The knot in her stomach did not go away. Instead, it worsened. The feeling from her childhood, that nameless terror, built. This fear, it was different from when she had faced the dark elf. She couldn’t explain how, but she knew it was. The darkness, the silence, the smell, it reminded her of Yashul and her elven home, though that may have been due to the differences. Light and forest to dark and stone, laughter and chirping birds to silence and creaking wood, comfort and welcome to disquiet and fear, water and flowers to dust and stagnation. There seemed nothing similar. And yet, somehow, there was. By all rights, this place should make her feel like that night against the dark elf, but no. Somehow, it was like the good lady and her home.

Coolness of stone seeped into her fingers, and her eyes watched dust motes float in the beams of light as she kept climbing. The higher she went, the heavier she felt. Finally, she reached the landing. It was a spacious place without decoration. On the other side of the room stood another staircase leading to the rafters, and suspended above the floor were a pair of ropes that ran up to the bells. Up here, sunlight poured in from large windows, and some of Eibhlin’s heaviness lifted. All she could smell was the sea breeze. Her eyes wandered along the walls and up to the bells. Nothing.

She called out, “Hello? Creature, or fae, or whatever you are? Are you here?”

No reply.

What if the rumor was wrong, she thought, and she felt her hopes sink. She stood like a lost child till Mel’s voice came, “If you are not too opposed to it, Milady, I have a suggestion.”

“Why do you keep asking me permission? Go ahead.”

“I am simply trying to respect your desire for me remain silent, Milady,” said the kithara. “Anyway, I think we should wait until sunset. There is a strong feeling of magic, maybe even fae magic, in this place, so the rumors are not unfounded. Perhaps the rumored creature is nocturnal. Or one that turns to stone in direct sunlight. We should wait to be sure that this place is empty. Also, if I may, I suggest you draw your knife. One must be especially wary around night fae.”

Without a word of protest, Eibhlin dug out her bronze blade. Since using it against the dark elf, she hadn’t touched it. Somehow, it seemed a different thing now, heavier in her hand. Sitting down, she placed the kithara against the wall and put the knife in her lap. They waited.

Afternoon dragged on, hot but with a salt-scented breeze. As the light dimmed, the deep shadows returned, as did Eibhlin’s discomfort. This bell tower, it was like her town’s church, she realized. Why had she not noticed it before? This was a bell tower belonging to a monastery, after all. This silence and mix of light and shadow, it was like the first time she remembered entering the church sanctuary. She had been a small child, and as a child she had been frightened of the dark corners as they waited for the candle bearers to finish lighting the altar. It had smelled of incense and old wood, and when the sunlight finally shone through the glass windows and brought light to the air, all her terror of that holy darkness vanished, and she knew it had been fitting to be afraid. What kind of creature would want to live here? What did Mel mean by night fae? A church. Night. Stone. Gargoyles? No, gargoyles were protective. They drove away evil. But if it wasn’t gargoyles, then what might—

Eibhlin’s blood chilled. Not gargoyles, but maybe something similar. What if… what if it was a demon? Her trembling hands moved toward the knife. Memories, sharpened by the growing darkness, drifted through her thoughts. The small room. The moonless night. Looming shadows. Shira and Elkir, hugging on the floor. The chilling screech outside the door. The first, sickening crack of the door. The dark elf’s bright eyes and slithering intake of breath and unleashed laughter at the sight of cornered children. The blade like a rusty shadow. The poisoned pain. How easily her own blade had gone in. The creature’s final, terrible scream. Death.

Outside the window, the last bands of twilight burned across the horizon as the ocean swallowed the final rays of sunlight. Stars heralded the moon. Some other bell tower tolled the hour. Then silence again. A stretch of quiet like a length of twine pulled taut.

“Milady, if I ma—”

Eibhlin screamed and fumbled for the knife, fear and adrenalin deciding her actions. Forgetting to unsheathe it, she swung the knife, thwacking Mel against the crossbar.

“Ouch!” cried the instrument. “First slamming me against someone’s stone of a stomach, now striking me with a knife? What have I done to warrant such discourtesy?”

Collecting herself, Eibhlin gasped, “I… I thought you were a demon.”