Lost in IRA

Chapter 1

Ira is not a place for the meek. Anyone who dares step foot in it never seems to come back the same. The blood-curdling howls from deep in the forest and the ghostly calls from the rickety villages seem to be right enough to traumatise even the bravest of warriors. Dare to enter? Prepare yourself for an abandoned world of horror beyond belief.

A red-haired, dark skinned 15-year-old named Celeste Hart set aside the book and gazed dreamily through the window, resting her head on her hand. The book was an old poetry collection her older sister, Chloe (who was five years older than her), used to read. The poems described a dark and mysterious land called Ira, along with a short story about a group of mages who cast an evil curse upon the land, transforming it into the roaming place of all who lurk in the shadows and killing all the innocent and foretelling the end of the world.

"I want to go to Ira one day," Celeste used to say to her sister.

"It isn't real, you know that, right? Plus, why would you want do go to someplace so horrible?" Chloe would often respond.

"It might be, you don't know," Celeste would say, waving a finger at her sister. "And if I killed the evil mages, I'd be like the hero that story never got!

Chloe laughed and pulled her blanket over her sister. "Never stop dreaming big, li'l sis. Good night."

Celeste was 12 when Chloe moved from their home in Melbourne to New York to study fashion. (Style had always been a big passion for Chloe.) Celeste couldn't believe it. Although she was proud of Chloe, part of her felt betrayed. The only person who ever cared about Celeste had left to the other side of the world, and left her on the other side all alone, heartbroken and friendless.

Recently, things had been happening in the world. Strange, supernatural happenings that can only be a work of magic. So-called 'sightings' at local areas, details left vague.

Perhaps the end of the world as the legend of Ira said...

Besides, she had seen, with her own eyes, a perfectly stable tree, that had stood grandly in the park for ever since she could remember, uprooted itself and crushed a row of houses.

That wasn't the work of gangs. That couldn't be the work of any human.

It was nothing short of black magic.

After 13 sleepless hours on the internet, eyes burning and watering, Celeste finally managed to locate a small forest in Tasmania, apparently unexplored ever since a large group of explorers had gotten lost and never came out in the late 1700th century, and again early in the early 1900s. Perfect.

She left, paying a decent amount for planes and hiring a car.

Three hours on a plane, alone, and 5 hours in a cab.

Her parents barely said goodbye as she rushed out the door.

At least she didn't have to worry about them missing her.

"Almost there," said the cab driver, adjusting her mirror so that her passengers could see her (well, let's be honest, her eyes) through the reflection, "you little heroes. What are you here for again? You know what they call this place, right? Hell's forest."

An energetic, perky girl sitting up the front launched into an explanation, only slightly differing from Celeste's.

Celeste glanced around the mostly-empty cab.

There were about 5 other people on board. (This surprised Celeste; she hadn't expected anyone else to be there at all. Not to say she wasn't pleased, however.) Each carried very few possessions, which were either at their feet or on the seat next to them. She looked down at her rucksack, which was resting between her legs.