The Remaining
Copyright 2014 Cinnibar Rose
Table of Contents
Chapter one
Chapter two
Chapter three
Chapter four
About Cinnibar Rose
Connect with Cinnibar Rose
A word on Irish terms
While the author has made every attempt to ensure accuracy of the Irish words used in this e-book, it is possible that the following translations are incorrect. The author is not a native speaker, and apologises for any inaccuracies that arise from use of Google Translate.
Saoire! ……………………………………………………………….. Leave!
Codladh na Gealai …………………………………………………... Sleep of the Moon
Anamacha Aontaithe ………………………………………………… Souls Unified
First Blossoms
On the outskirts of the tiny rural hamlet of Baile Elunae, there was a small, ramshackle cottage. Within it, lived one of the oldest women in the village.
She didn’t know quite how old she was, for she no longer had the strength or desire to count the passing years. Her back was bent, her face lined with a wrinkle for every path she had walked in her life, and her hair was as white as the rare snow that fell around the Antrim Hills. No one paid any attention to her words anymore; people said she spoke nonsense. But in spite of appearances, she was still a lucid woman. Rarely did she enter the village, and when she did the other inhabitants gave her a wide berth. Ciara Owens was regarded with both fear and respect, for everyone knew her past. They knew her white hair had little to do with age. Rather, it was a symbol of the terrible sacrifice she had been forced to make, many, many years ago.
Ciara had once been a priestess of Eluna, the goddess who ruled this part of Northern Ireland, and her home showed her history. The ingredients for perfumed incenses and oils were scattered around the tiny living space and kitchen. Herbs hung drying from the rafters, and curious artefacts covered every surface. The woman still made items for the Shrine higher up the mountain, protective charms and tools, and this was how she now earned her living.
She was in the middle of one of these craftings, early in the afternoon of one spring day in 1941, when she was roused by the sound of a voice in the woods outside.
“Rian!” a child cried, panic evident in his voice. “Rian, where are you going?”
Ciara looked out the window to see two young boys, no older than eight years old. One was running along the slope, puffing and calling out, struggling to keep up with his friend. The other didn’t seem to realise he was being followed. He continued along the barely visible dirt path, not pausing, his eyes glazed over like he was possessed.
Possessed…
Ciara immediately knew what was happening. Rising from her rickety table, she reached for the old crystal pendulum hanging by the door and hobbled outside. The boys were close to the cottage now, barely fifteen feet away. Spinning the pendulum until it swung in a protective circle, she clapped her hands together, once. “Saoire!”
Instantly the boy collapsed, freed of whatever spirit had possessed him. “Rian!” The other boy was close enough to catch him before he hit the ground. As he knelt, cradling his friend, Ciara noticed how strikingly similar they were, with matching fair faces and black hair. Brothers then, a set of twins. A wave of sadness and fear washed over her. How long had it been since the last ritual had taken place? Was it nearly time for another pair of siblings to make the ultimate sacrifice to save the village’s inhabitants?
The boy finally looked up at her, eyes narrowed in wary suspicion. They were purple, like gemstones. He was a Tierney, then. Only their family had those spectacular eyes. “Ms Owens?” he asked uncertainly.
She beckoned him towards her cottage. “Come. I can help him.”
After a moment the boy stood, carefully supporting his unconscious brother. Ciara led him into her living room, clearing off a couch for him to set his burden down. He shifted a little in his sleep, murmuring faintly.
“He will wake soon,” Ciara said as she dug through her protective charms. “Tell me, what are your names, child?”
The boy looked up from his twin. “I’m Fionn Tierney,” he said after a moment. “This is my brother Rian. What happened to him?” Fionn was clearly the stronger of the two. Ciara sighed inwardly. If things continued the way they were, he might well share her fate.
“The curse of the psychic medium,” she said. “Spirits are drawn to them like moths to a flame.” They also tend to make ideal sacrifices…
“Medium?” Fionn moved closer to his brother. “You mean… a ghost speaker? Rian’s one of them?”
“Yes, and he will need your help,” Ciara carefully took a small charm engraved with a cat for protection. “He was possessed. It often happens to young and inexperienced mediums before they learn to control their ‘gift’.” It seemed more a curse to Ciara. It had been for Lilibeth. She recalled the many times she had been forced to do what Fionn just had, following her possessed sister around to make sure she came back. “This will keep the malicious at bay.”
Fionn carefully took the small oval disc, distracted suddenly as Rian began to stir. “Rian?”
The boy’s eyes flickered open. He blinked a few times in confusion. “What… happened?”
“You were possessed, child, by a spirit.” Ciara explained to him. “They probably meant you no harm, only wanting someone to hear their stories.”
“Possessed?” Rian curled towards Fionn fearfully. He looked so much more fragile than his brother, almost like a little lost puppy. Lilibeth had been the same.
“Don’t worry,” Ciara reassured him, focussing on the problem at hand. “They cannot harm you. And you have your brother to protect you.”
“Always.” Fionn agreed, slipping an arm around Rian’s shoulders. “There’s no one else, after all.” He looked up with a grimace. “No one wants to play with us. All the other kids get told to stay away by their parents.”
That didn’t surprise Ciara. When that terrible illness returned, there always seemed to be a village wide agreement to shun twins. Giving them less to be attached to in the world made it easier to perform the ritual later. In theory.
Just then there was a commotion in the village outside. The group looked out the window to see a woman being led – or rather dragged – away by three men in doctors’ uniforms. Ciara couldn’t hear what was being said at this distance, but she could guess. She had seen it before, maybe a century ago.
“What’s going on?” Rian half stood, not letting go of Fionn. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Codladh na Gealai - Sleep of the Moon,” Ciara said flatly. “A terrible disease of the mind. She will be going to the hospital.”
“The Stirline hospital?” Fionn asked in interest. “Daddy said lots of people are going there.”
“Is it a plague?” Rian looked nervous.
“Close to it. The moon is restless, they say. She yearns for company, and enchants humans to join Her.”
“Poor moon.” Rian sighed.
Fionn meanwhile was looking at her curiously. “How do you know all this?”
Ciara smiled thinly. “I was once a priestess of Eluna. I remember the teachings well. Now go, run along home. But be careful of what I told you.” And of the Sleep.
Budding
Over the next few years Ciara saw many more folk placed in the Stirline Sanatorium. Sleep of the Moon had returned, worse than it had been in many centuries. Within seven years a third of the village had fallen victim to the disease. Another ritual would need to be performed soon. And Ciara had a feeling she knew who would be chosen. She had seen Fionn and Rian a few
times over the years. They had only grown more isolated as the illness became more prolific. Reverend Dannacha and Mr Tierney seemed to be having a lot of meetings too, though Ciara wondered why the priest was involved in what were traditionally women’s rituals. But the signs all pointed to Fionn and Rian being made into Shrine Twins.
One day in May, 1948, there was a knock at Ciara’s door. On the other side stood Fionn, uncharacteristically without Rian at his side.
“Rian’s got Sleep of the Moon.” He answered her unspoken question, face drawn with worry.
Ciara sucked in a breath. “Oh.” This was bad news for the twins. If anything, being a victim of the Sleep made Rian a better choice for a sacrifice.
Fionn shakily sat down. “What does the… disease actually do? No one will tell me.”
Ciara sighed. “Primarily, it causes memory loss. Memory loss, restlessness, psychosis, eventual blindness and, if it progresses that far,” she met Fionn’s eyes. “Distortion;