Phil heard the song from far away, his face wearing a frightened expression as he noticed Dan's absence. It was easily recognisable - an old hymn sung at funerals. It was said to send the dead to the heavens and was an ancient melody, passed down from generation to generation. The composer said that angels came to him in his wake and wrote the song for him, which he translated into his own language, now an extinct tongue.
"Asadala, Kae palos
Ghoratan, Salos.
Taruman Kae Anna,
Jasuel sarel Tash,
Aljandia."
It translated to say,
"Travel Alone,
Black Hills Call.
Cold eyes Sing
To live to Die
Be Home"
For anyone else, it would just be a beautiful melody, but to Phil it meant death. Before many people died mysteriously, this song was heard. Often it marked somebody as someone's to kill. For those who were angels of death, it marked their lives and deaths as owned by them. One angels way of saying to the others,
"I have power and choice over this person's life."
Phil had never before encountered an angel of death and prepared himself to see what was in store for him. He placed his dagger in its sheath and into his pocket, flicking his wrist and pushing his fringe back. Beginning his walk, Phil came across an area where there was a large dent in the ground with cracks around it. Nearby, at the foot of a tree were four mushrooms which had been picked and the dropped back onto the dirt. Phil scratched at the surface of the dent and pushed the loose ground downwards. Once all the mud was cleared there was a small hole revealed which looked like a rabbit hole. Phil could see marks of nails on the sides, as though someone either emerged from this or went down it. The marks were deep and thin, implying sharp nails had scraped the sides. Slipping his blade out of its sheath, Phil began to dig through the ground. There were rocks at various intervals, and he didn't dare touch them as they seemed to be in a pattern of some sort. He chipped the first layer of dirt away to find the rocks were all totally identical and circled the hole perfectly. Phil moved two of the rocks at the top away, to leave a gap in the circle. Then, Phil began to sing in a quiet voice.
"Asadala, Kin Palos,
Ghoratan Kae Anna.
Tarum Misha,
Jasuel Jasuel, Nal Tash,
Aljandia"
This was the best Phil could translate to mean,
"Travel with Kin,
Black Hills Sing.
Eyes open,
To live, to live and never die,
Be home"
This was Phil's best attempt at reversing the mark, as he knew it was possible to erase other markings if one was made with feelings of not greed or need, but of genuine feeling and care. It was rare that these ever worked, but Phil hoped his words would work. He placed the two stones he had moved back to their places, and a cold breeze blew between the trees as he lay there, waiting for Dan to come back.
Phil waited for ten minutes, and ten minutes turned into hours and the hours turned by as Phil stared blankly at the place he wished Dan would emerge from.
After almost a day of lying blank faced and lonely between trees, Phil placed his head between his knees and wept. He hardly knew Dan, but he felt like he knew him. Phil had never wanted someone to come back as much as he did now, and he placed his hand on the ground and mumbled over and over,
"Come back, come back, please come back"
And when Dan didn't come back, Phil felt faded and useless with all hope gone and seemingly none on the horizon.
YOU ARE READING
Strangers In A Wood | Phan A U
Random"It was like a world of ghosts that had been wrapping themselves around Phil's throat had suddenly evaporated, and he could breathe again" A Fantasy A.U. set in an old-world, magical version of England.
