The Farmer's Wife #003

She stood in the darkness, waiting, hardly daring to breathe. Nothing.

Her eyes adjusted to the dark, and she could faintly see the outlines of the room. She looked around, slowly, and then, turning her eyes back to the markings on the floor, wondering in what way she had failed, she saw it. Hovering above the floor, a deeper darkness coiled and writhed.

Feed. The thought entered into her mind unbidden, and her hand rose unbidden over the twisting shadow. Blood dripped from her palm, black in the darkness, and the shadow convulsed violently with every drop. Then, as though breaking some hidden bond, it burst forth into tendrils of darkness.

All around the room the black threads spun, probing, searching, sensing. Where they brushed against her skin, she recoiled from the dealthy chill they left behind. Coiling into thicker and thicker strands, the icy tendrils wove together all around her until all she could see was a shifting curtain of nothingness.

With a shock that almost threw her to the floor, a presence came.

She felt it in the air around her, in her flesh, in her bones, in her heart. She felt it even in her mind, probing for weakness, searching for a way in. She steeled herself. It would not find one.

Harder and stronger the presence pressed against her soul, stabbing into her very being, ripping and tearing, trying to find a way in. She closed her eyes and screamed as images of her dying husband forced their way into her mind, as the screams of her taken son echoed in her ears, as the terror of a thousand agonising deaths crept into her heart.

No. For Eugen, she would stand. She held her son in the centre of her mind, cradled the thought as she had cradled him as an infant, and like darkness before a beacon, the assault was driven back. Out and out she forced the darkness, slowly reclaiming her mind. Her scream dwindled, her shaking limbs stilled, and then it was gone. She felt the presence all around her, even within her body, but no longer did it claw at her soul.

From the depths of the shadow around her, the presence spoke. Its voice echoed not in her ears, but in her mind.

Silly, mortal child. What foolishness drove you to summon one so much your greater? Do you not know what powers lie in the darkness?

"I know you well, child of Ygn. I-..."

The darkness closed in on her before should could even move, and she felt it pressing tightly around her, sucking the warmth from her body, forcing air from her lungs breath by breath. You dare to invoke the name of the Dark Mother? You are nothing, girl, a torn leaf presuming to direct the wind where it should be taken.

"I-... I offer-... a trade."

The darkness drew back somewhat; it still bound her tightly, but she drew in a deep, shuddering breath. What would you presume to ask of me?

"My... my son. His safe... return."

Hnnnnnnnnh. It was not a laugh, but she felt the shadow's derision and amusement. Pathetic sentiment. You are all of you trees in the wind, powerless to resist.

"Whatever you ask, I will give you."

What have you to offer me?

"My... my life, for his."

Hnnh. If I desired your pitiful life, I would take it.

"You cannot harm me." The book had promised as much; of this she was sure.

Can I not? A force to powerful to resist wrenched her still-bleeding hand up in front of her eyes, and tendrils of darkness extended into it, through it, into the flesh beneath. Searing cold pierced her flesh, and she screamed with the agony of it. Through tear-filled eyes she saw the flesh around the wound grow shrivelled and grey, and the blood within turn to black ichor that seeped slowly from the gash.

"Please! Please...!" she screamed. The presence gave what seemed to be a slow sigh of satisfaction; the tendrils withdrew and she could move her hand again. She clutched it to her chest; searing pain still radiated from the withered flesh. She gasped for breath against the pain.

Now that we are clear, child, what do you really have to offer me?

"I... Whatever you ask, anything you ask..."

Anything? She could hear the dark intent in the voice, but... Eugen. She had to.

"Anything."

Hnnnnnh. Then let us... negotiate.