Bea
It begins with a groan, guttural and deep. I shoot up in Brennen's bed, my heart racing as I blink the sleep away.
“Hello?” I call out, my voice shaking.
“Helllllppppp meeeeee,” a pain-filled moan slithers through the tent, and I freeze.
The hair on my arms stands on end, a shiver running down my spine.
There’s a long moment of silence, and I rise to peek out of the tent, grabbing a branch from the pile of wood next to the fire.
“Who’s out there?” I ask, lighting the end of the stick and holding it out in front of me to search the darkness.
The After shudders, the ground beneath my feet rumbling. “Helllllppppp meeeeee,” the voice calls again, and I stiffen. I squint into the night, where a dark shape floats within the After. The moaning grows louder, the air suddenly crackling with energy.
“Who are you?” I call, but my voice comes out small.
The figure pauses their movement, and I take a tentative step forward. In an instant, several more shadows appear, as if my presence called them into existence.
“Who are you?” I say again, wading into the water. I don’t want to get near them, but my feet refuse to stop moving, a tug in my chest urging me forward, closer and closer until I’m less than half a dragon’s length away from where they hide in the black mist.
“It hurts,” one of the shadows says. A different voice, this time, and my stomach twists. I should turn around. Should hide in Brennen's tent and not emerge until morning comes, but the voice is familiar. My dàn of memory burns, and something tickles my mind, but still, I can't quite place it.
“Please, goddess, help me.” A sob of agony. Another voice. Then another and another.
My chain catches, and I stumble, even my dàn of steadiness no match for the abrupt stop. Pain shoots through my ankle, and I fall forward into the water. My torch submerges, extinguishing in a second, and only darkness remains.
“No,” I whisper, my blood running cold. I struggle to see in the abrupt shift to pitch-black night, and as my eyes adjust, a figure draped in shadow emerges from deep in the After.
She’s on her hands and knees in the shallow water, crawling towards me, her elbows bent at unnatural angles.
She looks more animal than woman, her hair stringy around her face, and her skin is grey and mottled.
She collapses as if in pain, and I reach out to try to help her.
She meets my eyes, but her face is cloaked in darkness. “It hurts,” she says.
“What hurts? How can I help you?” I ask, my voice coming out as strained as the others.
“They won't let me in. They won't let any of us in,” the woman wails.
“You have to help us.” Her hands claw at the riverbed as she fights her way toward me, and my heart pounds against my ribs as I scramble back.
She stops abruptly, as if she, too, is chained.
Something's holding her back. To her left, another hand appears, then a head.
A second crawling figure, cloaked in darkness.
I gasp, standing and turning away in horror.
“What’s happening? Who are you?” I ask, my voice shaking with panic.
“They won't let us in!” she screams again.
I cover my ears, unable to bear the agony in her voice. “Who? Who won’t let you in?”
“Help us!”
“I don’t know who you are! I don’t know how to help you!”
The woman shrieks as she’s yanked back with a sudden ferocity. There’s a crack, the darkness vibrating as she’s pulled with such violent force, water sprays several feet outward. I gasp as she disappears into the After in less than a breath.
The others try to flee. “Wait!” I cry. I need answers. I cannot help these souls if I don’t know who they are or why they’re here, but within seconds, they, too, are ripped down into the depths of darkness.
I close my eyes, listening for them. For their groans, but there’s nothing. The glen is completely silent other than the rushing of the river. I scramble back to the tent, my heart pounding against my ribs. What in the goddesses’ name had I just witnessed? Ghosts? Souls trapped by the After?
My heart stops, skipping a beat.
Are these the missing women?
They won’t let us in, she said. What if she’s talking about An Glèidheadair? Except, if that were the case, why did she say they? Am Breitheamh and An Treòraiche have no part in guarding the gates, too busy with their own duties along the path.
I take deep breaths, trying to calm the panic gripping my entire being.
What do these souls want from me?
And must I face them only now, when Brennen isn’t here?