Page 127 of Silver in the Bone

Exchanging a quick look, we moved toward it. From the shadows, the raised edges of bark at its center began to take shape. Two hands, pressing out, as if desperate to escape. A twisted torso. What might have been a head.

“I’ve seen some creepy things in my day,” I said. “This looks like it came out of their nightmares.”

Emrys took another step forward.

And the being opened its eyes.

Flakes of bark fell to the ground as it—the creature, the monster, whatever it was—tried to turn to us. To open its mouth.

I gripped at Emrys’s arm, drawing him back. He didn’t move. He didn’t seem to be breathing.

The creature’s lips parted with a horrifying snap, and gleaming beetles spilled forth through the stringy sap. I pressed in closer to Emrys, watching in horror as the insects scattered around us.

“Who ... comes ... here ... ?” the creature rasped. “Who ... seeks the knowledge ... of the ages ... ?”

Neither of us spoke.

“One who seeks what must ... remain ... forgotten ... ,” it continued. “And one whose heart ... he has stolen ...”

I flushed with heat, taking a step away from Emrys. “No one has time for bullshit riddles.”

“Who are you?” Emrys demanded.

“I am one of three ... three who sleep ... but do not dream ... ,” the creature continued, its terrifyingly human eyes fixing on me. “One who dies but might yet live ... one who lives but yearns to die ... and one left behind, waiting ...”

“One left behind?” I repeated. “Are you talking about a sorceress? Or a druid?”

“When the paths turn to ice ... when the world shakes and weeps blood ... when the sun is devoured by darkness,” it rasped, closing its eyes again, “the worlds will sing of the coming, chains of death broken ... new power born in blood ...”

In the dim light, Emrys went rigid. “What in hellfire is that supposed to mean?”

“When the sun is devoured by darkness ...” The memory came whip-quick, a lash of sudden understanding. “Like what happened at Tintagel?”

And the reports of roads freezing in Britain before I’d ever left home.

“What do you mean by the chains of death being broken?” I asked.

“She did this ... ,” the creature wheezed. “She thought ... to master death ... but became its servant instead.”

“Who?” I asked.

“It is fate ... ,” it rasped, hardly above a whisper, “but what is fate but an unwelcome bargain ... with time ... ?”

The creature went still. Silent.

Emrys flew toward it, trying to wake it with touch. “Who are you? What are you?”

The roots rippled back across the floor, creaking and snapping in protest. I whirled around, only to find a shadowed figure there. They raised their candle closer to their face.

Bedivere.

“If we are to be answering questions,” he said, “perhaps the two of you might tell me what it is you’re doing down here?”

It took more than a moment for my heart to start beating normally again, but even then, I couldn’t muster a good lie.

“We heard a voice and followed it,” Emrys said smoothly.

Good. That was good. And technically true.

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