Fallen

Chapter 5: The Witch of Wolfmarsh

Sylas stumbled over mossy rocks. They covered the ground and lumped closely together. A panicky kind of sick swept over the prince. His head swam. Sweet sunlight shone through a dense forest of thin trunks, surrounded by mist. The air was sweet, and song birds chirped overhead. Sylas inhaled shakily. Crwys stood a short distance off.

“Where am I?” Sylas asked.

Crwys turned and walked away.

Sylas followed, the silver comb still clutched in his hand. He took in the surroundings. “Are we in Kilbarry?”

“It would be a mistake to tell you.”

“Why?”

“You have no knowledge of the new world you are going to face. Best keep it that way.”

They walked in silence a while longer, picking their way over the uneven terrain. The ban sídhe paused before the largest tree Sylas had ever seen. It would take at least five men to hug the trunk. The ancient roots clawed through the earth, rounding visibly above ground, and clutched a smooth white boulder at the base of the trunk. The stone bore gray patches and reminded Sylas of a full moon.

Crwys turned and spoke a word Sylas did not recognize.

Sylas’s eyes widened as the stone rolled back. A black, gaping hole opened behind it. “What is that?”

“Your people call it Tairseach an Ghealach. Portal of the Moon. One of the many gateways to the Unliving World. The darkness behind it is Conair na Marbh, the path of the dead.” The woman looked over her shoulder. “Are you ready?”

“I’m going to die now.” Sylas felt the blood drain from his face. His knees weakened.

Crwys turned and extended a hand. “The comb please.”

Sylas passed it to her shakily and exhaled hard.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Sylas’s heart pounded. He turned and looked the way they had come. This was it.

“It’s not too late to change your mind.”

Sylas swallowed. His thoughts turned to Ciatlllait. “What would happen if I said I was having second thoughts?”

“I would snap my fingers and you would be home. The king would stand here in your place. Quite unexpectedly, I might add.”

Sylas leaned over, bracing his hands on his knees. His hair slipped forward and curtained his face. He shut his eyes tightly. Sionnach was a beloved ruler. The country would suffer without him. Séan would claim the throne, but the world would never be the same without Sionnach. I can’t imagine a world without him! Sylas thought. I love him so. A hot tear slipped down his cheek. But Laittie… my Laittie.

Crwys broke his thoughts. “It is now or never, my prince. I cannot hold the door forever.”

Sylas choked back a sob and blew out another breath. Do the right thing. He pinched the bridge of his nose, then realized who did that. Blast. I’m my father’s son after all. He laughed in spite of himself and brushed away his tears. He straightened, gazing at this living world.

“It will be easier if you believe you are already dead,” Crwys said. Her voice was surprisingly gentle. “Come now.”

Sylas swallowed and swept back his hair. He turned on his heel. Crwys extended her hand to him. He stared into the abyss.

Have you ever had the feeling you’ve forgotten something important when you walk into a room? Or gone somewhere and can’t remember why? There’s a reason for that feeling. A part of you has died. Sylas had this feeling when he looked behind him. Up a steep slope, a tree with a trunk that would take five men to hug stood over a silver boulder that reminded him of the full moon. It rolled back over a gaping hole large enough for him to pass through. He blinked. Something gnawed at him inside. It felt like those times one walked into a room, and had suddenly forgotten why. He couldn’t remember what had just happened. One moment he was in a remote part of Kilbarry with Crwys, the next he stood on the shore of a silver lake. Everything appeared silver, actually. A mixed range of silver, gray, and black. It had its own beauty. Trees like his own world, but mostly colorless.  Crwys moved toward a rowboat.