Carved by the Gods

The Grey Ones

We'd been traveling since before the sun rose two days ago, the pink sky greeted us every day since, and beat down on us as we continued, only to sink again and envelop us in the cold at night while we camped. Maya and I both decided to walk through the towns, ask where we were, then leave quickly. To avoid the spies Cage had. When we asked, we made sure to cover our faces and talk to a child or a person in the farmland, for extra precaution. The Graeae were just a few more hours away, she had found a shortcut which had split the time to get there in half. It wasn't bad, I was used to this kind of walking and work, and wound up carrying most of the supplies while Maya took it easy. She had endured torture and a lifetime of being a servant in a huge palace, but nothing like long hikes in the wild. It wasn't easy for the poor girl. We were taking it easy today, because we were getting so close, the light brown dirt was turning to black, coarse, rocks. The air was growing hotter as we approached, it was nearly time.

"What do you think they'll be like?" Maya asked. She tied her hair up in a tight bun at the top of her head, her shoulders were pink with sun from pulling her sleeves on her dirtied dress up. Freedom wasn't a bad look for her, the God of Wine was a lucky guy.

"I've heard the stories and myths, but I've learned to take those with a grain of salt. It's not always what it seems." I said. From what I had been told there were three of them, they were all withered with wrinkled, ancient faces of grey and black, their eyes were all missing so they had to share one that hung off of a connective tissue woven with magic, their mouths were mostly gums, and they loved to play tricks on the unsuspecting, trying to murder or harm those who wandered too closely. If you weren't smart, you wouldn't survive, but Maya and I...I think we have a shot. In fact I know we do.

"I think the stories we've heard are true, people have come back to tell their stories of them right?" Maya shrugged.

"And yet we hear rumors about this Wanheda, but supposedly no one survives her." I countered. She shrugged again, but then considered it.

"You may have a point there." She said. We continued on the uneven ground, watching our step so we wouldn't slip. The air got heavier and humid as we marched on, making out clothes stick to us with sweat, my sandals rubbed uncomfortably on my calves and ankles, the pack seemed to gain weight with each step. Maya was panting with exhaustion, almost losing her footing. We approached a clearing, rimmed with black rocks that look like they had been melted on the ground, a circular wall of the stone lay in the center, a dim glow from a fire greeted us. I unsheath my sword and held the small shield closely.

"Stay behind me, and don't fall back." I warned her. Her now tanned face grew as pale as she was in Mount Weather, she gulped and followed like I had instructed. Hoarse murmuring and footsteps echoed as we got closer.

"Give me the eye we have company." One of the voices hissed. It sounded female, but coarse like sandpaper.

"No, no, give me the eye. It's a special visitor." A male voice snapped, it was deep and harsh.

"Very special indeed. You had it last time! Give it here!" The last one said, another female but she sounded like her vocal cords had been run over and dragged through gravel.

"Shhhh. Son of Marcus approaches." The sandpaper voice said. We entered a small opening and saw the Graeae. Their gray skin was practically melting off their bones, they wore black cloaks and chitons with obsidian necklaces and pins, all had himations over their long, white hair that frizzed out with monstrous curls. The stories had been true. The huddled together at the otherside, sitting close to the fire.

"Son of Marcus. You have come finally." The manly voice said, he held the eye in his gnarled, claw-like hand. I did my best to keep stone faced, showing no fear as we got closer.