The Cultivated Girl

Chapter 5 - Newgrange, Ireland

The story so far...

Simone manages to escape the stone cell and discovers a marbled subterranean world and a mystical tri-faced statue. When a swarm of girls fill the corridors she hides in a ceiling shaft and overhears three sinister witches talking about sacrificing the new recruits. Something so abhorrent rises up out of an underground lake that she faints.

What was Simone so afraid of? 
Is she one of the sacrifices?
And does she ever get that meal she's after?

Read on to find out if she manages to escape the Isle of BastBula or becomes fodder for the Goddess.

It was a full, cold butter moon that illuminated Newgrange's kidney shape. It was so big it sucked the Irish Sea towards it in one great gulp, threatening to drown the pale shore when it spat it back out again.

But that was almost 50km away and of no immediate concern to the three dozen people clustered inside the ancient temple. Their only light came from the steady flame of a single fat candle. The temple's sides were marked with triple spirals, the exact same design as those carved into the soft grey walls of the low slung chamber and looping up the cheekbones of the assembled coven.

The effect was ethereal. The black spirals and white paint split the women's faces into two jagged halves, without which their wispy lace masks would have been ineffective. Together, mask, paint and patterns created shadows from their features. Even Simone would have struggled to recognise the leader as her au pair.

Amira straightened to her full height.

"Blessings upon you Sisters," she said, her voice low. The space was so compact there was no need to shout.

"Great Goddess, she whom we call BastBula. We greet you. We bow down before you here in this sacred space, your womb."

"BastBula, BastBula," the others murmured.

"The Sanctuary has need of you."

"Great need."

"We, the Guild of Destroyers, the seventh of the thirteen guilds, understand you Great Mother. We know that as you bring life, so too do you bring sweet death."

"Birth and death, birth and death," they chanted.

"For too long man has desecrated you. He has poisoned your waters and tainted your air. The cries of your suffering creatures fly on every wind. He must be punished."

"Punish him. Punish him."

"There are those in the Sanctuary who would betray you. They seek balance and equality. They think man and woman can hold hands and fix the future. They have forgotten the Dark Times. They have forgotten the evils done to the daughters of BastBula".

"Evil."

"The Destroyers do no such thing. We will bring about chaos and destruction."

"Chaos. Destruction."

"And from the ashes of the Earth the survivors will start a fresh new world in your honour. BastBula will rise again."

"How? Tell us how," they crooned.

"With the Diplomat's daughter. She is the key." Amira paused for effect. "Great Goddess, hear my plea. Open the portal. Give me Sanctuary. Here, in this holy place, grant me passage to the Isle of BastBula. With this breath you gave me, I extinguish the light."

The solitary candle snuffed out and darkness rolled in. It formed a tangible presence in the tiny chamber, making the inhabitants huddle together to give it more room.

All except one. Amira stepped backwards until her straight back was pressed against the stone. She rose her hands steadily in the darkness, rolling her wrists as she muttered incantations. Then silence.

Now the ancient perigee moon was wanted. Outside and unseen by those within, it melted heavily toward the horizon. It dipped long fingers of yellow light towards the grassy mound.

A thin spread of butter crept in through a tiny hole in the ceiling. It thickened and dripped to the floor, where it inched closer to the waiting figures. Amira held her breathe until the room was spinning and all she could see was the long beam of moonlight marking the passageway.

Finally the sticky light reached her, covered her for one brief moment. Then the fat moon rolled on and the effect was lost. The chamber recloaked itself in thick darkness.

With trembling hands, one of the masked members of the company relit the candle by feel. Amira, High Priestess of the Guild of Destroyers, au pair to Simone Smith, was gone.

***Thanks for reading. Loving all the feedback, thank you so much.

And as always, let your fingers do the talking with a clickety click on the star :-)***