Following the chilling success of their first collection, Lady Eckland, Glenn Riley, and new collaborator, Bella Darkwood return to guide you through the shadowy corridors of fear with their second compendium, *Whispers In The Dark 2*. These master...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The Village of Saint Agnes stood as a solitary beacon of hope amidst the wretched despair sweeping across 14th century Europe. The dreaded specter of the Black Death ravaged the land, decimating entire villages and leaving naught but death in its wake. Yet, by some presumed holy grace, Saint Agnes remained untouched, its devout residents utterly convinced that God's divine protection consecrated their hamlet against even this most terrible of plagues.
Nestled in a clearing within the ancient Wychwood Forest, Saint Agnes initially grew from a small collection of woodcutters and farmers seeking to tame the pagan wilds decades earlier. Its first wattle and daub cottages surrounded a tiny moss-covered chapel erected by the settlement's founder, a pilgrim turned preacher known as Father Jocelyn. In time, more hopeful refugees fled there, the village slowly swelling over generations to some sixty souls in all.
Through famine, flood and disease, the villagers gave thanks to their patron Saint Agnes, the patroness of chastity, for shielding them from earthly suffering. In their cloistered haven, the residents believed themselves blessed, following the strictures of their faith to avoid God's wrathful gaze. By maintaining confession, acts of charity, and unwavering devotion, they trusted that the Almighty would continue to watch over them if they but kept to their rituals.
As such, it was with immense shock and dismay that the villagers discovered a strange woman collapsed at the forest's edge one cold autumn morn. Clothed in tattered robes, her ashen skin clung tightly to her skeletal frame, dark veins visible beneath as they carried some unseen malady through her weakened body. The first to discover her was young Albwin, the cooper's son, who stood froze in fear believing her one of the wretched undead risen from the plague pits. Only at the rasped pleas for water from the woman's cracked, bloodied lips did the boy snap from his horrified reverie.
Summoning the village elders, they bore her comatose form to the chapel, the stunned crowd parting to allow entry before crossing themselves in warding. As the last glimpses of sunrise bathed the chapel's stained oak interior, the village healer Adalwolfa tended to her, confirming their worst fears.
"This woman carries the pestilence that has swept through our land unchecked," muttered Adalwolfa, her eyes downcast behind her linen mask. "I can offer some small relief, but death will soon claim her."
Unsure what sinister darkness this woman's arrival foretold, the villagers encircled Father Cynewulf as he prayed feverishly over her body. His Hazel eyes remained clamped shut until a gentle touch upon his shoulder drew his attention. The abbess Hildgyth stood beside him, her normally kind eyes furrowed with concern.
"Father, I beseech you, grant this woman her last rites that she may find peace," whispered Hildgyth.
Cynewulf nodded solemnly before tracing the sign of the cross over the dying woman. As holy oils glistened on her forehead, her eyes suddenly shot open, startling all gathered. Lurching upwards, she grabbed the priest's arm with an unnatural strength, her face contorted in anguish.
