Syrilth; A Dei Realm Tale

Epilogue

A knock drew my attention away from the books haphazardly strewn about the table in front of me. It came again just as I began to dismiss it as a mere figment of my imagination. Light. Tentative. As if they were unsure. My knuckles turned white from my grip on the cane leaning beside me, fear sprouting in the pit of my stomach for the first time in months. Killian had traveled to the Fourth Kingdom a few days ago to help with the preparations of establishing the Ninth Kingdom once more. He shouldn't be back yet, I thought as I brought the cane closer. Yet the quiet knock that sounded through the tiny cottage again told me someone was most certainly here.

Honey? I couldn't help but to whisper even though only Killian could hear me.

She's there, came the sigh of relief. The fear grew, the foreboding that still haunted my nightmares creeping into my reality, as it had last winter. Two words. He had only spoken two words, yet I knew something was terribly wrong. Panic tunneled my vision, tightened around my throat until my breaths shortened. The gasps couldn't get enough air into my lungs.

Syrilth.

He never says my name, the panic realized, turning frantic as it sought to escape whatever was coming.

Ssh, it's alright. I'll explain soon. But you need to open the door for her.

Will you? Will you come back? The panic shouted, shaking me as it remembered. Alone. Unable to reach anyone as death had come for me, had stolen countless lives.

I promise. Until you know it's me, do not open the door for anyone else.

No one should be able to get this close to the cottage except for you and I, I wanted to argue, but I could tell he had become preoccupied with something else. When we had first arrived, Eleda had bordered the entire clearing the cottage resided in with defensive magic. Her magic recognized only other guardians, Killian and I. Yet from the way Killian had behaved, it wasn't one of his comrades. So, who was it? It should be impossible for anyone else to pass.

The foreboding left chills crawling down my spine as it whispered otherwise in my ear. I shuddered, then straightened, turning my gaze to the door. Slowly, heavily as I was still gaining strength back into my legs, I shuffled to the door. The dying sunlight lit pale hair, transforming it into a halo that caught my eye first when I opened the door. Blood splattered across a baby blue nightgown was the next thing I noticed, the stains already turning brown. Glazed over green eyes looked up at me, yet didn't see me. She's gone into shock, I noted. I calmed the panic that urged me to frantically check over my niece, sinking into the methodological instincts all the years of training had instilled. "Damaris? Are you hurt anywhere?" I asked gently, sweeping my gaze over her once more in search of any obvious injuries.

Black figures peeked through where her sleeve was torn. I stiffened as I slowly registered the sight. Runes. Immediately my mind sought to deny what I saw. Not Damaris, please not Damaris, I begged the merciless gods as I carefully pushed her sleeve up. My cane clattered to the floor. Someone had died, the god's power they had adopted while guardian now inhabiting this child. My legs shrieked as my knees buckled, the skin still fragile. My hands hovered around Damaris as tears blurred my vision. Too young, I cried as I remembered the little girl whose gaze reminded me too much of Damaris' now. They're too young! I shouted at the gods even though they ignored me. Choose someone else, anyone else, they're just children!

"Damaris, are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere sweetling?" I asked again as I screamed and shouted silently.

Green eyes blinked, then slowly turned to me.

"Who are you?"