Page 65 of Anathema

It took both hands over my mouth to contain the scream that fought to tear out of me, while I watched the creature devour Moros whole.

“We have to go,” Uncle Riftyn whispered, still standing behind me. “We have to get out of here. Now!”

As he tugged at my shoulders, I watched the last of Moros disappear inside the beast’s mouth. Then, as it stood upright, swallowing the last of him, its form changed, its skin and bones shifting like marbles in a satchel. Until, at last, by some twisted evil, it had taken the appearance of Moros.

It held its hands up, as if marveling their human form, and it turned its head in our direction. It was Moros, but with grotesquely loose skin and protruding bones that looked like they hadn’t quite settled beneath.

Black, beady eyes scanned over the forest, and I twisted around, chasing after Uncle Riftyn, who already had a good start ahead of me. Over snapping branches and twigs, and the crush of bones, I raced through the dark woods, goaded by the snarls that trailed after me. I leapt over a fallen log, and toppled to the ground, when something caught me from behind. I twisted to see my cloak snagged again. Tugging at the fabric, I tore it from the branch and felt arms hook beneath mine. Uncle Riftyn stood over me, lifting me to my feet.

As I turned to push on, a large palm gripped the top of his head and yanked him back.

“No!” I screamed, reaching out for Uncle Riftyn, as his body shot backward.

The creature held him by his skull, while Uncle Riftyn’s legs dangled helplessly, and he let out a gut-wrenching scream.

In the next breath, the horrific deformity curled his fingers into Uncle Riftyn’s cheek and tore his skin away on a wet meat sound that echoed inside my head. Uncle Riftyn’s flayed skin dangled from the creature’s fingers, his body convulsing as his exposed muscle and tendons glistened in the moonlight.

An insidious fear crawled down my spine, strangling my breath. My head couldn’t process what I was seeing.

Run! Just like in nightmares, my legs wouldn’t move at my command, at first. Until, like trudging through quicksand, I turned to run, delirious with shock.

Instinct took over, the adrenaline commandeering my muscles, and I didn’t look back. I ran until the air burned in my lungs. Until my legs flamed with fatigue. Until the trees blurred and my skin flushed and I stumbled in my steps. I ran until the prickles of a dead bramble bush prodded me out of my stupor, and I skidded to a halt in the thick of a thorny wall.

A pale blue light beamed from a clearing on the other side of it, and I stepped through, hypnotized by the soft glow behind a bony archway that appeared similar to the one I’d stepped through upon entering The Eating Woods. Thorns scratched at my skin with every step, until they cleared for a stony pathway.

Fireflies danced about the archway, the sight so beautiful after all the macabre I’d seen. Maybe Moros had caught up to me, after all, and this was the afterlife. As one of the fireflies neared, I raised my palm, letting it land there. On close examination, its tiny face appeared almost human-like, reminding me of the wickens, but not as malicious. It almost seemed docile with wide black eyes which tapered down to a small mouth—one that seemed to smile back at me—and instead of bristled legs, there were hands and feet with bitsy little fingers and toes. I studied its thorax, entirely translucent as if made of glass, with a magical blue light that pulsed slowly.

The sound of whimpers pulled my attention toward the edge of the thorn wall, where Aleysia sat crouched, bleeding and shivering.

“Aleysia!” I snapped out of my wonderment and abandoned the firefly for her.

One touch of her skin told me she was dangerously cold, and I yanked off my cloak to cover her.

Small teeth marks covered her body, not unlike the one at my shin, as if she’d encountered a swarm of wickens. “D-D-Did you … s-s-s-s-eeee it?”

“Yes. C’mon. Let’s get out of here.” It made no sense that she’d be so close to freedom, yet crouched there.

“I … I couldn’t leave you,” she said, tears filling her eyes. “I wanted to run through, but I couldn’t bear the thought that you were trapped with the monster.”

“I’m here, Aleysia. Let’s go. Let’s run and never return to Foxglove.”

With a nod, she pushed to her feet, and I wrapped my arms around her, guiding her toward the archway. A shimmering wall flickered as we approached, like a liquid mirror, reflecting our image so I couldn’t see what was on the other side of it. I released her, padding carefully ahead of her.

Tiny silver sachets hung from the top of the archway, and I reached for one. An overwhelming warmth settled over me, followed by a wonderful, earthy scent so strong, it brought tears to my eyes. “It … it smells like petrichor,” I whispered. The inexplicable urge to pass through pulled at me, beckoning me beyond the archway. With an uncertain glance over my shoulder toward Aleysia, I drew in a deep breath and pushed my hand through the strange barrier, the prickly sensation scaring me into retracting my shaking limb.

Holding my cloak tight around her, Aleysia trembled, watching me.

A quick examination showed no damage to my hand, and I pushed it through again, pulling it back out with no resistance. I reached to push through again, and she gripped my arm.

“Wait!” The fear in her eyes darkened. “W-w-what if … s-s-s-something bad is on the … other s-s-s-side?” she asked.

“What if freedom lies on the other side, Aleysia? I’ll go first. You follow, okay?”

She gave a tearful nod. “Okay.”

“Promise me you’ll follow.”

“I promise.”

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