Inessa’s foot slips. The ground has become uneven. The leather strap on her sandal snaps. This miserable detail pushes her to scream. A surge of anger and resentment fills her lungs. She gazes at the ancient Fhuen Dolmen temple. Even though the structure is twelve miles away, the enormous flat stones, each the size of a small mountain, fill the horizon.
"Where are you going, Inessa?," she whispers fiercely to herself. "Off to awaken the old gods.”
The afternoon passes. Thick gloomy clouds briefly fill the valley and partially obscure the temple. Inessa makes a small campfire. She fears it might rain, but the clouds roll out just as quickly as they rolled in. The enormous temple is suddenly illuminated in red and gold by a single beam from the setting sun.
As Inessa stitches up the broken strap, she notices the massive stones are adorned with intricate carvings and symbols. On the highest stone there’s an engraved mural of a long line of bearded men dressed in layered scale armor. Each man is carrying a long spear in one hand and a severed head in the other. She slowly realizes the carvings must be gigantic, at least two hundred feet tall.
She makes tea from herbs she’s carried from her homeland and dunks a hard dried biscuit into the tea until it softens. She drinks the tea and feels the warmth spread through her body. This is where she will camp for the night. Tomorrow she will find the road, make her journey to the temple and ring the bell.
The clouds move back into the valley as Inessa sleeps under the canopy of a large banyan tree. She is awakened by the sound of a long deep hum and the booming of drums. She rubs her eyes and tries to focus in the dark. There’s a soft purple glow emitting from the Fhuen Domen. The glow pulses and long streaks of soft lightning flow up from the top of the largest stone to the clouds. The voices of the Ancient Ones meander through the valley. She watches for only a few moments before going back to sleep.
Inessa is awakened by tiny yellow birds arguing in the tangled branches of the banyan tree. The sun is low across the horizon and the cloudless sky is blue and lavender. She packs her gear in a small sack and ties her wool blanket around her shoulders as a cape. She grabs her walking stick and tests the repaired strap on her sandal. It seems to be holding.
Walking in the direction of the temple, she finds the graveled trail that leads up into hills and to the Fhuen Dolmen. The trail is sprinkled with small chunks of pyrite that glisten in the morning sun.
After a couple of hours of walking along the ancient path, Inessa finds herself in a forest of pinion pine trees. The path is uneven and difficult to navigate, but she continues on. The trees tower above her, their needles casting dappled shadows on the ground. The air is thick with the scent of pine, and the sound of her footsteps crunching on the gravel and fallen needles. She struggles against the incline. When she finally reaches the top of the trail, the forest clears and the temple suddenly comes into view. It’s much larger now and looms high above the treetops. The stone walls stretch above her casting long shadows. She wonders what kind of dark magic could have built such an incredible structure.
At the top of the hill the forest opens up to expose a large meadow. The sun shines down, illuminating thousands of small white fragrant flowers. Inessa is stunned by the simple beauty of the place. The air is filled with the sweet aroma of the delicate flowers and the sound of the switchgrass dancing back and forth in the wind. She decides to take a short rest and explore the meadow.
In the center of the meadow, she spots a large tree stump. It’s a magnificent sight, towering over the grass, as if it were a sentinel guarding the flowers from the Fhuen Dolmen. Climbing to the top of the stump, she gazes out at the breathtaking view. The temple is a colossal island in the middle of a sea of green and yellow trees.
Sitting on top of the flat, sawed surface, Inessa pops open the cork to her leather flask and tilts back her head to let the clear water trickle down her dry and parched throat. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and studies the landscape.
Over the ridge and hidden in the trees, Inessa sees the edges of stone roof tops. Some of the roofs are caved in with thick vines growing over the eves. It appears to be abandoned. Inessa stands on the tree stump to get a better look. There doesn’t appear to be any movement or sound from the village.
She stands there for a moment uncertain what to do. A premonition of dread fills her heart and she is tempted to leave the meadow and continue her journey. Then an overpowering desire to investigate urges her forward toward the ruins. She wants to see if there are any people left. She has not spoken to a living soul for weeks.
Inessa makes her way through the trees until she reaches a clearing that is a circle some five hundred feet in diameter. Small, ancient stone huts line the circumference of the circle. Each small rectangular doorway of the huts faces the middle. The structure in the middle fills her with dread and sets her trembling.
It’s a large onyx globe fifteen feet high. Sitting on top of the globe is a misshapen gnarled idol. Its hideous claws gripping into the globe and its deformed face of a half man and half owl is fixed in a permanent snarl. It is ancient, but none of its features have been weathered by rain or wind. Roots wrap around the base of the globe and thousands of tiny silver flies buzz around the idol.
Her heart pounding and scarcely being able to breathe, Inessa slowly approaches. As she gets closer, the air becomes stagnant and heavy. The acrid rolling scent of death and decay drifts into her nostrils.
Inessa suddenly stops short. Around the base of the idol are human body parts. Arms and legs and trunks but no heads. Maggots and flies swarm around the carnage. Body parts are strewn haphazardly around the idol. The onyx globe is covered in blood. This is not an ancient sacrifice. These body parts are no more than ten days old. Her heart pounds inside her chest.
This is a forbidden place. This is the Death Circle of the Ojah eh Ohtamo. They have other names like Death Eater and Blood Magi. Names that were spoken by her grandmother in the shadows of the moon. For a moment her mind cast back to five years ago.
Her grandmother lays on a wide bamboo cot. Her eyes are closed, but a gentle smile plays on her lips as she listens to the child's eager questions. Inessa sits cross-legged beside her grandmother.
“What happened when you rang the bell? Tell me!”
The old woman draws a labored breath. She reaches out and grabs Inessa’s hand and pulls her close to the cot.
“I never rang the bell, child.” comes the low raspy voice. “I was prevented by the Blood Magi. The bell serves them, not us.”
Her grandmother released her hand and Inessa fell backwards. “Watch out for the Blood Magi. They kill anyone who approaches the Fhuen Dolmen.”
Inessa suddenly feels exposed in the clearing. She peers into the forest. Dark shadows move across the trunks and branches creak in the wind. She imagines hundreds of Blood Magi leaping through the trees into the clearing, grabbing her in an instant and dragging her back to their camp.
She scrambles from the presence of the idol. Her heart is pounding. She’s filled with dread and fear. Her legs feel heavy and numb. Twisted roots of a pine tree catches her foot and she stumbles, but she is immediately back on her feet again. Running, running, running for safety.
Finally she breaks through the trees and into the meadow. She is breathless and panting from exhaustion. The sun shines upon the tree stump and the scent of the white flowers hangs in the air. She is filled with joy and relief, but it occurs to her that she may be the only outsider to witness a Death Circle and live.
Inessa finds the path on the other side of the meadow. The glittering, winding trail leads up into the forest. She quietly enters the forest. This is the last part of her journey. She will ring the bell and quickly escape. And then the long trek back to her home and the safety of her village.
She cautiously makes her way along the winding forest path. Her gaze darts back and forth as she takes in her surroundings, the dense trees and underbrush offering little comfort. Her nerves are on edge as she climbs the hill, the sound of twigs and pine needles snapping underfoot only amplifying her anxiety.
The ancient temple at the top of the hill looms large before her, its worn stone walls and columns seeming to reach for the sky. Despite her fear, she continues on. As she draws near, she can feel the weight of the temple's ancient magic pressing down on her, and she can't help but wonder what secrets lay within its walls.
Boom, boom, boom - Inessa freezes. Boom, boom, boom. It’s the beat of a supernatural drum. The vibration thunders through the forest, ricocheting off tree trunks. A moment of silence and then again, boom, boom, boom. The drums are closer. The direction is from behind her, in the meadow.
Boom, boom, boom - This time very near, perhaps two hundred meters at the entrance to the path. Inessa knows in an instant that the Blood Magi have discovered her tracks and they are hunting.
A cold sweat drenches her body. She carefully backtracks several steps and then silently leaves the path and into the forest. Inessa crouches behind a large pine tree and watches the path through the trees.
Boom, boom, booms - The drums are very close and the sound pounds in her ears. She suppresses a fearful cry by placing her hand over her mouth. The drumming stops.
Three figures appear on the path. They are tall men with long stringy arms and legs. They are completely ghost white, covered in a thick layer of bone ash. And they are armed with long barbed spears and thick clubs with teeth and bones sticking out of the wood.
The leader reaches the end of the tracks and stops. He holds up his hand and the other two stop in place. The leader peers into the forest and then back down the path. He raises a battle horn and blows. A hideous note wails from the instrument like the voice from a tortured banshee.
It is too much for Inessa and she bolts. She can feel the cold hand of death on her neck and it drives her into a panic frenzy. She runs through the trees, jumping over roots and branches. There’s a crash through the undergrowth to her left, not more than twenty five meters away.
Six white figures burst through the trees. She can see every detail now. Their chalk white faces are streaked in bloody diagonal stripes and their gleaming teeth have been shaved into a row of sharp fangs.
Inessa turns up the hill, towards the direction of the temple and runs blindly through the trees. She is smaller and more agile than the Blood Magi, but the strength is draining from her legs. Her only thought is reaching the temple and ringing the bell.
She can hear her pursuers closely behind her. Stumbling and tripping on roots and branches, shouting instructions to each other in a strange, dark and ancient language. She races on, driven like an animal. She trips over a long green vine and falls headlong over a tree trunk. But it hardly slows her momentum. She’s up in an instant and running.
Through the trees, she sees the enormous doorway to the Fhuen Dolmen. Her heart surges with determination and she rushes toward it. The forest opens up and there is a clearing around the temple entrance. She sprints across the gap, followed closely by a dozen warriors. They are screaming at her. Spears fly past her head and an ax cuts into the ground in front of her feat.
And then she’s into the doorway and running down a long stone tunnel. The Blood Magi stop at the entrance; they do not take a single step inside the temple.
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