A prickling sensation raced over Coira's skin as though a lightning strike had just dispersed. More curious than alarmed, she ran a soothing hand down Braden’s arm. "Be at ease. There is nothing to fear in this place."
She closed her eyes and embraced the power lingering on the air like mist. Pulling away from Braden’s grasp, she walked clockwise along the edge of the circle. A low hum traveled through the bottoms of her feet to the top of her head. The vibration intensifying as she neared one particular stone. The Ogham designs carved into the pillar writhed black, against the reddish light the setting sun painted upon the slab’s surface.
The air grew still, heavy, and weighted with moisture. Her skin felt damp, and she tasted it, like dew, her tongue. The sound of the wind, the movement of the trees, her own breathing, ceased. Her ears felt full as though she had climbed a tall peak and needed to swallow to clear them.
An area, head high, on the dimpled block wavered as though something live wrestled within it. A bulge appeared pulsing as though the stone were giving birth. A shape thrust forward. Coira staggered back in surprise and fear, a startled cry torn from her.
Shoulders bowed, the figure stretched its neck back as though relieving the cramped pain of release. The head turned. A strange oval structure covering the top third of the face, a round disk covered the mouth with a black piece as thick as an eel attached to it. The form retained the gray color of the limestone in which it was imbedded, then the stone slid away like liquid leaving the flesh exposed. The features were feminine, her head, neck, and shoulders encased in something gray-black as a seal’s pelt. As though wiggling against the suction of heavy mud, a single arm and hand flopped free reaching toward her.
The pale blue eyes that gazed at her from behind the strange mask reflected her same horror and fear. The wide cheek bones, the dark slash of her brows, the narrow bridge of her nose, mirrored hers in exact detail, and for a moment Coira thought she was gazing at her own image.
With a twisting movement, the woman tried to break free of the stone, her chest heaving in and out as though she could not breathe. Coira’s eyes stung with tears of pity. She could not stand aside and watch her die. She had to pull her free. Coira reached up to grasp the hand extended toward her.
"Nay," Braden bellowed.
A heated current passed through Coira’s fingers and she felt a tug, as though a rope, invisible but strong, looped around her wrist and pulled. Fear lanced through her, bone deep and she braced her feet and leaned back, fighting against the force that sucked her forward against her will. As she looked up, the hand above her looked like a black claw reaching out to grab her.
