I woke to find myself bathed in sweat, the cool air of the mountains chilled my spine. But in different way than I was used to. It wasn’t the winter months, and it wouldn’t be at least three more weeks till the first snow would start covering roofs and land. It was a different feeling, something felt… wrong.
I tucked a sheep-woolen robe around me, at this point, I feared my scales would fall off like icicles. The dark of my chamber told me the time of day; pitch black, it would be several hours till sun and the light of day would appear. Perhaps I needed something strong, to calm my nerves. I sat on my bed for a couple of minutes, trying to accustom my eyes to the dark of night, I could make out the nightstand next to my bed, but not much further than that. On top of the nightstand stood a thick wax candle, I had used it to read the past evening. A small copper bowl was placed under the candle’s base, to keep the wax from dripping.
I took it with my left hand, while opening the drawer to my nightstand with my right. I was sure that I had placed the tinderbox in there, but it wasn’t there now. My window had it’s curtains drawn, the fabric felt stiff and cold in my hand. No moon or stars lit the night sky, but I didn’t remember it as being cloudy when I went to bed. I had to find a light-source, if I wanted to make any progress in our manor. Fortunately my honoured father’s study was in the room right next to mine, I knew he would have a tinderbox in there, and that the study wasn’t usually locked.
The door to the hallway opened with a silent gasp, and for a second it felt like something big had rushed down the long, carpeted wooden floor. I held my breath, gathering my courage and looked out. But the hallway was just as dark as my room, and there was no sound of… something, going down into the lobby. With my right hand on the wall, I slowly fumbled my way to the study door. Father had been very specific about every piece of furniture in there, as well as the door, with the handle in the shape of a small dragon. The metal was cold to the touch, freezing, almost hurting in the very instant my fingers embraced it. I could see my breath as small clouds coming from my nose and mouth, as I pushed against the door.
The study had no windows, so the only light-source in there would always have to be a candle or a lantern, if the fireplace in the back of the room wasn’t lit. For this reason, it struck me as very strange, when I felt a short gust of icy wind rushing out between my legs, as the door was opened. I shuttered and squinted my eyes to peek inside. There it was, the tinderbox, right on the corner of my father’s study table. I rushed over, and lit my candle, putting the tinderbox away in my robe.
When the light was struck, I looked around, all the bookshelves had a fine cover of… frost. And inside the fireplace was a lump of snow, which would only be possible if the wind had been coming from a very specific angle. Shivering, I left the study, my father did have some alcoholic beverages in here, but those would be the finest vintage and most pricey drinks, so the thought of indulging in those would never occur to me.
The flickering light from the candle spread throughout the hallway. I immediately noticed that the door to my parents’ bedroom was open. I lurched closer, silently, as to avoid disturbing them. I couldn’t hear breathing coming from in there, so I pushed open the door. Their bed was empty, but from the look of their bed-covers, they had both left recently. I looked around in the room, but nothing seemed to suggest why, or where, they would have gone.
Heading downstairs, I found the door to the servants’ quarters had been knocked outward, and was now laying on the big, round carpet in the lobby. My father would not be pleased with this. I peeked inside the quarters briefly; no sounds and no-one appeared to be concerned. It was then that I noticed some deep claw-like marks by the door-frame, likely the cause of the door not being in it’s rightful place. I traced down the rough markings, the thick lumber, from which most of our manor was built, had been cleanly pushed in. Something very large, and undoubtedly very strong creature had made these marks.
The kitchen was a mess, plates had been torn out of cupboards, drawers broken apart and all my mother’s fine silvery had been scattered across the floor. This room, just like any of the other rooms, had a laying of frost on every surface. Where the kitchen looked as if a war-band had just been through on a raid, the pantry was surprisingly untouched. It didn’t take me long to find not only the alcohol belonging to the household, but also the private stash of our kitchen maid, Kirona. I had initially sought to let my father know, but despite Kirona sometimes being rather tipsy, she, as my father so boldly would proclaim; “Was the best damned cook for miles.” And I wasn’t exactly in disagreement with him on that note.
I had swiftly grabbed a tankard from the mess in the kitchen, and placed it on a shelf to pour. I had selected a half-full bottle of brandy. The cork was a bit stubborn, but finally it gave way, the pleasant, sharp scent of the brandy quickly went to my nostrils, already making me feel warm inside. As I took the first swig, a loud crash came from the lobby. I stowed the bottle down next to the tinderbox, and went to look with the candle in my left hand, the tankard in my right.
The double doors to the lobby and out in front of the manor, had swung open with some force, but no-one appeared to be waiting. I wasn’t much for leaving the manor, but when I looked out over the hillside, I felt I needed to investigate; footsteps, all leading away from the manor, through a fine layer of otherwise undisturbed snow. I collected and donned my good walking boots, and began to follow.
The footsteps would lead towards the village and in between the houses, never was there a set of prints heading a different way, always moving in unison. I had seen the village at night before, usually, there’d be light in the windows here and there, in particular the tavern, where those who had ended a late shift in the mine would usually spend the night. But there were no lights on. Every house, hovel and street was dark, cold and empty. I noticed a couple of open doors, but decided it better for me to not look in. More footsteps joined in with those from the manor. And they were all heading towards the entrance of the mine.
My candle had almost melted down, when I got to the foreman’s office. With it’s interior looking just like the kitchen; ravaged, as if someone… or something, had been searching for valuables or other items. In the last remaining light from the candle, I found a filled lantern that wasn’t broken. The lantern didn’t provide warmth as the candle did, so I poured myself some more brandy to balance it out. The foreman also had extra working gear, rough and primitive as it as, it would ward of the freezing cold better than nothing.
There was no snow inside the mine, and with the multiple shafts branching out as new veins were discovered, it was a labyrinth of caves, carved by hand for profit. Many times I would stop to listen, but apart from my own heartbeat, it was as silent as the grave. I had been walking for about an hour, always descending deeper into the earth, when I heard it. At first it was distant, like a deep, humming song, but as I got closer, I realized that it was a choir of voice, in a language I could not comprehend.
I turned a corner and almost dropped the lantern in shock; before stood every man, woman and child from the village, as well as my mother and father, with their backs to me. They were all facing a wall that didn’t look carved. It looked… alive, like a writhing mass of stone tentacles, slowly twitching, twirling in a mesmerizing dance. A deep, strange voice echoed in my head, the voice was powerful and I stumbled to my knees. I could not understand the voice, and it seemed to get louder as I didn’t answer. Finally I manage to scream “What do you want?!?!” and the voice stopped.
Everything went dead-quiet in that moment, and now the congregation of people began to turn towards me. Slowly, one by one, they would turn in their stead and look at me. But to my horror, their faces were… blank, well… gone. No mouth with which to talk, no eyes with which to see. The same was the case with my parents, no faces, just an empty wall of flesh. And yet I felt them staring, it was clear that I had interrupted something I was not meant to see. When the last person had turned their faceless head to look at me, the mass of people all reached a hand toward me and pointed at me. The wall-creature behind them made some kind of sound, and now they began to slowly approach. I instinctively held up my hand to stop them, and as a I did, a skeletal figure emerged from my palm, grinning it’s toothy skull at me, before blasting against the mass of people, knocking several of them down like a gust of wind against a stand of reeds.
Terrified, I screamed. And then I woke up. For real. My heart was racing, my bed soaked in my sweat. And in my clasped fist, was a tiny ice-crystal on a chain. In my head I heard a friendly humming, beckoning me to put the necklace on. And I did.
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