The Ember in The Dark I

The adrenaline consumes Myrtha’s legs. What is left of Ahriman’s army is gaining speed towards her. The hooves of the remaining calvary violently thump the ground. Myrtha accustomed to the harsh environment fled up the wet slippery slopes of the green valleys and into the dense woodland perched on top. She tries to raise her feet high enough to dodge the twigs sticking out. Myrtha keeps on running because she knows her life depends on it. She falls repeatedly picking herself straight back up and running each time, taking a few leaves with her. She falls and then rolls back to her feet. She is muddy, wet, and frightened. The horses make more noise than their riders. They are used to the hard cold concrete and yet, they are keeping up their speed with their sights set on Myrtha.

She falls once more, looks back and runs again. A rider throws a net, Myrtha’s feet are tied together, and she falls face in the mud. She removes her boots quickly, shaking and shivering. She can see their faces clearly now. She gets the net off frantically and tries with all her strength to run faster. She fails. They stop her in her paces, circling her as the footmen trailing behind encroach. She looks for an escape route.

“Where do you think you’re going?” said one of the men in a voice so croaky and crackled she thought she may as well be talking to a toad. He looks like one. She glares at him, thinking of a way to get out.

“We know what you are. We saw it with our own eyes.” said the toad man.

“You killed those men! My brother was one of those men!” screamed a newt-looking child. Barely old enough to hold the crossbow he was pointing at Myrtha’s chest.

This was the part of Wind in the Willows story she had missed. Breathless Myrtha steps closer to the boy, looking him in the eye sorrowfully, and says “I am sorry,” she embraces her newfound magic and creates a tornado of leaves. The horses freak, and their riders fall. The newt boy drops his crossbow. All men are pinned to the ground and Myrtha stands in the eye of her storm. She lifts her arms and pushes the leaf-nado in a shockwave formation towards the surrounding men, slamming them to the ground. Myrtha runs again without hesitation while the men struggle to their feet.

The next round of the chase is in full swing. She looks back once or twice before falling and rolling, to be back on her feet seconds later. Until stops dead in her tracks. Turns around slowly and lowers her head down holding a cold gaze, eyebrows narrow. Her eyes turn white. The surrounding trees burst into flames of amber and gold. A thread of fire cuts the horses off, and the men are stuck. She continues to run, turning around as she runs, to make sure they cannot follow her this time. She runs and runs, looking back every couple of seconds. She runs. Picking up her feet she runs. She runs and runs and runs a little more until she falls... straight off a cliff face.

Time slows. For a moment it feels as if she is flying. She spins and twirls in the air. Falling through layers of fog. Her arms were like weak wings. Spinning and twirling she tries her hardest to grasp anything she can but to no avail, she continues to fall – staying hostage to the air. A cherub she plunges into the deep depths of an underwater cave pit below. The cold water pulls her under, clinging onto her feet as Myrtha watches the hazy sunlight fade from above. Her fingers are stretched out her arms frantically flapping, she cannot escape the gravitational pull that forces her descent. Into the unknown, a whirlpool of visions eclipses her escape. Myrtha sees the ghosts of her past dancing around her as if maelstroms. Her youngest sisters danced together in circles singing. Her father drinking and laughing. Her grandmother danced with her other sisters. Ambrose. They danced together. During that Solstice, Ambrose and Myrtha had run away in secret, sharing a kiss that has never been discussed. After seeing these hallucinations, Myrtha begins to feel drunk with glee and she slowly exchanges oxygen for water. She screams scratching at her neck. Bubbles from her mouth flee the scene gasping for air themselves. Her eyes roll back into her head, as she slips into unconsciousness. The water continues to drag her deeper into the unknown cave.

Limp, her body hunched over, her hair over her face. She passes through a stone archway into another layer of water laying on top of another. The water changes its heading. She begins to rise. Myrtha’s body turns and spins again, the water holds her on a cusp of current. Her face is free from her hair, and the sunlight shines on her. A ray beam shines on her ascent. What was above, is now below, she continues to rise. Eventually, she reaches the surface, her body drifting towards a cave entrance. A mysterious figure in a red robe emerges. He raises his hand, lifting Myrtha up onto the rocks. He places his hand on her shoulder, stays for a moment, and walks back into the cave from which he came.

Myrtha awakes. She takes in the deepest breath she ever has, coughs, sitting bolt upright. After she had stopped coughing, she looked at her surroundings bewildered by the sight. A secret pool with a shimmering waterfall, making the rocks look like they were covered in silver glitter, and the water beaming sapphire blue like the diamond itself. She looks over her shoulder capturing a glimpse of a shadow going into the cave. She gets to her feet as quickly as she can to make sure her eyes aren’t playing for a fool. Once the shadow had disappeared into the darkness, she was left staring into the gaping entrance of an enormously eerie cave. She notices the stream of water feeding the water and in turn the water feeding the cave. Her bare wet feet are beginning to hurt. Her dress was soaked. She is drenched to the bone. She sees no other alternative but to follow the shadow. She follows the path of the water, a little wary. The cave rang with the bells of its water droplets as they echoed off and bounced off the ancient walls of this unknown place. The stone was black, a type of black that will never fade, no matter how many years have been and gone and it will remain that way forever.

She is faced with the obstacle of rough rocks and boulders bigger than herself. She can see an opening; she braces herself for the climb. Myrtha immediately slips and her foot gets stuck. She cries in pain. The adrenaline had gone. She takes a deep breath and pulls her foot out pushing herself up onto the next level of stone. Her foot will reveal the bruises tomorrow. Level upon level of stone, rows and rows of boulders and rocks, Myrtha managed to climb over the hurdles in her path. Once through the narrow opening, and down the other side lay a coffin slab of slippery stone awaiting. She steps lightly onto the coffin lid. Opting to slide down rather than attempt to skate. Or risk another fall. She slid with nothing to grasp. The daylight behind her was dwindling fast. She sees nothing but darkness ahead...

She holds onto dear life, as she feels nothing beneath her but one step. She cannot see what lies ahead, she places her left foot onto the stop, gradually adding her weight. She kneels holding onto the rough railing of rocks while her other hand stretched out trying to feel whatever was there. She could feel another step, so she continued. The wet stone made her feet slip. She could not see her hands, her eyes blind. Yet she continued her descent down the grand staircase.

A glow of light in a small crevice appeared above Myrtha’s head. She stands to her feet taking another step. Another light glows. Another step, another light...

To be continued (sorry writers' block! Keep checking back for updates).

You can find the same chapter on my Publish0x page: https://www.publish0x.com/the-writers-bloc/the-ember-in-the-dark-i-xkpyzyp