon caught in his fist. His hand extended towards me in offering.
Beware of demons in the woods offering gifts of silk and stone. The fable whispered through my mind. Taunting me. Stories of maidens lured with forbidden kisses to dwell in the deep with their dark lovers.
‘Thank you.’ I took it gently, ignoring the warm brush of his fingers. Averting my gaze and hating the warm treacherous flush of my cheeks. But as I dipped my chin to consider the damp earth between us, all warmth abandoned me.
A dead folk lay just before my boot.
A horrid cold grief washed over me at the cruelty of it. Carefully I crouched, gently letting the small creature roll into my palm. Its head was made of a small bird’s skull, its limbs of moss and small stones. All tinged grey, so cold as if formed of ice, the magic that had made it dead.
‘Marov,’I whispered in Kysillian.Rest now.
I ran my thumb over the skull, knowing it was too late for comfort as the creature became nothing but dirt in my palm, slipping easily through my fingers. Blinking back my childish tears, I looked to the hollow trunks of the wood, where they liked to hide.
‘Kat.’ Emrys reached for my arm cautiously.
‘I can’t see any more of them.’ I looked up at him, my fingers trembling, unable to wipe away the remains of what that small creature had been.
‘They’re … not fond of my presence,’ he replied carefully, dark eyes guarded.
I let him help me back to my feet before cautiously moving further into the wood. Emrys following silently like a dark shadow, reaching out to move the low branches for me and helping me over the thick tangle of roots. His firm hands brushing my waist, making our cold dismal surroundings more apparent compared to the warmth of his nearness.
I only stopped our wandering when I saw something peeking through the misty wood: the rubble of stone temples pressing through damp earth, runes carved on the smooth mossy stones. The ruins of sacred grounds. Fey temples.
They wouldn’t have been here in the times of the Kysillian Kings. Kysillians wouldn’t take kindly to worship of anything but their queen’s blood. To the chaos they wielded.
No, these ruins came after the ancient wars between chaos and death. Between Kysillian and Verr. Before the mortals arrived with their saintly King and corrupted the world.
This was a sacred place for fey to ask their ancestors for protection.
Yet unease crept through me as I moved through the overgrowth, seeing a simple flat stone of what remained of the altar. Fresh offerings still placed there. Animal bones, blessed crystals and herb bundles.
A shiver rushed down my spine that had nothing to do with the damp air. A chill not even the warmth of Emrys’s proximity could chase away.
‘Fey don’t leave their sacred grounds,’ I whispered, seeing that empty village and the evidence of how many had already abandoned it. Not unless all hope had failed. Just as folk didn’t just drop dead on soil that was made to protect them. ‘Something is wrong.’
Wrong with the earth. Wrong with the very creatures that lived upon it. Something in them turning from an unseen enemy. Something that didn’t exist in me. No, because I’d come before this. My blood knew too many things, knowledge it couldn’t give me with words.
Emrys stood there, and I knew whatever was in his blood must be as ancient as my own. Must be to endure this. To try an unravel the mystery we’d been left.
