Chapter 19

Air. A mad mix of gases thrown together, allowing us life. The invisible combination just right, just perfect for us to survive. To thrive.

Yet…

The moment the root tore through the ceiling, the air inside the Black Swann changed. It thickened – visibly, impossibly – gathering in the space above Edmund like a storm cloud forming a single, purposeful shape.

Malcolm roared something, though Edmund couldn’t parse the words, before swinging the poker again. There was an audible screech, coming from above, and the root jerked back. Except, this one didn’t retreat far. It lingered just above the broken rafters, wavering, tasting the air.

Something in Edmund surged up his throat.

“It’s… calling me.”

“Fight it, lad. Keep talking to me. Look in my eyes. Don’t let it pull at your thoughts.”

Careful not to break the circle, Malcom gripped Edmund’s shoulders harder, bringing his face closer, but Edmund couldn’t meet his gaze.

Something behind the landlord caught his eye. A movement in the rafters. Another root unfurled from the gap, followed by a second, and a third. They swayed in a slow, deliberate rhythm, the fingers of a hand stretching before closing around something.

Around him.

Will flung another log onto the fire. Flames leapt higher still, casting desperate shadows across the walls. The roots writhed, recoiling at the flare. But they didn’t retreat. They were learning.

Edmund gasped as his chest answered the roots, locked in a terrible synchronicity that made his muscles jolt uncontrollably.

“No,” he whispered. “No, no… stop…”

One root dipped lower, tentatively brushing the top of the ash circle. The ash hissed.

A streak of pain tore through Edmund and he jerked as if struck. The landlord pinned him to the chair.

“Stay with me!”

Edmund shook violently.

“It’s… inside the pain? It’s pushing through.”

The root pressed harder against the ash. Smoke curled upward. A rush of euphoria broke through Edmund. He almost smiled.

Malcolm slapped him, hard. Edmund gasped, his vision snapping back into focus. More roots punched through the ceiling. They snaked downwards, as thick as limbs, tracing slow circles around the hole they’d made. Testing. Probing.

The pub shook.

Will stumbled back from the hearth.

“It’s collapsing the roof! We need to move him!”

“No,” Malcolm hissed. “If he leaves the circle, it’ll take him in a second.”

“So, it’ll take the whole building first?”

Malcolm didn’t answer. He had none to give.

Another beam groaned overhead. A slate tile shattered on the ground outside. Edmund moaned as the influence returned, this time carrying something both alien and horribly familiar. He could feel something above him. No longer roots and forest. A presence.

It was calling.

Edmund… the voice whispered from deep within him.

His head fell forward, his hands landing just inside the circle.

“It’s here.”

The landlord tightened his grip further, not caring if it hurt. Hoping it did!

“Look at me!”

But Edmund’s eyelids sank. The warmth smothered his panic, replacing it with a blissful quiet. A calm deeper than anything he’d ever felt. The roots bent lower, as if bowing towards him.

Malcolm shook him violently.

“Don’t listen to it!”

But Edmund barely heard him. He heard something else. A soft, wet sound, like footsteps on moss. It was descending. The rafters creaked. Dust drifted down. Something too heavy to be a root lowered itself towards the hole in the ceiling.

The landlord looked up and his face drained of colour.

“Oh God.”

Edmund tried to lift his head. Tried to see.

A shape emerged.

Neither man nor child nor tree, but something between.

It was tall and thin, with limbs that were stretched too long. The face was hidden by strands of hanging roots. Its silhouette rippled like bark stretched tightly over bone. It hung upside down through the ruin of the ceiling, its head tilting as if studying him.

A low croak escaped it.

“Eddddddmund…”

He felt the heat in his chest explode and he arched backward with a strangled cry. Malcolm threw himself between Edmund and the creature, brandishing the poker like a spear.

“You’re not having him!”

The creature hissed, not with anger, but with amusement. The roots flanking it shook, as if laughing. Edmund’s vision blurred with tears. His body felt like fire and ice and breath and voice and dirt all at once.

“Stop,” he gasped. “Please… Please…”

The creature extended one long arm. It was jointed at wrong angles, and was reaching.

The landlord swung. Metal struck root. A scream, like wind tearing through ruins, ripped through the pub. The creature pulled back slightly.

Slightly.

Enough to let Malcolm drag Edmund back onto the chair.

The creature snarled. The pub shook again. The circle wavered, as a ripple passed over it. Ash scattered and the warmth inside Edmund sang with triumph.

The creature lowered itself further.

Closer.

Closer.

A whisper brushed Edmund’s cheek.

So close…

Edmund screamed.

The fire erupted behind them, sudden and violent, a tower of flame roaring high enough to lick the rafters. The creature reeled back, its limbs flailing. Roots recoiled in agony and Edmund shrieked. Malcolm grabbed Edmund’s head in both hands.

“Don’t let it in! Don’t you dare let it in!”

The creature heaved itself back through the roof, vanishing into the writhing canopy above. Roots snapped upward after it. Silence crashed down.

Edmund collapsed, shaking, half-sobbing, half-gasping. Malcolm knelt beside him, his chest heaving.

“We’re not safe. It’s not over yet.”

Will stared up at the gaping hole in the ceiling.

“What the hell was that?”

Malcolm shook his head. It was something he’d never encountered. Edmund whispered, his voice thin and broken:

“It wasn’t the forest.”

They both turned to him. His eyes were wide, unfocused.

“It was what the forest sent.”

And as the damaged ash circle flickered under the shifting firelight, Edmund felt the presence inside him stir again. Weakened, but alive.

Waiting for the next moment he let his guard slip.

Soon.