And here's the rest. Again, my apologies…I think this site needs some maintenance done.
Keats was returned to the oozing passage he'd come from, and the door vanished behind him. There was someone waiting here for him this time, though: Fir Darrig.
"Kee hee, no luck, eh?" the little rat said, almost smugly.
"What on earth are you doing here?" Keats asked.
"Nya ha ha," Fir Darrig laughed. "I'm a Halflive. I can jump between worlds as freely as a bird in flight. Now, Keats, just where do you think that Lulu is? What is the place in the village that no one dares go?"
"What? Wait, you mean…beneath the Henge?" Keats exclaimed. "But there wasn't anyone down there on Samhain, and I can't get there now anyway!"
"There is a way to open the dolmen," Fir Darrig told Keats conspiratorially. "But I don't know what it is; only Livane can tell you. She knows that Henge inside and out."
"Why Livane?" Keats asked.
The rat chuckled. "Why, I wonder," he smirked.
Exasperated, Keats shook his head. "I can't go back to the village until I know how to open it…so, I need to venture further and find Livane."
"Livane is hiding this way," Fir Darrig told him. "Go and find her."
"I will," Keats said, turning around and proceeding down the corridor.
Some steps led down for no particular reason, and past them, a Rebel Denizen was waiting, its ears flapping at random.
"Essentially, living can be a frightful thing," it told him. "The ancients used myths to help overcome that fear, and we moderns use materialism. It is fear that drives our civilization."
This truth oddly resonated with Keats as he kept walking, following the bends in the rock that could be stood on. Another Rebel Denizen was a little further on.
"We've done our best to stop the Faerys' plans, but this Faery Lord is too powerful," it said. Then it added, "Despite appearances, Livane has been in the Netherworld longer than the Faery Lord."
"Is that so?" Keats asked rhetorically as he continued on, thinking of what Harriet had said about immortal Faerys. Is Livane immortal? Why does she need my help? Why would the Faery Lord be so bent on harming her if she's been around longer than him? There were so many questions surrounding the strange woman, even though he'd only started to think of them. Between one thing and another, there were too many questions here in the Netherworld, too many questions in Doolin…
Stairs led up to an archway, where another Rebel Denizen waited. "The room this way contains a contraption; a Folk is the key," it told him. "Find the Folk with a light bulb on its head, and absorb it first. If you succeed, the next door will appear."
Padfoot, then, Keats thought, nodding his thanks, and he stepped through the archway.
Immediately, he found himself in a round room that was strangely bright, as though it was outdoors, not a trace of fog or cage bars anywhere; later inspection would reveal that even though the light looked like sunlight, the actual source was the liquid rock oozing down from ceiling to floor here and there, which was glowing. Three Brollachan were here, along with one Padfoot. Keats focused on the Padfoot, which only took three hits from Pouke to release its Id; he absorbed it, then turned to the Brollachan, prepared to fight, only for them to simply vanish, and a door to appear at the center of the room, identical to the one that led to the Audience Hall. Well, that simplifies things! he thought.
Through the door, instead of the Audience Hall, Keats found himself back in the same room again. This time, two Answerer accompanied the single Padfoot; Keats absorbed the little Folk, and the others vanished as the door appeared. He went through the door, and was back in the same room a third time, this time with a single Answerer along with a Galley-Beggar making up the Folks he was to ignore. Again, he absorbed the Padfoot, the more dangerous Folks vanished, and Keats went through the door.
This time, the door brought him back to the foggy cage room with the Habetrot, Mystery Stones flanking the cage doors, though Keats noticed that one of the ones that had been white had turned red. Knowing now how to fight Habetrot, Keats used Exedra to quickly and expediently knock it down, though the time it reappeared with only a single clone was not one where he could tell which one was fake, as they both swung at different paces to each other; fortunately, he chose correctly. When there were eight, Keats just struck out as quickly as he could to banish the fakes, then blasted the real one with ice again, grabbed its Id, and absorbed it. Considering that he hadn't had any means of healing himself in a while, these trials had been incredibly forgiving.
A scrap of paper fluttered down into the center of the room, and Keats picked it up. It turned out to be the two pages, so it presumably depicted how to battle the Folklore: Annwn threw ice at eyeballs, what was presumably Spriggan caught a swinging fist in its own hand to block it, Habetrot dropped a cylindrical weight on a pursed set of lips that appeared to be on the ground, and Answerer slashed at something bulbous, its arm this time looking even more like a head with an arm behind it. Grateful, if confused, Keats pocketed the page, and then looked around. The door flanked by red Mystery Stones was open, but the one flanked by blue Mystery Stones was open, too, and so Keats took that path.
He found himself back on what looked like the same stone path, but was welcomed by the sound and sight of a portal flower, which he ran over to and touched with relief before proceeding down the stairs again. This time, there were two Rebel Denizens at the bottom, talking to each other, though they stopped when he approached.
"Livane is lucky to have you on her side," one of them commented. "If it weren't for you, there would have been nothing to stop the Faery Lord's plan."
"Why can't Livane stop it herself?" Keats asked. "Why would she need me?"
The two creatures looked at each other for a moment. Then the other one said, "Continue beyond this point to learn Livane's true form; she is also connected to the secrets of the village Henge. Belgae brought you into this knowing that was the case."
Unhelpful, Keats thought, but he didn't press the matter, instead continuing on. The next Rebel Denizen was waiting in front of the archway again.
"The room this way contains a contraption; the key is a Light Bulb Folk," it said as he approached. "This time you must absorb that one last. Go and scatter the Folks without light bulbs."
Oh dear, Keats thought, hesitating. What if one of the other Folks has an Id that struggles? This hardly seems fair…Still, with nothing for it, Keats braced himself and stepped forward.
Once again, he was in the round, bright room. Along with the Padfoot were six Thrumpin - not terrible opposition, though he had to be careful not to hit Padfoot while fighting the other Folks. He cleared the room and absorbed Padfoot without too much difficulty, and the door appeared; he stepped through it.
In the second iteration of the room, the Padfoot was accompanied by three Brollachan and…a Galley-Beggar. Not fair, Keats thought angrily as he chased down the Brollachan. Needing to avoid the Padfoot was even more annoying here, especially once it was only the little Folk and the Galley-Beggar; still, Keats persisted. Padfoot seemed to stop moving whenever it created its shock waves, and when Galley-Beggar's Id came out, Keats made it go off far away from where he stood to fight with the giant Folk's Id. Beating the spirit out as quickly as he could, Keats managed to take it before Padfoot attacked him; he then absorbed the little Folk, and went through the door that appeared.
What he found on the other side made him exclaim out loud, "Oh, come on!"
One Padfoot, one Galley-Beggar…and one Spriggan.
I had better be allowed to destroy Folks in this room, Keats thought furiously as he slashed at Spriggan with Answerer while trying to dodge the others, or this will be truly impossible.
Unless…I'm invincible when I transcend; maybe I can use that to my advantage here?
With no real reason not to, Keats dug down inside himself and summoned the incredible power he had at his command. Transcension was painful, but then he was able to fully channel the power of the Netherworld, and nothing could touch him. Using Answerer's very essence, he focused on defeating the Spriggan, cutting and cutting until the rocky creature's Id popped out, then grabbing it and wrestling with it. Galley-Beggar tried to hit him while he fought, but it couldn't even knock his grip loose, and Spriggan was absorbed.
That was all he could manage to maintain, and as soon as Spriggan was down, Keats returned to his normal state. Still, he'd just fought a Galley-Beggar and a Padfoot last time, so he knew it was possible.
From there, things went exactly as they had in the last room, and the door appeared. Through the orange light, Keats was once again deposited in the foggy cage room with Habetrot; it was no real challenge now, though that weight-dropping attack was as dangerous as ever, and the Folk went down quickly. All the gates were open after the brief blackout, including one that was now flanked by a red Mystery Stone and a blue Mystery Stone. Clearing the trials marked by red turned one of the white ones red, and clearing the trials marked by blue turned the other blue, ultimately opening the door, he thought as he picked up another small vial of red liquid and pocketed it. Does this mean I've reached the end of this place?
Through the newly-opened door, Keats was once again on the path of oozing rock, and was again greeted by the welcome sight of a portal, which he quickly used to heal himself before descending the stairs and finding…Livane.
"So, how do you like my home?" she asked as he walked up to her.
"Um, yeah," Keats said hesitantly. "Quite a place you have here…"
"Of course, it's not as if I'm mad about all these Faerys, walking around like they own the place," the strange woman grumbled. Then she amended, "Then again, I suppose I'm doing the same thing, so who am I to talk?"
"Do they ever try to hurt you?" Keats asked curiously. "Not that I'm really worried or anything."
"If they do, they'll soon learn what a big mistake they've made," Livane answered, and the way she said it, Keats didn't doubt her.
"Yes, well…I need to get beneath the Henge," Keats told her. "I'm searching for someone, and she might be down there."
"It is not up to me to grant your request," Livane told him. She tilted her head. "Exploring your past is one thing, but more importantly, how will the knowledge of your past affect the way you live? This is a matter for you and you alone to face."
"Why this all of a sudden?" Keats asked, surprised.
Livane gestured in the direction that led forward. "The path is blocked by a massive spiritual energy. It has materialized as a Mnemosyne." Her eyes were intense when she turned back to him. "What you see there is your own fears! Go back to the village, and know the depth of your fears. Prove to me that you can dispel the eternal agony of the maze inside your own consciousness. Only then will I give you the answers you seek."
Keats took a step back, alarmed by her hostility. "I…but…wouldn't it be better if the passage remains blocked?" he stammered. "It will keep Ellen away…"
The strange woman shook her head. "You claim that you wish to know your past, when in fact you are too frightened to face it," she said with what could have been disgust. "Your fears will immobilize you on your first step! You have the spirit of a Messenger, but you lack the strength. It would destroy you…"
Beneath his confusion and, yes, fear, Keats felt a bit of anger rise. "I've come this far," he stated. "I can keep going. And I will."
"Then do," she countered, if with less abrasiveness. "Prove you mean what you say. If you are strong enough, I will tell you everything; if you are not, nothing I say will be of any use to you anyway."
Deciding to let it go, Keats nodded. As he walked past, he heard her mutter to herself, "Those cursed Faerys. I hope they get lost in this place forever…"
Her anger isn't directed at me, he thought. This is difficult for her, as well. After all, her home is being invaded, unpleasant as the place might be.
Two Rebel Denizens were talking to each other a little ways past Livane. They both turned to him as he approached.
"I shall give you the wisdom you require to find your path," one told him.
"Is there a Folklore here?" Keats asked curiously. "I saw the pages, but they didn't make much sense…"
The person nodded. "The Folklore in the Endless Corridor is a living room called Fleshrum," it told him. "No matter what you do, it grits its teeth and bears anything inflicted on it. If you give it a good shake, maybe you'll surprise it to death."
"And that's…just ahead?" Keats asked.
"Yes, as is our home base," it said. "One cannot easily pass through it. This place has a special link to the Henge at the village."
Which is why my search for Lulu led me here, then, Keats concluded. The Rebel Denizen gave him some advice for strengthening his Folks, and reminded him that every creature of the Netherworld has a weakness.
"What about the Faery Lord's goal?" Keats asked. "What is he after?"
"If the Faery Lord makes it to the Netherworld Core, he will be able to reset the Netherworld," the second Rebel Denizen spoke up. "We would then return to the age of ancient myth, a simpler era."
"Would that be a problem?" Keats asked, thinking of the Undersea City. Then he fully realized the implications of this, and added, "Well, it certainly would be for me!"
"You should talk to Livane," the second person told him. "She's the one who first changed the settings of the Netherworld Core."
"She won't tell me anything yet…Thank you," Keats told them, and he kept walking.
There was one more Rebel Denizen along the path, just where it turned towards the stairs that led to the arch. "The Mnemosyne shudders when it eats a memory that frightens it," it told Keats. "Waves propagate in the vicinity, making passage difficult. The Mnemosyne prevents people from advancing past that point. To expunge it, the person causing the obstruction must overcome his fears."
And immediately past the little person was, indeed, a Mnemosyne. It was glowing and shaking, its weird chattering noise somehow more insistent than usual. As its bulb inflated, Keats reached out to touch it, and it burst, revealing a few flashes of images: under the Henge, a door…and then, a crest filled Keats's mind; it almost seemed to be screaming at him. The very sight of it was more terrifying than any Folklore; Keats didn't even realize it as he ran back to the portal and returned to the real world to escape it.
~o~
Crouching on the ground, Keats tried to catch his breath, the image only partially fading from his mind. What…?
"Keats! Where have you been?"
Keats looked up to see Mr. O'Connell running over to him. "O'Connell," he managed.
"Something terrible has happened," the man told him. "Come to the church."
Dazedly, Keats stood and followed him to the church, where he found everyone waiting, including Ellen.
"Well, speak of the devil," Ellen said as he came in. "We missed you."
Wordlessly, Keats walked in to join them. After an awkward pause, Ellen said, "Keats…Harriet was murdered this time, while you were gone."
"Harriet, too?" he exclaimed. "When will this stop…?"
By chance, his eyes found O'Connell, who was standing further inside. Unbidden, the image of the crest in Lulu's book came to his mind, and then it hit him over the head like a stone: it was the same thing the Mnemosyne had showed him.
"That pattern…I've seen it before," he said faintly, taking a step back. "Through the door, then the horrors follow…" And suddenly, it clicked. "That's it!" he exclaimed. "I went through that door long, long ago!"
"Finally putting things together?" Suzette asked, almost mockingly.
"Yes. Keats…" He turned at the sound of Ellen's gentle voice, and she gave him a sympathetic smile. "You're Herve," she told him.
Keats gasped for air, feeling dizzy. It all made sense. Ingrid, his mother, Cecelia…Herve. Herve. The sick boy who had been here when Cecelia died. The memories he'd seen in the Netherworld flashed through his mind, all of them now with new meaning. It all made sense…
Ellen walked over to him. "Your mother claimed you were dead," she said.
"Ellen…You knew, this whole time?" he asked faintly.
She said nothing.
"My past…It's all coming back," he whispered out loud. "My life was overshadowed by an obscure fear, but only now is that fear coming into focus." Even now, his mind tried to block it out, and he shook his head. "I must know my roots. But…do I dare unmask the horrors of my past?"
"It's up to you," Ellen said gently. "Though, if I may…it's only natural to seek the truth."
Keats had nothing to say to this.
"You need time," she finally said. "To think. Or, speak to someone who knew young Herve."
He nodded.
Ellen turned to go, and Keats's mind flitted to the reason he'd even gone to the Endless Corridor in the first place. His wasn't the only struggle…
"Ellen, wait," he called abruptly.
She stopped and turned to him. "Yes?" she asked.
"Did you…On Samhain, did you see any sign of anyone beneath the Henge?" Keats asked her, taking a step forward.
"Er…no," she replied. "Well, there was an old mummy down there, wearing the cloak, but it turned to dust the moment I touched it."
"Why would you touch it?" Suzette asked, bewildered.
"I'm…not sure," Ellen said, blushing slightly.
Suzette's presence reminded him of another thing he needed to resolve. So many people were counting on him, and he didn't even know who he was…"Listen, Ellen, I…I need to think, so…" He fumbled in his coat pocket for the letter from Charlotte. "Could you please…take care of this?" he asked, holding it out to her.
Curiously, she took it, opened it, and read it. "Yes," she said at last. "I'll take care of everything. Please, look after yourself."
"Thank you," he managed, and she left.
Suzette took a step closer to her brother.
"This explains a lot," she commented.
"Yes…" Keats stared into the distance.
"Are you all right?" she asked after a minute.
The question was so absurd, he couldn't help chuckling. "No," he replied. "No, I'm not."
"Hmm." His sister tapped his arm; when he barely responded, she walked away.
I'm Herve. But how? Keats turned back to O'Connell, who was now standing beside the church's altar.
"Unbelievable," he said. "You lived in this village as a little boy? But, why those memories hadn't surfaced earlier rather concerns me…You will be able to continue your trips to the Netherworld, I hope?" he asked abruptly.
The Netherworld. My memories, and also Lulu. "Yes," Keats assured him, despite his own doubt. "This way I can go ahead and discover the secret of the Henge."
Unstuck now, Keats turned and walked to what had been Dr. Lester's office, seeing Mrs. Lester standing inside. She's the only one left, he thought, and he approached her.
"Mrs. Lester," he began slowly.
She looked up from her own musings and faced him. "Yes?"
It took a moment to force the words out. "The letter that claimed Herve had died. It was a fabrication. You see, I…I am Herve."
"Oh!" the old woman gasped, her eyes widening, as though seeing him for the first time. "Yes, yes…I can see the resemblance."
Looking at her, he felt that he too was seeing her for the first time. "Now I remember," he said softly. "I once lived in Doolin. My name was Herve."
"You were a spirited lad, despite your illness," Mrs. Lester told him. "Always burying yourself in books, even trying to write one of your own. Keats…we all loved you." Then she frowned. "But…you were untreatable. My husband took you on to help you through your final days, but…there was no way you could have lived to adulthood. And yet, here you are. How can this be…?"
"Just what happened to me that day 17 years ago?" Keats wondered aloud. "Is it why I'm…alive? Why did Cecelia die?"
"There's no rush," the old woman said gently. "Go ahead and remember things gradually."
Keats shook his head. Some part of him still didn't want to remember, and most of the rest of him simply couldn't. In a daze, he left the church, passing Suzette with barely a glance at her, and walked back into the village.
Night had already fallen, and the portal to the Endless Corridor glowed by the car, but he didn't feel like going back. Instead, he went a ways down the road to the house where Suzette had been staying. She was in the church now, so it was empty, and he opened the door and went inside.
This used to be my home, he thought as the door closed behind him. I lived here when I was young, surrounded by these very walls. Sighing, he sat down on the couch, wondering how many times he'd sat on it before. It wasn't just that he had once lived here, it was the fact that he shouldn't have survived to adulthood…How is this possible? I saw the medical records; there was no cure. I should have died. But Cecelia died instead, and here I am today…
An ache budded in his chest. I wish mum was still here. Maybe she could tell me…something. Anything.
He took out the ceramic doll his mother had so loved and gazed at it. Even its significance to his mother was something he had never…
What's this? Keats suddenly noticed the corner of what looked like a piece of paper sticking out of one of the seams. Carefully, he took hold of it and tugged, and out slid a color photograph, miraculously no worse for the wear despite having been in the sea. Setting the doll aside, Keats took the photo in both hands and stared.
It was his family. His mother stood to the left; beside her, a man with black hair stood with his arm around her - Renaldo, his father, it had to be. And in front of them, with his mother's hand resting on his shoulder, was a boy. Shaggy dark hair, thin, a bit pale…
Yes, that's me, Keats thought. There I am…I remember now…Hazy memories swam towards the surface of his mind, muted, almost out of reach, but clearer than ever before. Memories of Doolin, of his parents, of…of weakness, of being sick. But there was more, more that he couldn't grasp…
The answers to all my questions are in the Netherworld, he thought. I must…go back. My fear…I am afraid, but I must find the answers.
I must.
Resolve filling his core, Keats pocketed the photo, stood, and opened the door. Waiting just outside was…Scarecrow.
"You?" he said, surprised.
The Halflive grinned at him. "Ellen went on ahead," he told Keats. "She defeated the Folklore and ventured deeper inside. She's trying to carry out the Faery Lord's plans. Should you let this happen?"
"I don't even know what he wants, let alone whether or not he's right in his thinking," Keats grumbled.
"Uwee hee hee!" Scarecrow laughed. "Keats, they spend too much time pondering the complexities of life…Do you enjoy fighting for your memories?" he asked abruptly.
Keats blinked. "Enjoy?…No," he answered. "I don't enjoy fighting at all - I have to fight Folks in the Netherworld, they aren't even people, but…consider all that's gone on in this village; it's enough to make anyone hate conflict. There's not a single thing to be gained from all this hatred. It only results in suffering, and death. Death…" He sighed heavily. "It's such a waste. Life is so precious. No one should end another's life. No one should want to."
"You're right, Keats," Scarecrow agreed. "Perhaps if everyone were like you, if they had the burden of a tormented, frightful past, then they'd probably stop all this killing in the first place."
"Oh, good heavens, no!" he exclaimed. "I would never want anyone to have to go through the same things!"
"Uwee hee hee," laughed the Halflive. "You always were such a kind soul, dear Keats." He smiled, but Keats remained unsettled. "Well, Keats," Scarecrow finally said, "it appears that you have overcome your fears. The Mnemosyne in the Endless Corridor has disappeared. Uwee hee hee!"
"But I've yet to remember everything," Keats said. "In fact, I have a feeling I may have missed something rather important."
"But you're not afraid anymore, are you?" Scarecrow pressed. "If not, then the Mnemosyne will have stopped shuddering."
Meaning I can continue. Keats took a breath, nodded a farewell to the odd Halflive, and walked to where the gateway stood glowing.
Once he was back in the Netherworld, he turned around, and used the portal flower to bring him back to where he'd been stopped before. A little ways down the path, Belgae was waiting.
"The Mnemosyne has been extinguished," he told Keats.
"Yes," Keats said. "It was formed from my fears…"
"It's amazing that such a terrible fear could have been overcome," Belgae commented. "Congratulations are in order."
"Thank you," Keats said absently, and he kept walking, ignoring the Rebel Denizens in his path.
Sure enough, there was no Mnemosyne; the path was completely clear. Unhindered, Keats walked up the stairs to the archway, and passed through.
He found himself in a room made of flesh. Eyes blinked at him from wall panels made of skin, alternating with spaces open to purple clouds sizzling with electricity, and a mouth set in the living, warty floor, stitches sewing the skin on either side of it shut, opened, as an enormous, beating heart came out. The heart sank back in, and the mouth closed.
That's it's weak spot, Keats thought, fighting his revulsion. I need to get it to let it out. The page, it showed…eyes first, then mouth.
There were two open eyes, and Keats wasted no time using Annwn to throw icicles at them. Each eye took three icicles before it rolled back as the lids closed, a horrible groaning sound coming from all around. When both were down, some Thrumpin began to appear, distracting him; he slashed at them with Answerer, and as he did so, he noticed that the mouth in the middle of the floor had bared its teeth. After the little Folks were out of the way, Keats summoned Habetrot, dropping a cylinder directly on the parted lips; the mouth opened, and the pulsating heart rose out like a tongue. He slashed at it, and was rewarded with flickers of the monstrosity's Id. After a few strikes, it began to leak; Keats thought nothing of it, until a gush of green-brown slime poured over him, rendering him immobile. Alarmed and disgusted, Keats struggled against his sticky bindings, and eventually they broke and vanished. Making a mental note to be more careful, Keats struck at the heart a few more times, until it sank back down and the mouth closed over it.
Eyes opened around him again, more this time - six, in all. As he ran for one, readying Annwn, one of the empty panels began to fill with light. Warily, Keats watched, and out of nowhere, a giant fist punched him, knocking him across the room. Even as he scrambled to his feet, Keats remembered the page depicting Spriggan catching a fist in its own hand. The next time one of the open portions started glowing, he summoned Spriggan to see what would happen; the bulky Folk curled around him, and the ensuing punch glanced off without even reaching Keats. Convenient!
With this shield in mind, Keats started attacking the eyes with Annwn again, shielding himself from the swinging fists as they came. After a while, white sparkles rained down from the ceiling, and this time, Keats preemptively summoned the Spriggan shield - a fortunate move, as a foot slammed down on him, but didn't manage to touch him. Safe from the arms and feet, there were no further complications; he shook the heart out, slashed it while it was exposed, hit the eyes - eight this time - when the room reset, and repeat. Naturally, Fleshrum's Id struggled, but it wasn't much of a fight.
Then, at last, it was over. The heart sank back down the throat, and the mouth snapped shut, then opened slightly as a cloudy purple substance began to ooze from the corners. Keats wasn't subjected to this for long, though, before a bright light drowned out everything; when he could see again, he found himself in the Henge, in broad daylight.
What? he thought, surprised. Why here? The differences between this place and Fleshrum couldn't have been greater - it wasn't the Henge he knew from the village, dreary even during the day; the grass was lush, and wildflowers grew in bundles. Above, the sky was blue and clear, the sunlight unlike anything he'd felt since arriving in Doolin.
Though Keats could have sworn he was alone, when he looked around again, he found Belgae standing in front of him.
"What is this place?" he asked the Halflive. "It looks just like the Henge in the village."
"This is our home, created by Livane's thoughts," Belgae answered.
Looking around, Keats noticed that the dolmen was the same here as it was in the real world, and he gestured to it. "Do you know how to open this?"
"You need to make an offering of a medallion," Belgae told him.
"I already did," Keats responded. "In the ruins up above, in the real world."
"Now that you have passed through the Netherworld, the medallion has metamorphosed," Belgae explained. "In ancient times, those with the Messenger's permission were able to go inside the dolmen this way."
In response, Keats took out the medallion, and found to his surprise that it had turned silver, almost glowing. With a nod of thanks to Belgae, he walked forward, towards the pedestal, which was glowing with purple light as it never did in the sun in the real world.
A couple of Mnemosynes stood around, making their weird chattering noises. They didn't swell up when approached, but they spoke, voices of people long gone echoing across time.
"Having learned the secrets of death, they no longer feared it," said one. "That is why they fought on and on."
"How could something like this happen?" asked another. "Something so barbaric…"
Creepy, Keats thought as he laid the medallion on the pedestal. Unlike anything else he had ever used at the Henge, now that it glowed, the medallion almost seemed like it belonged on the stone. There was light, and a slight rumble; then, the entrance to the dolmen was open, walled by green light just as it had been in the real world on Samhain. After only a moment's hesitation, Keats entered.
Livane was waiting.
"So, you made it," she said. "Well done. I owe you some answers."
"That you do," Keats agreed.
"Come in, then," she invited. "This land is the place we call our home. No Messenger has ever made it this far." The mysterious woman shook her head with something like wonder. "Ellen is really amazing, even considering her unusual circumstances. What power she has…She has the potential to become as powerful as the high priestesses of the ancients. She may be the one to defeat Baral, the Evil Eye who protects the entrance to the Core…and reach The Twin Trees."
"Unusual circumstances?" Keats asked, but Livane had vanished. He blinked, then decided to continue on.
More Mnemosynes lined the hallway, and as he passed, they spoke.
"I can't believe that humans like that could take over the real world…" said the first.
"We'll need to change things here," said the second. "If the secret of death is not maintained, then humans will engage in slaughter."
"Livane is our treasure." Emotion laced the words of the third. "We can't let her fall into the wrong hands."
"We must protect her," agreed the fourth. "We will hide her in the sanctuary."
"Ahh…Livane…" moaned the fifth. "Please, go safely to The Twin Trees. You must change the real world."
Relieved to be past them all, Keats opened the massive stone door at the end of the hallway. There were no more Mnemosynes waiting on the other side, for which he was grateful; he walked across the room, and where Ellen had first donned the Cloak of Sidhe, in front of what was almost a throne, Livane stood.
"And now, you must return to the village," she said to him as he approached.
"What is this place?" he pressed her. "A world that you created, you say?"
"This is my home," Livane answered. She sighed, then said, "We were the original natives of the Earth, but we were destroyed by the humans who came after us. I am one of the last…one of the last Messengers. Long ago, ancestors of humans mingled with our clan and shared knowledge of the Netherworld. Those humans who knew of the Netherworld neglected their lives in their own world. and continued with their wars and massacres, almost as if they welcomed death. And so, after a time, our tribes were wiped out by the humans."
Keats was left speechless.
"I was protected by friends," Livane continued, "and escaped to the Netherworld. 5,000 years ago, I was in the Netherworld Core. I thrust my spear into the one of The Twin Trees. All so that humans would not repeat the same mistake…"
"What are The Twin Trees?" Keats asked.
"It is they that create the bond between the souls in the Netherworld and the real world," she answered. "It is because they exist that the Netherworld is affected by the real world. But the thrust of my spear reduced the effect of your world to a minimum. As a result of that, humans lost their ability to live without fearing death." Another sigh. "They created their current civilization as a way to conquer their own weakness," she said softly. "Even under the yoke of fear of death, humans developed their reason and compassion. They are not there yet, but they are close…I know that a world filled with benevolence is at hand."
"You're expecting humans to bring that about?" Keats asked incredulously.
"Humans took my tribe from me," she reminded him. "But I do not blame them…" She shook her head. "Keats, you know little about the world outside a small boundary. Learn from others, and look inside yourself; then, and only then, will you be able to sort this out."
To this, Keats had no response.
"Let us meet again, in the next Realm," she said at last, and that was all.
Reflecting on everything, Keats walked to the back, and there, he saw the crest that had so frightened the Mnemosyne…frightened him. He stopped, wary of approaching it. His memories were still out of reach, but there was no doubt that one of the worst was tied to this sight…
Suddenly, Faerys came marching in. Alarmed, Keats turned around and rejoined Livane. She stood proud in the face of the approaching enemy.
"Humans view their lives within the paradigm of mortality," she declared, as the Faerys filled the room, not attacking but as if to trap her inside. "For generations, they have created legacies affirming their existence. The ephemerality of life makes it precious. Our own people, in contrast, were assured of peace in death, and created nothing. Only mortal men are driven to create things that are eternal."
"That was a mouthful," Keats commented.
"Keats…" She softened. "You have much to learn, but…may I ask, how is the world now, as you see it?"
Taking a moment before answering, Keats thought hard about this. "Not bad," he finally answered. "People overall are…immature, but as you say, we make our share of discoveries, and creations. I suppose…people are fueled by curiosity - learning new things makes them…makes us…feel alive." He hesitated, then added, "Livane, what you did long ago was not wrong."
Apparently satisfied, she nodded. "Excuse me, please allow me to greet the guests. Go to the village," she told him.
"Don't go over the top," was all he had to offer. Then, he turned and walked away. With nowhere else to go, he approached the crest; the moment he touched it, the Netherworld faded around him.
~o~
Though he hadn't used a portal, Keats found himself outside in the middle of the day, right next to the car where the entrance to the Netherworld had been, as always. Back here again, he thought. I still don't have my answers…but, if nothing else, I can give O'Connell his. Bringing his potential discovery about Lulu to the forefront of his mind, Keats turned and walked to O'Connell's door and opened it. The man was waiting inside.
"Lulu could be beneath the Henge," Keats told the scholar without prompting. "And, I've discovered how to get in."
"What?" O'Connell exclaimed. "So we can now search for Lulu?!"
"Yes, but we will have to wait until night to go to the Henge," Keats replied. "But, I couldn't find her in the Netherworld, so maybe she is trapped inside."
The wait would be torture for O'Connell, Keats could tell just by looking at him. But there was no help for it, and what was more, after all that had happened, Keats was tired. With no new information for Suzette, there was no reason for him to not simply return to Ingrid's hut, curl up in bed, and fall into a healing sleep.
~o~
After night fell, Keats woke, and went straight to the Henge. O'Connell was already waiting for him there, which was no surprise.
"Are you all right?" he asked the distraught man.
"What could Lulu possibly have wanted from these ruins?" O'Connell asked in reply, looking around with an expression that was almost hurt. "As far as I could tell, she was as happy as could be. She had a stunning intellect, good looks…no lack of friends. Why did she go away from me?"
Oh. Of course; why hadn't it occurred to him that O'Connell wasn't just looking for a colleague, or even a friend? "She…must be alive," he managed. "Let's go." He walked over to the glowing pedestal and placed the medallion. The effect was the same as it had been in the Netherworld - light, a rumble, and then the door was open.
"Unbelievable," O'Connell breathed as he followed Keats inside. "Lulu must have known about this when she went inside."
No Mnemosynes haunted the hallway that led to the chamber of glowing green stone, nor did any humans. Through the heavy door, the place was as empty as Keats remembered; Lulu was nowhere to be seen. All the same, the two men started searching around the place for some sign of her. Eventually, Keats reached the throne where Livane had just stood in the Netherworld.
"This is where Ellen donned the Cloak…" he murmured aloud.
"Someone has been here," O'Connell noted from behind him. "Quite recently, in fact."
On the stone seat, something sparkled.
"What's this?" Keats said aloud, reaching out and picking up the object. It was a small earring. "An earring? Ellen said there was a mummy sitting here, wearing the Cloak…"
"Let me see that!" O'Connell said sharply, walking over and holding out a hand. Keats handed over the little piece of jewelry. As O'Connell looked at it, his expression crumpled. "My God…No…" he whispered, turning away.
"O'Connell?" Keats asked, concerned.
The man stood too still, shoulders slumped. Then, he began to laugh, hysterically.
"This is her earring!" he managed. "It all makes sense. The mummy Ellen saw here…was Lulu!"
Keats gasped. "But, you said she'd only been gone for a week!" he exclaimed. "Ellen made it sound like the thing was old, said it crumbled into dust when she touched it…"
O'Connell rounded on Keats, a wild look on his eyes. "You…You told me that she was alive!" he roared.
Alarmed, Keats took a step back.
All at once, O'Connell slumped down again, as though all his emotions, all his energy, had simply drained out through the floor. "The truth is, she disappeared half a year ago," he said in a voice barely above a whisper. "I knew it…but I couldn't face the truth. It always felt…like just the week before."
There was nothing Keats could say.
"I can't believe this," O'Connell murmured, turning his back on Keats again. "Why did I allow you to ever give me hope? I don't deserve to go on living…" And he stumbled out of the chamber.
Stunned, Keats stood immobile. He had hoped to at least give someone a happy ending, and it had backfired; it seemed only tragedy could be found in this place. This place…of the dead…the Cliff of Sidhe, which people jumped off, hoping to find peace…
Suddenly alert, Keats ran after O'Connell.
Outside, it was somehow already daytime. There was no sign of O'Connell, and Keats hurried to the village. Just inside, he bumped into Suzette.
"There you are," she said.
"Suzette! Have you seen O'Connell?" he asked frantically.
His sister blinked. "That scholar? Uh, yeah, I saw him wandering around in sort of a daze. He was heading for the Cliff of Sidhe."
"The cliff?" Keats exclaimed.
Suzette frowned. "Do you think he's all right?" she asked.
"We…we just found the remains of his, uh, colleague, Lulu, under the Henge," Keats told her.
"Oh." To his surprise, she nodded. "Yeah, I suppose everyone knew that O'Connell's girlfriend was probably dead. It was just that no one could bear to shatter his hopes that she had gone missing only the week before and would return." She hesitated, then gently added, "He needed someone to help him face reality, to tell him the truth."
"You knew?" Keats asked, bewildered. "Suzette…why didn't you say anything?"
She gave him an odd look. "You never even told me you were looking into it," she pointed out.
"I…" Thinking back, Keats realized he hadn't. When had he last talked to Suzette about what he'd been discovering? "I'm sorry, Suzette," he told his sister. "I'm sorry. I've just been so…" Words failed him, and he looked anxiously in the direction of the cliff.
"Go," she told him. "We can catch up later."
"Thank you," he said gratefully, and he ran to the cliff, praying he wasn't too late.
O'Connell stood under the archway at the edge of the cliff; Keats was relieved to see he hadn't jumped yet.
"O'Connell! Don't you dare!" he called, running up the hill as fast as he could.
The scholar turned around.
"You mustn't do anything rash," Keats told him. "I'm…I'm so sorry. It's all my fault. Please…"
"No, it is I who should be apologizing," O'Connell told him, taking a step away from the edge. "I'm sorry I said all of that. I didn't mean to worry you. I was not myself. I should have never blamed you, after all the effort you made for me." He sighed. "Death is a part of life. There is no way around it. In Lulu's case, I just could not bring myself to accept it. You…told me what I needed to hear. In order to overcome my predicament, I first needed to face the depths of my despair. Perhaps they were a mirror of the depth of my love for her. I still have little idea of what to do, but someday I will achieve closure, and get back on my feet again."
"Good," Keats breathed, nearly collapsing with relief. No more death. Please…
"You have helped me," O'Connell said; "I'd like to repay you."
"Oh?" Keats blinked.
Gravely, the scholar nodded. "I think it's fair to say that you are disturbed," he stated matter-of-factly. "You do realize what this all means, don't you? These trips to the Netherworld, and such…"
"Don't say another word!" Keats cried out. "I…Sometimes I don't know what's happening, but…!"
"You once lived in this village," O'Connell pointed out. "That's why you have memories of the dead."
"But…" Why was it hard to agree? Hadn't he thought the same thing just days before?
"There is something I would like to try," O'Connell told him. "It should shed some light on your lost memories."
At this, Keats calmed. Yes. Anything to get his memories back…