What Lies Beyond the Veil (Of Flesh & Bone, #1)(4)
Even the sounds of small creatures slithering through the underbrush at my feet couldn’t force me to flee the forest. Even the chill air on my skin that brought a pink stain to my cheeks couldn’t force me to turn back.
All that mattered to me was the darkness surrounding me, the privacy afforded in the dead of night when I didn’t have to tolerate the prying eyes of Lord Byron’s men watching me for signs I might be acting out once again.
I slipped further into the woods, navigating as far from the village as I dared to go. The rock trolls didn’t often stray too far from their homes, instead choosing the prey that willingly walked right into their habitat to shelter from the elements, but that didn’t mean I wanted to tempt fate and wander too close.
My moment of freedom would mean nothing if I spent it trapped within the jowls of a beast three times my size, my flesh torn to ribbons while what remained of me bled out on the ground.
I stayed away from the paths that the Mist Guard would undoubtedly patrol, dragging my fingers over the trees as if I could memorize each and every one to find my way back home. I’d come this way before, navigated with only the moon and stars to light my way, more times than I could count.
A scattering of lights twinkled in the distance, moving through the trees in a circular pattern that drew my attention straight to it. I paused, halting as I glanced back over my shoulder for any sign that I might have been followed, or that Lord Byron and his Mist Guard might have waited to trap me like a curious housecat wandering where she didn’t belong.
There was nothing behind me but the woods I’d already traveled, and after a single moment considering turning back, I ducked low and crept forward to approach the strange glints.
They reminded me of the faerie lights my parents had told stories of when I’d been a girl, of the twinkling wisps that tempted human children away to be replaced by changelings in the time before the Veil. In those centuries, the Fae had run rampant in the human realm, taking what they wanted and leaving the rest to rot and suffer the consequences of their thefts.
I couldn’t turn away from the faint lights that moved through the clearing up ahead. When I got close enough, my breath caught in my chest at the sight of the people dressed all in white.
A single candle rested atop the gleaming, beige bone of a skull at the center of the clearing, with figures walking around that centerpiece as they spoke in secretive murmurs to avoid being heard. I crouched low at the base of an evergreen tree, pressing my cheek against the rough bark as I watched them moving rhythmically. Curiosity warred with fear within me, sending my heart pounding until I felt certain they would hear it.
They walked in a circle, chanting softly as they moved within the boundary they’d drawn with twigs lined up end-to-end. With the skull at the center like a bullseye, the outer boundary was perhaps a dozen steps out from it.
Every so often, one of them would turn their face my way, the white of their teeth glimmering in the flickering light as they raised and lowered the candles held tightly in front of them. My eyes couldn’t seem to stop wandering to that skull on the ground and the way everything centered around it; I wondered what person could be so unfortunate to have their bones used in some sort of ritual.
I had no idea what I was witnessing, but there was no doubt it was anything but the worship of The Father and The Mother that had been sanctioned by the Crown. Centuries had passed since King Bellham the First had liberated us from the Old Gods, who’d kept us entrenched in lives of sin and depravity, then led us toward the virtue we found with the New Gods.
One of the robed figures stopped walking, body twisting to the side to reveal the curves of a woman. Her head turned toward me, her gaze landing on me so pointedly that she left me with no doubt I’d been spotted. Where I might have expected animosity and fear, for the worship of the Old Gods was strictly forbidden by the Crown, she gifted me a kind smile and sighed as she tipped her head to the side, her dark braid falling over one shoulder.
She broke from their pattern, stepping over the circle they’d drawn around their fellowship with sticks and branches. Everyone within the circle paused as she made her way toward me, while my legs seemed unwilling to move, even though it would have been the smart thing to do. My own curiosity would get me killed if these people decided leaving me alive came with too great a risk; my ability to report them to the Mist Guard could see them burned at the stake for heresy.
My breath shuddered in my lungs, the faint fog it caused floating in front of my face before dispersing into the night air. She approached, that smile never leaving her face as she moved slowly, treating me like a frightened animal. As she came closer, I knew without a doubt she was not from Mistfell, and glancing around, her companions matched her, their clothes in good repair and skin and hair clean. Wherever they’d come from, they didn’t belong to the grimy village I called home.
“You are safe here,” she said finally, her voice a murmur hanging in the air between us. She shifted her candle into one hand, stretching out with the other to entice me forward. “The Gods welcome all who wish to know about them and their customs.”
“The Father and The Mother would never condone this,” I said, shaking my head as I stared at that hand. Something in the gesture called to me, pulling me forward until I felt the brush of her fingertips against mine and realized it wasn’t her who’d moved.
My cheek stung where the cold air touched the skin that had scraped against the tree bark; while my left hand dragged over the rough branches as I moved further from the illusion of safety they provided. “I do not speak of the Gods they worship indoors, begging for clemency on their knees before an entity that promises salvation only to those who do as they are told.” Something in her voice sounded wistful and sad, as if it pained her that I didn’t know about the alternatives to the faith that had been shoved down my throat for as long as I could remember.