I’m not sure whether it’s a celestial blessing or a demonic curse, but locating her is actually the easiest of my problems.
It’s her temper that leaves a very obvious trail of destruction in its wake—she doesn’t even care.Fists and wings smash against wraith bones and ashspawn.She tears fungus from bark, rips gnarled trunks from the earth and hurls boulders around like baby toys.The noise she makes is a twisted little birdsong well suited to the underworld.
The screeching increases; it’s a leathery sound, pitched with steel and necrotic moans.
It scuttles through me, making every cell shrivel, my joints curl against muscle and my feathers shiver in their follicles.
After failing to find any cuts in the Veil to pass through to the mortal realm, Interitus makes her way through the outer fungus fields and into the heart of the underworld.Like a helpless kitten, I follow.In the distance, an ominous tower spears the ground.
Inverted.
I don’t understand how it stays upright.It balances on a single thick finial that plunges into the scorched earth.
The tower is all wrong.That wrongness seeps into me like an infection.
A single door sits nestled in the finial and then the tower grows thicker and wider the higher it rises until it pierces the clouds and vanishes, hiding the base from sight.
Where our celestial buildings are bright and glassy, those here are dark and burnt.Long nail-like windows suck in light and spit out undulating ribbons of magic that make me itch.
Wraiths and hideous little creatures crawl around the heart of the underworld.We don’t know how to cut our way out, yet, but if wraiths get through to the mortal world, I have an awful feeling that is our best bet.Not least because I want to save myself.This is no place for a celestial being, though Interitus seems to fit it far better than I do.
I wheel into a darkened alley.It’s lined with decayed and crumbling buildings.Mould crawls up the walls—the only splatter of colour in this dreary world.
Interitus stands at the end of the alley.Two shadowy mortal souls hover several feet away from her.But she is cornered by a wraith.
Its mouth hangs low, body skeletal and dried like old fruit.The wraith’s teeth are yellow, it’s skin flaking and necrotic.My mouth curls, my nose wrinkling at the smell wafting down the street.
Interitus swings her fists at the ghastly creature, but it’s fast and catches her fist.It shoves her and she tumbles further down the alley.Long, wrinkled legs power after her, skittering and skulking the entire way.
I pick up my pace, the hobble turning to a staggered jog.My wings finally kick in.Survival instinct awakens their aching feathers, dragging me up enough so my feet skim the slippery cobbles and propel me down the street.
Interitus plays dead, but I spot her lashes fluttering.She lurches up at the last minute, kicking both her feet into the middle of the wraith’s chest.It surges back, smashing into the alley wall.
And lies still.
It’s not dead, of course.I mean, not more dead than it already is.But it’s certainly whatever form of unconscious exists down here.
She turns to the souls—shades—if I remember rightly.
“How do I get to the mortal world?”she asks.
The shades glance at each other and shake their heads.
Interitus jolts forward.The shades startle and dart away.But Interitus is quicker and whips her wing out.The serrated edge digs into one of the shade’s translucent figures.
“What are you doing?”I hiss at her.But she ignores me, not even turning to acknowledge me.
“I said, how do I get to the mortal world?”Her words are coarser than a growl.They’re spittle and rage, filled with the heat found in scorn and spite.
I inch away, unsure I recognise my sister.I thought if I continued to follow her, I may be able to prevent her hurtling towards tragedy.
That I could save her.
But the fall seems to have unleashed an ugly side within her.As though with each step closer to her goal, the more layers of innocence she sheds.What worries me, is that all I see beneath her layers are broiling oceans filled with poison that one day even the wraiths will fear.
The shade trembles against the bladed feather buried in her back.
“Run,” she whispers to her friend, who hesitates and then does as she’s told, vanishing down the alley.
