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What the Briar Remembers

fantasy◐ Mature
5 contributors · 4 paragraphs deep

Mirren had heard enough ghost-talk to be careful. "Why should I trust you?" she asked. The man wheezed out a laugh. "Because I was the warden before you, girl. I buried that bell myself. And I felt you walk over my grave every single day." Her blood went cold. She knew his name from the chapel records: Aldous.

"Tell me how to stop it," Mirren said. Aldous gripped her hand. "The bell calls the dead. To silence it, you must give it a name — the name of the man who started the war. It's carved on a stone under the hawthorn root, right where you found me. Dig there. But say it wrong and the whole army marches."

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Mirren dug under the hawthorn root and found a flat stone with a name worn nearly smooth: GHERICK. She climbed to the bell, pressed her hand to the cold metal, and spoke it. The bell rang once on its own — a deep, final note — and across the forest the dead lay back down into their graves like tired children. The Briar was quiet again.

TE
Tomas Eklund
11 votes · future 1 of 2