The Last Sídhe

12 - Black and Crimson

The Críoch was exactly where I remembered.

I halted a dozen metres from it, sunk into a low crouch. Here, the ground was all stone and dry dirt; there were only a few lone bushes I could use as cover. A steep slab of rock formed a wall before me. At the bottom, a thin, dark crevice split the ground. It was from there that the Tremluí had come when me and my family had tried to pass. It was the door to their home. It had to be.

The storm had finally faded: above, the sky was a feeble grey-blue. Everything still smelled like rain. I lifted my head, sniffing the air. There was a subtle scent of blood, but I couldn't tell if it was from me or the entrance to the Críoch.

When a minute passed and nothing happened, I emerged from the safety of my bush and crept forward. The crevice seemed to grow bigger, its jagged mouth grinning up at me. Within it, I could hear the distant shuffle of movement, echoed by empty space.

A cave—and a big one, at that.

Strangely enough, there were no Tremluí at the entrance. I hadn't encountered any on my way up, either. Peeking over the lip of the crevice revealed nothing but a short drop to a stone floor, and then a rough path that wound into darkness.

It was obviously some kind of trap, but there was only one way in. I leapt in, landing with a soft thump. Flicking my tail side to side, I scanned the room I'd found myself in. A crudely carved stone doorway sat at one edge of the space, a language I didn't recognize etched across the frame.

I crept toward it, suddenly aware of the oppressive weight in the air. I wondered if Maeve was watching, floating about in some sort of invisible, ghostly form. Had she really been following me the entire time?

Focus, I thought, stopping before the door. I sensed the aura around it, black and thick. It was the taste of death. The one I now carried.

This doorway was the reason Maeve had died.

I ducked my head and darted forward. It felt like running through a sheet of cold water; I felt its icy beads trickling down my fur, freezing me to the bone. Then I was through, and the sensation faded.

It was a good thing that I was better at seeing through darkness than humans were. The cave had grown even darker, cut off from the sun's weak luminance. This section was shaped like a massive hallway, with another doorway at the far end and several branching paths to each side. A warped darkness emanated from the opposite side, but I was a wee bit too distracted to examine it in full. After all, there were at least two dozen Tremluí between it and myself, all in different, twisted forms, their red eyes eagerly fixed upon me.

Before I could so much as tense for a fight, shadows surged across my vision. I yelped and stumbled, spreading my paws to find balance as a foreign presence tore through my mind. An ancient voice, bitter and dense and evil, echoed in my skull.

You're dying, little one, it cooed. Why fight? Life is a pathetic blight upon this earth. Help us eradicate it, and we will ensure you live forever.

My eyes widened. The Críoch. That was the Críoch. I shook my head, sinking to the floor as its weight surrounded me. I couldn't even think; the sheer power of its presence was too great. It sunk its claws deeper into me, dragging me somewhere dark and cold.

I wasn't in my human form, so I wasn't exactly wearing the necklace; but I certainly felt the searing burst of heat that came from it. Something deep in my soul twinged at the sensation, but I didn't care. It was enough to burn away the Críoch's voice and snap my thoughts back into focus.

A sharp growl pierced the dank air of the cave. I whirled around as a Tremluí stalked toward me, bewilderment and anger clear in its gaze.

The realisation hit me like a wall: they had wanted me to pass through that door. I could've laughed. They'd thought that it would turn me into one of them. They hadn't expected me to survive.