Tragic Innocence

Chapter 55: Foolish Heart

            “Drat!  I should have brought a flambeau!”  She hastily rummaged through the old wooden crates that were stacked aplenty and ignored the thick upheaval of ashen dust.  Her fingers happened across a torch as she felt for its familiar shape to confirm her suspicions.

            “I found one!  Okay, what about flint and—” the torch suddenly lit itself, but she thought nothing of it after giving a gasp of surprise.  “Ah, well, there is definitely magic amidst.”  She stood up quickly and carefully stepped across the graveyard of trash.  “Lousy housekeeper, that one.”  She shook her head with disgust as she thought of the owner of the fortress, whoever he was.

            “Oh!  What crazy wretch…!”  Her upper lip curled upwards in disgust and she pointed to the wall of skulls with squirming rats too big for the hollows.  “Ooh, rats!”  A violent shutter avalanched down her back as she made sure to avoid going that direction.

            The slender, Enon-loving sprite’s widened eyes carefully swept across the frightening chamber and decided that the opposing door from the one with a fearsome guardian looked rather appealing.  Could it be that it was not blocked with smoking debris and twisted skeletons that drove her to it?

“Stranger and stranger,” she muttered under her breath when her flesh rose with alarm and twisted her lips faked with disgust and masked bravery.  “The keeper is certainly eccentric enough.”

            Spring Brook carefully picked her way across the dreadful chamber to the heavy splintery door.  She stepped over a suit of rusted armor, more despicable skeletons, scattered grinning skulls, both lodged and fallen weapons of all sorts, and mounds of ancient artifacts.  Once reaching the door, a wave of relief assailed her until she noticed the huge hinges welded shut with layers of auburn rust.  “Too big, too heavy to open…” she observed meekly while rubbing her arms with clammy palms.  Just as she was about to place her trembling foot behind her and look for another way, the door swung open with an alarming groan.  Spring Brook screamed, falling hard upon her rump with violently shaking hands covering her gaping mouth.  Echoes burped loudly behind the door.

            She giggled nervously, dusting off the dust, coughing a little.  “H-hello?”  She tentatively rose and edged her toe forward until a cold chill froze her to her spot.  “W-who’s th-there?  A-anyone?”  Spring Brook felt her pupils enlarging as the swallowing darkness seemed to slither with life.  Her voice betrayed her as it quavered, “H-hello?”

            The stretching flame of the torch suddenly danced with upheavals of breath.  It flattened against itself until its light swayed, threatening to plunge Spring Brook into nothingness.  “No!” she shrieked as it sputtered and vanished with a small pop.

            A soft chuckle slithered forth from somewhere, causing her hair to stand on end.  She shook her head and tried to step back, but found her leg stuck to the stone-slabbed ground.  Her eyes widened as she forced her chin downward to view what held her so strangely still, her brows rising into two sharp peaks.

            *Spring Brook…* a deep breathy voice echoed softly that sent cold up her entire length.

            She sucked in her bottom lip and bit it hard.  She had been regretting following Crow and Pentulla.  Why had she allowed curiosity to get the best of her?  And when that strange mist became a monstrous tempest?  What about when the mere sight of the ominous fortress ripped through her soul and seemed to suck her into it….  When she tumbled in after them…?  Thoroughly disgusted with herself, she began to weep bitterly.  Why was she so insistent upon finding out what Crow wanted with those two wenches?  Why!  Crow never did love her…