It is done. The ritual took longer to complete. Considering the number of people participating, I would say that we did quite well. The heavy wrought-iron doors to the gate swung outward. A wind sweeps in from beyond and brings with it, a chill. The barrier is now able to be crossed. The mist recedes from the old stone and metal of the gate, retreating to the light forest.
Looking ahead towards the trees in the distance, the ever-present mist is obscuring the view. It had been ages since I was here last, and it must be with good reason that I was brought to this place. Beyond that mound, hidden within the trees, is the place where my soul shattered and wept.
“Walk with me brother,” the familiar voice of my friend urging me forward, “we haven’t long.”
Taking in a deep breath, I pause for a moment, listening to the wind playing across the dried grass, watching the ripple of the grass bowing to the current. A susurrus reaches my ears, offering inviting words of welcome and despair. I had almost forgotten how alive this place can be.
The place before me, while appearing to be very similar to the world that most are familiar with, is alive. There is a certain… how shall we say? Magic in the air… and it is not always friendly or romantic.
“Why did you bring me here? You know of the importance of what lies beyond this gate.” I snapped, breathing quickens as strong emotions, long buried, rise to the surface.
“Brother,” my friend replied with a calm that made me ashamed of my sudden anger, “you are all that’s left of us. Have you so quickly forgotten? Please, walk with me, the sun is wanting to rise.”
Letting out a sigh, we step past the towering gate.
Sometimes, crossing barriers can be difficult, and certain ones keep out certain kinds of folks or things.
A feeling washes over as I step over the threshold, sending shivers throughout my body, the kind that is brought on by a deathly cold. Leaving the world of the pale behind, we step into the border marches to the Land of Summer.
We stop to pay respects at the ancient standing stone. The ancient symbols, carved in ages past, show no signs of the wear of years that one would expect. These are symbols of treaties and contracts between the worlds, beings, and things. It is one of the anchor points, binding the worlds together in this area.
There are still remnants of ancient battles, long past, present here… a rusted blade amidst the grass, an old helmet under a bush. The stones serving as a remembrance for fallen are strewn about the area. Names and deeds carved into the stones. One could almost see the stains of dried tears upon them. Floods of memories return. So much has time had passed, yet these feelings are still raw. Lost in reverie, I almost did not notice my friend moving on.
Catching up, “Where are you bringing me to, specter of my old friend?”
The corner of his mouth turns up slightly, “Patience brother, we must make for the trees. You know what happens if the sun were to catch us out here.”
He had a point. Imagine the sun as an enforcer for a realm. My friend, being what he is, cannot maintain himself here under direct exposure. As for me, one could say that I am persona non grata here.
There was a strong sense of “not quite right” about this place. Where it is still alive, it seemed more… twisted than before, more “off.”
Nodding my head, as we walked, pace quickening, I whisper, “There is still a lot to fix, I see.” I looked at that small mound ahead; I look down and shake my head.
“That there is, brother, you did make quite a mess of things.”
“True… though I have been trying to set things right since then,” looking up, I notice the sky shifting to cerulean hues, “I feel I have given much of myself.”
“Indeed you have, but you were also fortunate that more drastic measures were not taken. Your actions were considered unforgivable by many. Have you forgotten the ruination and chaos which swiftly followed?”
Sighing, “No… I have not, for they had followed me for such a long time,” pausing a moment, “Old Herla was not one of those people, was he?”
My friend let out a rueful chuckle, “Alas, no. He had always looked upon you as a son. Some of us, myself excluded, never quite understood why. I think he understood why you did what you felt you had to do, and he defended you until the end. But once he passed, the rest of us were so scattered and there were so few of us, that not many were able to prevent what happened.”
“He was like a father to both of us, yeh?”
“Indeed he was, brother.”
“Now it has become another time, another place,” wiping away a tear, we continued on in silence, remembering those lost times.
Reaching the safety of the forest and the obscuring mist, I look back to the gateway as the sun’s rays strike it. I could hear the groaning of the metal as the gate closed, separating the worlds again. We are now on our own out here.
Turning back to my friend, “You might want to tell me before we continue past the Sídhe,” motioning to the mound ahead of us.
The Sídhe are an ancient folk, long ago driven to live underground. Some would say they were gods at one time. Some would also say that they were tricked to live underground. It really depends upon whose side you are on. Needless to say, they are now a suspicious and secretive lot.
He looks over towards the small hill and sighs, “Very well, brother. Though, I felt it was more important to tell you once we reached the Hollows.”
My breath catches at the mention of that place. Painful and powerfully sorrowful memories and emotions attempt to take hold. Shakily, I replied, “W-why, w-would we go there? That is a bit further than expected, and-“
“Because of the significance…” he interrupted, “I have found her.”
Note:I wrote this for a creative writing class.
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