Syrilth; A Dei Realm Tale

Chapter Three

The fire had dissolved to mere embers while I had slept, no longer strong enough to keep away the night that now crept into the room. I didn't dare to breathe. Didn't dare to move for fear that they would hear me and come for me, for the child I carried. My heart stuttered at the thought. Then again, as the beings whose cries sounded as if they were right outside my window. Tears fell as I trembled, swallowing the sobs that threatened to escape me. The shadows that climbed the walls around me loomed ever closer, hiding the evil that waited. I flinched as the screams of the dying soon joined the chorus outside.

Demons, they had shouted. Creatures of the World Below that hadn't been seen for centuries. The little knowledge we had of them said they had once been women, mothers specifically who had wrongfully lost their children. Grieving, they had first gone to the old gods of light for justice. When they had been turned away, they had gone to the gods of dark. All but one had told them no. His power was too weak though due to lack of believers, so Miien struck them a deal. Worship only him. Convince others to do so, and he would give them the power to mete out the justice they desperately sought. And so, they did just that. Except they were human, mortals never touched by magic before.

The more power the god gave them, the further from human they became. We didn't know what they looked like. No one had ever lived to tell the tale of their encounter with them. The first generation of guardians had banished them to the World Below after seeing the atrocities they had become, and over the centuries they dissolved into bedtime stories warning children from staying out too late. Yet they were here.

They're supposed to be just bedtime stories, I screamed in protest to the gods that had created these monstrosities. Stars flashed in my vision, my body protesting the lack of oxygen. Slowly. Carefully, I crept my hand up to my mouth to muffle the sound of inhaling. Exhaling. Inhaling. Exhaling.

Wood splintered downstairs, and I couldn't stop the desperate sob that left me. Hide, I must hide, I told my body that refused to budge. The building shook as the nightmare shrieked below, the hunger in its voice clear. Terror traveled over my limbs like wandering hands, holding me hostage even as dozens of running feet shook the building for a second time. Shouted orders were barely discernable over the creature's cries.

Helplessly, I stared unseeing at the door leading out of my room. Swords clanged jarringly against something sharp. Furious and desperate men challenged the volume of the demon's shrieks. I stayed put, waiting, and praying. As quickly as it started, it ended with a blood-curdling scream that ripped the air apart at its seams. My body tumbled to the floor; shallow breaths constricted my chest as I shoved myself underneath the bed frame. Aged wood tore at my hair, pulled at my cloak unrelentingly as it resisted my attempt to survive. There was nowhere else to hide. Nowhere else to keep my child safe, so I forced myself to move further even as I heard cloth rip.

Ice met my back as I curled myself tightly into the wall the bed stood against, winter's touch unmerciful. Tears blurred my vision as I covered my mouth to quiet the hyperventilating I couldn't calm. Time stretched endlessly as I laid in the dark, only able to watch the embers in the fireplace die. The scent of spilled blood tainted the air. I gagged at the taste of it as it filled my mouth, choking me with its insidious presence. Have they failed? Who have we lost this time? I wondered, tears spilling over as I heard wood strain on the stairs outside my door. Panic clutched my throat with a vice-like grip, made me go blind as I waited to meet death. I knew deep within myself, there would be no way to escape it once the demon found me.

Another creak of wood shifting beneath weight, except it was further away this time. I didn't dare to let it give me the courage to venture out. A moment later, the door screamed for me to run as it opened. Iron from the spilled blood wafted in, so thick I retched silently. Tremors overcame me as I stared unseeing, so strong I feared they shook the bed that half-heartedly protected me. I love you, Killian, I reached out to my Beloved, needing to hear him in my last moments. Despair strangled me. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I love you.

The warmth of his presence enveloped me at long last, his fear reminding me that our reunion was bittersweet. Syrilth, where are you? He demanded. I flinched, then went cold as footsteps made the wood scream for me again.

Run, it urged with each step. Run. Run. Run!

It's too late. I'm so sorry. I love you, I'm so sorry.

Syri-, I cut the connection abruptly when the footsteps stopped at the end of the bed. I braced myself for what was to come, ignoring the attempts from my Beloved to reconnect, refusing to let him experience the pain I was about to endure.

"It must be terribly dusty underneath there," a familiar voice observed in a wry tone.

My eyes popped open to see a blurry, pale face peeking back at me. The dark blonde hair told me it was Jonathan, and I cried out in relief. Instinctively I reached my hand out to him, seeking reassurance that all was well. That we were safe. He didn't hesitate to grasp my outstretched hand, carefully helping my trembling body out from its hiding spot. His hands hovered as I collapsed onto the side of the bed, the panic that had been lingering at the edges of my conscience now birthing into an unstoppable force. It began at the base of my spine, traveling swiftly as it smothered me.

I couldn't breathe, couldn't speak as I was transported to the past. The sound of flesh tearing as a woman cried for us to hide despite her agony. A creature's victorious snarls as it feasted. It all drowned my senses. The memory echoed in my ears as the present became the past. I hadn't been able to do anything then either, only able to stifle my cries as my mother had been murdered.

"Syrilth," Jonathan's voice filtered through the memories that gripped me. "Syrilth." Closer now, more distinct as the day from so long ago began to fade. "You need to stay with me, Syrilth. You can't go back," Jonathan urged calmly. "Your child can't handle the stress, come back here to the present."

His words were akin to cold water being dumped over me, nearly violently dispersing the fog the memories had brought. Sharp pinpricks of pain caught my attention first. During my panic, I had broken the skin of my palms with my nails, slow trails of blood now staining the sleeves of my tunic. Jonathan was already beginning to wrap them with bandages from my bags. The distressed furrow of his brow contrasted the calm tone he spoke with. "Once you're able to, we need to move. Injros and his men have taken care of most of the demons, but we can't trust the quiet. Not with the fence that had been protecting the village destroyed and so much blood shed."

"Don't use too much, I'll need my supplies for the injured," I reminded, though somewhat distractedly as I struggled to keep up. Calloused hands paused for half a heartbeat, too quick for anyone to truly notice. Except I had Jonathan for seven years, had been working alongside him all that time. I heard the words before they could even be spoken.

"Syri- "

"Do not ask me to leave them here to suffer," I bit out, my voice harsh. "Do not ask me to abandon my responsibility to these people and break the promise I've kept for nearly two decades."

Tortured hazel eyes met mine, hands squeezing my own. "Syrilth...," he began, then stopped. My anger flickered, something in his expression reminding me that healers could only save the living.

"Are there any who survived?" Despite the deep shadows enveloping the room, I noticed his jaw tighten. The quick, pained glance away. "No one?" I whispered; the words so heavy I could barely get them past my lips.

"Injros, most of his men, you and I," he admitted, the bitterness in his voice echoing the swelling emotions within me.

"We couldn't save anyone?" I choked, unable to believe it. Unable to believe our failure even as it bore down on me. Jonathan didn't speak, couldn't meet my gaze. The enormity of all that we'd lost finally sank into the depths of my soul. I'd been so focused, so distracted, so unwilling to see how inadequate we were becoming in this fight. But how could I escape the truth now?