The Swallowed One and the Goblin Tree

There was only one rule: "Don't open the door."

Or so read the warning above the little bronze door at the foot of a fire blackened oak. It was written in a script so perverse that when moonlight set it aglow, even the Gods averted their eyes and the damned shivered and kept clear.

For this tree was known as the Goblins' tree and beyond the door was a labyrinthine pit filled with all the cruelties of the world and unfathomable evils besides.

The door was guarded by the Queen of the fairy goblins. A tortured, malformed and soulless being; The Swelgan, she was called.

"The Swallowed One."

Her purpose and duty lay in the second half of the inscription, and she did not take her role lightly.

"Lest you wish to join us," it continued.

The Queen's magic was such that the altar of her people could be manifested at will. Be it in a field ... or in your own home.

And on nights like this one, when the moon rose high and full on a cold AllHallowtide, she called to her kin through the keyhole, whispering to them to be patient.

*

She begins her spell with a thick fog, a ghostly howl, clattering branches and a gusting wind. Before you know it the path that seemed to be a straight line between your bedroom and the bathroom has vanished. And you find yourself in her forest.

Your spine tingles and veins freeze. Your breathing slows to a shallow gasp and your eyes roam for safety.

Then you see it. The little door, lit from within.

In desperation, your racing pulse carries you forward like a marching tune.

You can't read the warning and step inside.

She smiles.

The Swelgan is reborn.