Chapter 15 The Banshee of Ellesmere Island
The Banshee of Ellesmere Island
“You cannot ask for a Pegasus for your birthday, Fenrir,” Ember sighed, as she rolled her eyes, sliding into her seat in Zoomancy.
Since the moment she had met the boys at the Echopoint that morning, Fen had been chattering on about a Pegasus he had “bonded” with in Sigurvik that weekend and how it was the only thing he wanted for his birthday now.
“And why not, Em? What’s stopping me?” he replied, crossing his arms tightly over his chest like a petulant toddler.
“Eira would never let you, for one,” she replied, tapping her pen against her nose as she opened her textbook, “and think of how that would make poor Arlo feel. Replacing him with a flying pony? He would be devastated. Not to mention I’m almost certain they aren’t bred as pets.”
“She’s right, mate,” Killian interjected, as he leaned back in his chair. “They’re a working breed only. He’d be bloody miserable stuck in your barn all day.”
Fen grumbled something unintelligible as he scrunched his nose and leaned on the table, resting his chin in his palm. “Are you coming over for our birthday dinner?” he asked, as he traced the wood grain on the table.
Ember tried not to flinch.
It wasn’t their birthday, not really. Not anymore. It was her birthday and his birthday, but it wasn’t something they would share together again. The sudden realization of that made something inside of her chest crack.
“I think my mom has something planned.” She tried to smile. “Maybe we can do something after?”
Fen’s face fell as he nodded, and Ember felt something deep inside her crack a bit more.
“Good morning, young Vala,” Professor Bjorn’s voice boomed, as he descended the spiral staircase. “I trust you all had a weekend full of rest and recuperation? And perhaps some studying?”
Every student seemed to avert their eyes, looking anywhere but the professor towering over them at the front of the classroom. He tapped his giant paw on his tweed vest as he peered at them over his monocle.
“Or perhaps not,” he laughed gruffly, as he leaned against his desk. He tapped silently on his chin for a moment before clearing his throat and straightening his vest. “This quarter we are focusing on the creatures that live in the Dark Forest,” he continued as he opened the textbook.
A groan sounded out through the room, some students even laying their heads on their desks, and Professor Bjorn rolled his eyes with a small grin.
“Oh, for fecks sake,” he mumbled, as he flipped his wrist, promptly closing the book on his desk.
“I have an even better idea.” With another silent flick of his wrist, his office door opened at the top of the spiraling staircase, and a small book floated toward him, laying gently on his desk.
The pages fluttered open quickly, then slowed to a stop somewhere in the middle of the book.
Professor Bjorn cleared his throat as he adjusted his monocle, and the class fell silent once more.
“Instead of discussing the creatures in the Dark Forest,” he began, “today we are going to discuss Celtic mythological creatures and beings.”
The classroom erupted in a cacophony of oohs and aahs as everyone flipped their books closed and began whispering excitedly to the person beside them. Ember smiled as she tapped the desk beside her.
“Do you know many legends about creatures in the forest?” she asked Odette quietly.
“I know stories that even you would have a hard time believing, Ember Lothbrok.” Odette grinned as the bells hanging from her ears twinkled lightly.
“Do you ever see anything? When you’re out there?” Ember asked in a hushed whisper. She didn’t have to specify where the there was.
Odette nodded as she smirked. “Sometimes I see things, and sometimes things see me. Sometimes I wake up in my bed, and I’m not sure if I walked back myself or if I was ever there to begin with. Nothing in the forest is truly ever what it seems.”
Ember nodded in silent agreement.
“There are many legends about things that lurk about the island,” Odette whispered, smiling as she tilted her head toward Ember. “Although, it seems not all legends are steeped completely in lore.”
Ember felt her neck burn red as she cut her eyes around the room, but not even Fen and Killian were paying attention to the conversation between her and Odette. “I suppose not,” she whispered back.
“Just because we are going off script,” Professor Bjorn announced from the front of the room, “does not mean this lesson is not to be taken seriously.”
A hush fell over the class as he walked up and down the rows of students.
“It also doesn’t mean that this class won’t count toward your final grade.”
Silence finally fell over the class, and Professor Bjorn smirked as he strode back toward the front of the room.
“Today we will cover the Banshee,” he said calmly, sticking small ear plugs into his large ears. “First we will start with the Banshee’s song.”
Ember’s blood ran cold at the sound that came out of the book—the song she had heard in her dreams and the night she had followed the wisps in Arcelia.
Her breathing became rapid, the walls threatening to close in on her entirely.
She clenched her sweaty palms as her stomach turned, nails digging into the calloused skin.
Odette laid a hand on one of her fists, and Ember stiffened in her seat.
The room filled with students grabbing their ears and squeezing their eyes shut, some screaming, “Stop!” as they winced.
Ember furrowed her brow as she turned to look at Fen and Killian, who both had their ears covered by their arms. Killian looked up at Ember, his eyes locking quickly with hers, confusion washing over his face.
Odette seemed to be the only one other than her who wasn’t screaming, but that didn’t surprise her in the least.
As everyone continued to cover their ears, Ember couldn’t understand why they had a problem with the song the ethereal woman was singing.
As her eyes met Professor Bjorn’s, he gave her a curious look.
After a few more beats, he waved his hand, and the singing stopped, and the rest of the class uncovered their ears.
“Feckin hell,” Fen groaned, “what was that?”
Killian narrowed his eyes at Ember and tilted his head, like he was studying her. Ember felt her neck burn hot as she shrank into her seat.
“That, Mr. Kitt,” Professor Bjorn, “was the Banshee’s song.”
“I think song is an odd choice of words,” Fen mumbled, as he rubbed his temple. “Whoever was in charge of naming that should be fired.”
Ember furrowed her brow but kept her eyes forward on Professor Bjorn, who seemed to be trying not to look at her now.
“Can anyone tell me what the Banshee’s Song means?” Professor Bjorn asked, as he paced up and down the rows of students.
Odette’s hand shot up in the air. “She is said to be a harbinger of death,” she said softly. “The Banshee only sings at night, and her song is said to be an omen.”
The class went still.
“Very good, Miss Quinn,” Professor Bjorn nodded. “As you all heard, her song is more of a wail, and she can only be heard at night. She is said to roam the Dark Forest, and her song brings the death of a loved one or a warrior in battle.”
All eyes were on the professor as he walked through the class, so still you could hear a pin drop.
“Some view her as a guide to Valhalla,” he continued, “and others just a dark omen. The more likely truth, though, is that she is Fae but was banished from their lands.”
Ember furrowed her brow—she had met the king and queen, and they didn’t seem like the type to banish one of their own. Perhaps that was part of the legend that had been muddled—a part that had turned more fiction than fact.
“Can anyone tell me what she is said to look like?” Professor Bjorn asked, as he leaned against his desk. Killian’s hand shot up in the air, and the professor gave him a small nod.
“That’s a trick question,” he said with a wry smile. “She looks different to different people.”
“Very good.” Professor Bjorn nodded. “Care to elaborate?”
Killian cleared his throat and plucked an invisible piece of lint off his pristine white sleeve.
“To some, she looks like a young girl, some say she’s the most beautiful Irish noblewoman they’ve ever seen, and some say she just looks like an old hag.” Giggles erupted in the air and Professor Bjorn shot Killian a warning look.
“For the most part, yes,” the professor nodded with a chuckle. “Most can’t agree on what she looks like, but there are a few things they can agree on. She has long, silver hair that flows past her shoulders and piercing lavender eyes.”
Ember closed her eyes and sucked in a breath.
She was transported back to the dream she had just a few nights prior, of the cottage in the woods with a woman washing blood-stained clothes in the stream.
Has she had a dream about the Banshee? Or was it just a coincidence?
She shivered as she wrapped her arms around her chest. Maybe she had read something that made her dream of it.
Maybe just a memory of the night in Arcelia.
Whatever the reason, she hoped she never saw the woman again.
Before she realized it, class was over, and Ember was throwing her books in her bag.
“To those it may affect,” Professor Bjorn announced, as the class packed their things, “please remember that Rukr tryouts have been moved to this evening. The pitch is heavily warded, and there will be Wardens on watch for your protection.”
He cleared his throat as they all settled and looked back at him.
“You have nothing to fear,” he continued, “as long as you stay within the grounds and do as the Wardens tell you. They are here to protect you. You’re dismissed.”