The Faceless Woman by Emma Hamm (i love reading .txt) 📕

Aisling snatched her hand away and stepped back. “We don’t have time for this.”

“We will soon.”

“Just find the water and then find me.”

“I’ll say the same to you, witch.”

He cast a lingering glance over his shoulder, then disappeared down the tunnel. He walked carefully, quietly, and so slowly it made her roll her eyes.

Aisling turned the other way and traced their steps back to a previous fork. She picked a tunnel that felt like it might be the right way. It disappeared down into darkness, mist swirling over the stones sluggishly. Wall sconces slowly flickered to life as she passed, casting the tunnel in a sickly red glow. Her shadow danced over the walls, then blinked out of existence as if she’d never had one.

She ran a hand over her arms. This was her choice. She wanted to wander about on her own without his ridiculous precautions. Her own fault she was alone in the most dangerous place in the known world.

She put her back to the wall as the tunnel split again. Leaning around the edge, she peered both ways before choosing to stick to the left. If Bran was right and this place really was a labyrinth, then she knew how to get through it.

Somehow, she doubted he was right. The area she had stepped into was still just a tunnel system. The walls were chewed away, perhaps by some large beast that had created these in an attempt to make its way through the mountainside.

She shivered again. What kind of beast could create tunnel systems like this?

A quiet echo of sound skittered down the tunnel. It sounded like a moan, of a creature or person in agonizing pain.

“Wonderful,” she muttered. “Just what I need to make this even more interesting.”

Aisling was careful the farther down the tunnel she went. The moaning grew louder and louder until she pressed a hand to her ear. It made her eyes cross. She blinked them quickly, rubbed at one with a hand, then stared wide-eyed at the wall in front of her that seemed to waver for a moment.

She touched her finger to the slick wall beside her and flicked a droplet of water at the magicked wall. “By earth and water, dispel all glamour and see it true.”

The spell held.

Her anger spiked, shattering the strange sound spell that held her in its grasp. “Dispel all glamour,” she repeated, “and see it true.”

The wall shook, then the spell dissolved. Wind swept through immediately. It tangled around her legs, shook the fabric of her borrowed skirts, and threaded through her hair until it flooded back down the tunnel.

A gaping hole in the side of the tunnel revealed a picturesque view of starlight reflected on a calm sea. The darkness was beautiful, intimidating, and so painfully dangerous that it made her eyes sting.

The water far away stirred. A great beast rose from beneath the waves, its scaled side glistening in the moonlight as one large arch lifted out of the water and then slowly disappeared again.

They had traveled across those waters without a care in the world. She hadn’t even considered looking down at the waves, she’d been so caught up in staring at her own Unseelie.

What kind of beasts had stared back at them?

Aisling shivered again, brushed her hands over her arms, and turned. She took a right instead of a left, meandering through the labyrinth.

It felt as though she had been traveling for hours. Her feet started to ache, her back threatened to seize, and her heart thumped hard in her chest. The tunnels never seemed to end.

Every single one was exactly the same as the next. Water dripped down the walls. Ragged pieces stuck out from the wall of everything she saw. It always ended with two choices, and she always took the right.

If she had to turn around, Aisling was careful to retrace her steps. They hadn’t brought anything with them to mark their passage. She took to tracing runes in the algae on the walls. No one would notice the scratched marks as anything other than a strange way for algae to grow. But she knew what her own marks meant.

Just when she thought she might lose her mind, her foot knocked against something on the floor. That was different.

She cocked her head to the side and stared down at the open book. Its pages fluttered, colorful paintings flipping so quickly she couldn’t quite make out what they were. Aisling stooped, picked it up, and turned it over to see the gilded cover.

“A History of the Unseelie Court,” she whispered. “Interesting.”

Tucking the book under her arm, Aisling continued in the same direction. A few more books appeared in the distance, each more intriguing than the last.

Soon, she was holding the complete series of the Unseelie Court—a surprisingly large, multi-volume series that consisted of fourteen gold-leafed books. When her arms could hold no more, she put them in a stack against the wall. Regret chilled her. It seemed a shame to leave them where the elements would eventually destroy them.

Books were sacred. They took a long time to bind, even longer to write, and each handwritten word was a marvel. She found it strange that the Unseelie faeries tossed them on the floor with little care for them.

Aisling had seen more books in her life than most humans. But then again, she wasn’t after all.

Light flickered to life at the end of the tunnel. It moved in a circle before zipping back into the air.

She froze.

It appeared again, farther away this time and without even the slightest bit of sound. Was it someone carrying a light? Or was it some kind of Unseelie creature luring her deeper into the depths?

“You are not afraid,” she told herself.

Her palms grew slick with sweat, but she forced herself to move. She had to keep going, had to find the waters, had to break the binding curse. All of this and more.

More books appeared in the hallway, scattered like