Excalibur's Seven | ✓ [LGBT]

~ 20 ~

THE BANSHEE'S CRY WAS familiar to Morgana, he heard it before his mother died. But it didn't make it any more comforting. Even after the sound was gone, it rang through his head.

Even with the dread the banshee screamed into their hearts, they had to continue on. Their screams, as horrifying as they were, were merciful. They were rarely a warning of immediate death, so they could only hope it wouldn't come quite so soon.

It hurt Morgana to know it would come eventually, though. Banshees were never wrong.

As much as he claimed to dislike his new companions, he couldn't lie to himself. He cared for them, and the thought of losing even one was too much to think about. He pressed onward, leading them along.

Chalice had the map out again, but they held it with shaking hands. Without thinking, Morgana placed a steadying arm on the druid's shoulder, looking up at them with eyes as reassuring as he could muster.

They smiled, but it didn't reach their eyes. They tried to put up a tough front, but it was cracking. It was something Morgana knew all too well.

It took them a long time to finally reach their destination. It was now the deep of the night, and he could only hope that adrenaline would keep the humans awake. They couldn't afford to take breaks in these woods, and sleep would leave their minds just as vulnerable as the rest of them.

They broke through into a meadow full of bright flowers and glowing butterflies which fluttered around the ground, lighting up the grass and dirt at their feet, illuminating the fog. Somehow, he felt safer here, like he was shielded by something. But the shield was weak, as though it had been forgotten for centuries.

"The lake should be here," Chalice said softly, breaking the silence no one dared to cut through since they entered the forest.

Despite their words, not a drop of water was to be seen.

"It was guarded by a 'stone protectress,'" Giselle whispered. "Maybe we should look for that."

Perhaps the Unseelies who found the "jewel" long ago were not so wrong about the goddess. Though the jewel likely had nothing to do with her, he wondered whether the lake did. Maybe that's why Morgana felt a sense of protection. He was Unseelie and in the territory of his ruling deity.

He could feel it getting stronger, then weaker, then stronger again as they carried on. It was like a game of hot and cold, he realized. "Follow me," he whispered, and led them where the feeling took him.

By the time it was at its strongest, they reached another clearing, where the moon shone down through a break in the trees, lighting up the ground. There was a cliff before them, one that stood out above all the rest.

"That's her, that's the protectress," Giselle breathed. As Morgana looked closer, he could see it, too. The stone took the vague shape of a woman, vines curling down like hair, a distinctly stone-shaped sword pointing to the ground, resting beneath what must've been her hands. There was a face, too, and her eyes were wide open, like she was watching.

The only problem, though, was the distinct absence of a lake. Only cliff, crawling with vines and trees thick enough to cover any surface of stone apart from the woman.

He stepped towards the cliff, and the feeling he had grew stronger, but so did the feeling of dread. He placed his hand up, touching the hard surface of rock, but instead of rock, his hand slipped through the flora.

"Wait a minute." He took his cane, pushing it through the vines, but it just went further through, never touching rock. He yanked it down, tearing an entrance through the thick greenery, pulling at it with his hands.