The Hush of the World (ONC 2024)

Prologue

One hundred years ago

In a century, would they think of her - remember her?

Light was waning. A bari stood at distance below the mountain and between fields. The cries of ghosts and the furious crackles of the drowning, smokeless fire, dark and unbidden, were no longer carried by the wind to torment passerbys. The distant crackle of past fires fluttered around as soot embers. A village burned here once.

The gate beckoned up ahead, but she wished to dwell here for a while and stare at the solemn moon enshrouded in an eerie glow of clouds. But still, it emitted its strength, though faint, on the outstretched valley where a gap was. A gap suspended in air. A tear of fabric. Something a horse would spook itself over and canter away from. Something the wise village women would place in a cautionary tale to scare away every little child from the edge of the woods. But she needed to be here. For her parents, for her family, for her soul, and for her descendants. Once fae touched the only way out was in.

The procession was a small one. A palanquin, scuffed at the edges with claw marks and held by four pole bearers, made its way down the empty stretch of land that was once a river. Village guards flanked both sides, their hands ready on their swords in anticipation of any looming threat. The blood moon hung low, the path enshrouded in mist. Besides the rasps of shaky inhales, it seemed as though the world held its breath and the only sounds emanating were from the gangly birds with nacreous eyes that cawed overhead every so often, sounds that didn't belong on this side of the world. Helbirds, They were leaking through.

When the entourage passed by a trinket or two buried under the snow, they dared not dwell for too long, fearful that they might not be possessions, and even more fearful, that perhaps it might not have been snow that fluttered against their faces, and dusted the tops of their boots.

Layla rubbed her palms. Her muted, brown skin became pale in the harsh cold. She was as unaccustomed to these conditions, as most of the older generations in the village were. She wished her sister was here. She closed her eyes, taking in a shaky breath, and wished she was back in the warm glow of her land, never to encounter snow or chapped lips or the approaching dark. But her land was no more. She was keeping those she loved safe, and that was what she reminded herself with every time she felt like producing last nights leftovers. She hadn't eaten since.

Those who breached the veil were often fine, or so she heard in a tale or two passed by travelling wayfarers, peddlers. She comforted herself with the thoughts of her sister, too small to understand the way of the world and what had to be done. She wouldn't have to worry about that for long. She hoped or prayed. It didn't matter anymore. They owed them beauty that rivalled all men and women, and she was nominated.

The tikka swayed gently, cool on her skin but heavy atop her head. The most ornate headpiece she had ever worn. It reminded her of cardamom tea and fresh from harvest, but it also reminded her of how over dressed she felt and of her sister wearing a much smaller tikka as she watched her leave with tears in her eyes. She hoped this would be simple. Her people were depending on it. Every so often, her thoughts strayed to them, the creatures beyond the wall.

She sucked in a breath. Her sweaty palms held tight on both sides of the palanquin posts as it came to a jerking halt. There was sound now. The bloodbirds were nowhere in sight, and their cawing ceased several minutes ago. Now, there was a resounding shaa getting louder as they neared. Aleysa did all she could to keep her hands from trembling and her lips from quivering, but she failed. The procession slowed. A man cried out, and she realised it was the guard on the left.

The palanquin settled to the ground in a thud, and she almost fell out onto her knees if it weren't for the various layers of her dress weighing her down. Sat atop, swathed in cushions and colours, Layla retreated, eyes wide, until her back met that of the vehicle.

"We can not go any further than this." A guard or the self-proclaimed leader said, his voice almost swallowed up by the sight in front of them. A wall of hell spread metres up towering over everything. It was electrifying in its darkness. It was a transparent thing but so thick in its current it was difficult to see the other side.

It was an almost here and there thing. Visible but not quite, opaque but shallow, and it was chaotic and still, a thrum of energy that spanned as far as the eyes could see. The gateway reached up and down, deep into the ground as if it had risen from hell and found a new home. The veil was a mighty presence and one that made her very afraid, for on the other side was something she would not be able to comprehend- the Hollow.

Fumbling with her dress and gripping it tight at the edges, she slowly approached the veil- alone. Such was the duty of a sacrifice. The guards left the palanquin as if it was blighted. For a second, they could see it here, changed with the weather and passage of time, the claw marks becoming chunks of wood that splintered away, the paint faded and mottled against greenish wood. Until all that was left was a skeleton and the clothes now buried under the snow. they would leave it here to the elements rather than having to drag it back in tow with any injuries they might sustain. Little did they know the veil was sentient.

The mist was cooler near the gate. She felt it all around her and closed her eyes briefly as she muttered to herself more than anything.

"I am here."

A hiss, not one to pass the lips of a human scattered around the group like a breeze with a bite. It was as though it heard her, the tear or those beyond it. and all behind her screamed in agony. A presence, unearthly of sought hissed around her. An almost touch feathered against her shoulders and disappeared again. The moonlight shone against the world, and she saw it on the other side and plumes of flowers she could not identify.

Honour bound. She didn't dare whisper his name except by chance she might summon him. Going to him was worse enough. A fate of a bride was far worse an affair than that of a sacrifice- their pain ended shortly, and hers was infinite. Looking to the sky, she begged God for respite, but the clouds lay overcast and silent.

Another hiss permeated, this time louder as if beckoning her to enter. She held in her breath as she was all but pushed by some wind, her steps speeding to the nacricious veil looming ahead. She held her breath, not wishing to scream and lose her contents. But there were screams anyway for the men behind her let out bloodcurdling ones. She glanced back briefly before letting out one of her own.