Page 94 of Drawn in Blood
The wisp bobbed a few feet further toward the castle, and Ember shook her head again.
“No,” she said, “I am going home.” She groaned as it floated further. Ember rolled her eyes with a sigh, “I’m arguing with a speck of blue light,” she mumbled, but she followed it anyway.
She slipped over an outer wall, feeling the ward bend around her as it let her pass. The wisp floated to a door, quickly slipping underneath and inside.
“Feckin’ hell,” Ember mumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose. She jiggled the knob on the door, but it was locked. Of course it was locked. She sighed as she racked her brain.“Desellar,”she whispered under her breath, and the lock opened with a quiet click. She slipped into the kitchen beyond the door, tiptoeing across the stone floor and into a back hallway, the wisp bouncing above the floor, like it was waiting for her. She ran her hands along the stone wall, feeling the years’ worth of chipsand scratches rub against the pads of her fingers. It was so odd how ancient certain parts of the castle looked, compared to the curated portions Helvig had shown her earlier in the day.
Was that intentional?
She came out into a hall, her feet now touching marble, and realized she was in front of the same door she had seen earlier that day. She ran her hands along the ancient wood, electricity crackling underneath her fingertips. She whispered the unlocking spell once, twice, three times, but nothing happened. She sighed as she chewed on the inside of her cheek.
Why had it brought her here? And better yet, why had she followed a little ball of magical light in the dead of night by herself? The wisp bobbed beside her, like it was waiting on her to figure out some crucial piece of the puzzle.
“What? Are you waiting for an invitation?” Ember whispered to the buzzing ball of light. “What do you want me to do?”
The light hovered, suddenly breaking into multiple more lights, dozens of wisps floating around her arms and hands, and then whirling around the door, setting it aglow like a blue flame. Ember didn’t understand why, but she reached out to touch the handle again. It burned against her skin, lighting every nerve on fire as she bit down on her tongue, fighting back tears as she tried not to scream. The fire burned through her veins, up her arm and into her chest, and just as quickly had it started, it was over.
Ember yanked her hand away, cradling it against her chest as the lock popped open with a quiet click. The wisp bobbed through the door, into the darkness, and Ember followed quietly, hearing the door close behind her. Ancient sconces lit blue as the wisps hovered above each one, lighting the path down the treacherous looking stone staircase. It wound down, down, down, and when she was finally convinced she was somewhere under the mountain itself, it leveled out, the hall infront of her widening. Wooden doors lined the walls, each of them locked, and Ember had no desire to try to see what was on the other side.
At the end of the hall, there was a single wooden door, the same runes carved in it as the door in the hallway above her. She winced as she squeezed her hand, the raw feeling of magic still pulsing through her skin. Before she had a chance to reach out and touch it, the wisp began hovering around the handle again, and the lock effortlessly popped open. Ember narrowed her eyes, at no one in particular.
“Are you telling me you could do that the entire time?”
She could’ve sworn it laughed.
Ember wandered down the damp hall, jumping when she heard a squeak from behind her. She wandered down another set of steps, convinced that this was a pointless endeavor and was just about to turn around and head back home when she heard the song.
The song that had haunted her dreams for months, that had lived in her head and rattled her brain, was coming from the end of the hall.
Trí stoirmeagus farraige caillimid cé muid féin,
Ach amháin le fáil ag réalta tar éis titim.
Snámh i dtreo an chladaigh i bhfad i gcéin,
óir níl aon áit caillte againn níos mó.
Trí fear tareis fás agus foraoisí cosc,
Sin an ait a bhfaighidh tú na daoine óga, goidte agus i bhfolach.
Thar na gcnoc is na gcloch liath,
Sin an ait a rachaidh sibh go léir isteach sa chraic
Ember creptto the door the ethereal voice was coming from and leaned against it to listen, laying her ear beside the small window carved in the middle of the wood. The voice sounded ancient and weathered, like someone was sucking the life right from her lungs. Her breath caught in her throat, choking back a sob. Something about the song felt like it was wrong to hear, like she was interfering with some private moment—a moment between this woman and the gods. The singing stopped, and Ember held her breath.
“I didn’t know if you would come,” the voice said from behind the door. “I was hopeful, but one can never be certain.”
Ember felt her entire body turn cold. “Is this yours?” she asked, pointing to the blue wisp floating beside her, like it was a puppy she had found on the side of the road.
“It is as much yours as it is mine,” the woman replied, her voice sounding hoarse.
Ember furrowed her brow, choosing to ignore the cryptic message. “Do you know what they are?”
“I do,” the woman replied, and Ember could almost hear the smile on her lips. Was she going to make her beg?
Ember sighed, this suddenly felt like a huge waste of time.
