The Forgotten Usque - Village of the Tuatha Dé Ñalma.

The singing in the Chieftain's Hall had all awestruck and quiet. The duo, a man and a woman from the village, sang together in harmony and their beautiful native tongue. Their voices came from their throats, singing of the ancient sagas of their once proud and widespread people. Of the great heroes, the gods who were said to interact with them, and the villains who sought to bring end to their rule. In the background, a hide-bound drum was beaten softly in time with the lyrics and a lute-like instrument was plucked by a girl no older than sixteen.

When finally their song finished, it seemed the hearts of every man and woman in the hall had been touched. It was not a prideful feeling, or a sadness that brought tears, but a reminder of what they once had and a determination to see it again. After a short silence, the spirits of those present lifted as suddenly as the cheering and applause began and the two performers bowed before moving down to the hearth-fire that spanned the centre of the room and taking a seat besides roasting meat.

Vaalen, their king, sat upon a wooden throne that was draped in furs and raised above the rest of the hall by three steps. He clapped also, his crown made of horns and antlers, with only a single gem trinket in its centre; an amber. In the throne besides him sat his daughter, a young woman in a flowing white gown and a far more impressive crown upon her own head; a pair of antlers that grew from her skull, and a metal band to keep her almost-white hair from falling in front of her face. 

"Your performance was fantastic, Aed and Genofeva," the middle-aged, yet large and bearded man said with a hefty smile. "You should be proud. Your voices are the envy of our people and even our Gods are driven to weep by your singing."

The young woman blushed, and the man seemed so honoured that he began twiddling his fingers and dropped a small pouch into the fire, which suddenly burst upwards in a momentary display of violent intent. Then, it died down back to normal, and the man yelped "ouch!" as he put his hand near the flames to get his pouch back. After overcoming the shock, the rest of the hall laughed.

Meanwhile, as the laughter died, the doors of the hall were pushed open and a sudden, cool breeze along with the faintest of falling snowflakes passed the threshold. The others turned their heads towards the door, along with Vaalen, to try and see who had interrupted their feast.

Anu partially furrowed her brows, a look of partial worry upon her face that ruined her otherwise immaculately female characteristics. "Father, I..." She began, but was cut off when her parent raised his hand.

"I know, Anu. It pains you, it scares you. I would not ask this of you if the matter was of less importance, but you have heard the words we have spoken. You know that we have no choice, Vates," Vaalen replied.

Anu winced. She despised it when her own father referred to her by her title of Vates, rather than his own and only child. Yet still, it was a title she possessed and had no choice but to accept; the Vates were the most important people in the Tuatha society, for it was they who saw the gods and their designs. They were prophets, oracles and religious leaders. But Anu had other qualities that made her more important than any other Vates, qualities that had her become possibly the most loved figure in their village. First, she was the only Vates to be born in a generation; second, she was the only female of her kind ever known and third, she was the daughter of the King.

Her words, when spoken, were literally taken as divine providence. Of truth. Even if she did not mean to be one, she was the leader of her entire culture. No other single individual could decide the fate of the men and women looking up at her, now in that hall, than she herself.

"Very well," she said in resign. "I will ask the gods."

She turned her head up to the rafters and the ceiling, where her eyes glazed over into a strict white. Within seconds, her body began to tremble and all candles, torches and flames of the central hearth died out completely; leaving the area in cold and darkness. All breath fell silent, all eyes keenly closed, for they must not look upon a Vates when envoking her power.

Anu opened her eyes, then looked down. The hall was on fire. Blood began to trickle down the steps besides her feet, and she looked left only to realize that her father was lying slumped back against his throne, with an arrow through his throat. She took in a sharp breath of fear, then turned her eyes back to the main room of the hall itself. All the warriors were standing, with half of them bloodied and wounded in such a way that they could not possibly stand and be alive; or live at all in any position. Snakes began to slither out of the ashes of the dead fires, while spiders began to drop from the rafters above them. In the darkest corner, she saw Genofeva, the woman who had been singing with her lover at the start of their evening, being caressed by a dark figure with slits for eyes. She watched as a fork-like tongue left the shadow's mouth, then ran up the side of the singer's cheek until Anu decided she could watch no longer.

Instead she stood, moving slowly across the hall towards the door with bloody footprints in her wake. The smell of burning wood and flesh met her nostrils as she approached the doors that flung open in her wake, revealing the village and the trees around it alight with the fiercest of burning intensities. Roofs began to collapse nearby and children ran screaming from pursuers on horseback holding nets and spears, though they made no audible sound.

Then she felt it, a whisper in her ear. She knew he was behind her, but did not make a single noise. She shivered, a creeping-crawling feeling spreading from her tail-bone, up along her spine and finally to the base of her neck. The words he whispered were of the ancient tongue, spoken before even her own people had taken those basic roots of language and turned them into the foundation of their entire culture. The words he whispered were terrifying; the descriptions sickening, the fates interweaving in impossible complexity and horror. She did not dare move even a single muscle, she did not dare so much as twitch the focus of her eyes to any single point than than the trunk of the tree she had chosen to focus on in front of her.

Then, a hand reached around her mouth while another went for her throat. Before she could so much as scream, the hands of the dead began to reach from the ground and drag her down into their graves, until such a point as they could tear her clothing from her form and grasp her flesh with fingers strong enough to tear her from her own skeleton. But just as the pain began to become unbearable, just as her own blood began to flow, everything stopped.

Now back in the real hall, with everyone alive and watching her in silence, she opened her eyes. The fires relit, the warmth returned. She realized that she was lying on the floor in front of her throne, having at some point collapsed, with her hair falling all around her face and shoulders. She had tears running down her cheeks, but she wiped them away before anyone could notice.

"I have received the vision of the gods," she all but whispered. "And I have seen what will become of us on the road of both paths offered."

She climbed back up to her chair, then sat back down with her eyes staring intensely at her lap. "Father... We must not hide any longer. We must fight."

No-one gasped, no-one was in shock. They all knew, in their hearts, that their Vates had the will of the gods in her mind and her heart. That no matter what was to come, they were climbing the steps of the fate that had been woven for each of them. One by one, the warriors and their families rose, before turning and exiting the hall. By this point, Anu was in tears, while Vaalen sat besides her, leaning towards his arm-rest with his cheek against his fist.

Only Anu, Vaalen and Krenor remained.

"Krenor," Vaalen finally spoke. "Find Vales. Explain to him what has happened. Then the two of you go north to the scene of this battle. If you get there in time, help fight, but if not, then do as the gods have instructed you, Crowfallen."

"What about the other one?" Krenor asked, referring to a certain man who Vaalen immediately recognized to be the subject of the question.

"What about him? He abandoned us," the King spoke, his voice sterner than usual. "He is not of the Tuatha any longer. Let him die on some road, if he wishes it."

Krenor wanted to speak, but stopped himself. His mouth curled into a frown, at which point he bowed, turned and left without further comment.

Anu's journey back to her village, then through the streets and up to the great hall was one that neared flight in speed and effortlessness. She had rushed - gliding across the ground like an elf might - ignoring all calls or cries for her attention, all waves that might distract her or keep her from immediately going to the scene she had been told of.

It was afternoon now as she entered the hall and quickly climbed to the second floor, a glowing ball of light hanging comically to a piece of string that had been tied around one of the antlers that grew from her head. Ah yes, Anu was the Antlered Queen, the woman whose roaming of the forest had inspired stories in travellers and children alike; they thought her some sort of goddess - she was much more vulnerable. Within seconds, she reached the door to her father's room and entered with wide eyes.

"What's happened to him?" She asked, looking around at the maids, healers and close friends who had gathered. Slowly, they stepped aside to let Anu see and she nearly broke into tears at the sight of him. King Vaalen was extremely sick, with a paleness to his skin in dark contrast to the blackness that spread through the veins on his face and other areas of exposed skin. Additionally, he was sweating profusely and in some sort of feverish dream, which he occasionally commented on in moans and grumbles that betrayed a great pain.

She moved over to him in silence, then leaned besides his bed and placed her hands on either side of his head. Anu had always had the gift of great wisdom, magic and prophecy but even to the most skilled shamans and healers her ways were a mystery. They looked on, not knowing what it was she did as for a moment the blackness left Vaalen's face and spread instead to her hands which began shaking in some agony of nefarious nature. She began to audibly protest her decision to do this in the form of a low groan, but within thirty seconds the blackness faded from her hands and began to grow again in the veins of her father.

"The evil has touched him, infected his body with the same darkness that spreads in the Usque and sucks the life from our forest. I can't help him," she explained, wiping away tears with her bare sleeve.

"Then we must find aid, a healer who can reverse this no matter the cost!" Spoke one adviser, as he peered out of a window with a deeply troubled look on his face. "Without King Vaalen, our dear Anu alone is not enough to hold back the flow of this corruption despite being so touched by our gods."

"He is right," Anu agreed. "I can't do it alone... Without my father, this forest will become a warped place of horror within... A year, maybe two... Enough time for us to leave, but all of you here know that were we do abandon our duties in such a way.."

All murmuring went silent when she reminded them of a thing they would not speak of, reinforcing to all of them just how serious their situation was. It was no mere illness that would decide the fate of a king, it was a sickness that could lead to the destruction of all of them were it to take from them their leader.

"But all Tuatha must remain here if we are to watch these woods!" cried another. "'tis folly! If only Vaalen's sons had not abandoned us, perhaps then this darkness might never have been able to creep into the heart of this sacred place!"

Anu's face frowned at the words, but there were more more than a few murmurs of agreement. Her brothers had disappeared one after the other and years apart, yet it had been more than two years since her younger sibling had also gone. "Please do not speak ill of my brothers, not in my presence. Whatever crimes against us they committed, I still love them as my blood," came her soft retort, which at least seemed to reach the others enough for them to stop. "I know who we can send for help, at least... Though I do not know if he will like it."