The Iron Cave

After maybe an hour of crying, maybe more, Clarissa falls asleep on my shoulder. "Siraye," I call out just loud enough for the little faun to hear but not so loud as to wake the sleeping young woman. Siraye makes her way over toward me.

"Yes, Your Ma- I mean Nives?"

"Can you please give her a room?"

"Of course." Siraye smiles at me with sad eyes. I gently let go of Clarissa and stumble up from the ground I was still sitting. Siraye hands me back my daughter before gently picking up the small, sleeping young woman crying her heart out not even five minutes before. Siraye steadies her in her arms and walks out of the room.

I sniff my nose and rub away the tears that hadn't found their way fully down my face. I suck in a shaking breath and slump my shoulders and look at my little treasure. Elin is awake and stares right into my eyes with her big, enchanting green eyes. I smile down at her and press a longing kiss on top of her little head. Elin smiles brightly at me and reaches for my hair with her little hands. I chuckle and press another kiss on her head. After that, I make my way back to my chair.

"I hate to interrupt-"

"It was a manticore," I explain before Fealar can finish his sentence. I briefly look away from my daughter who has got a hold of my hair. Fealar's eyes are wide open. He opens his mouth to say something, but when nothing comes out he closes it again. He shakes his head in disbelief and sits down in a chair himself.

"Are... Are you sure, Your Majesty? A manticore is a myth. No one has ever seen one. As I said, they're a myth."

"I have never been so sure of something before in my life, Fealar. It was a manticore. An adapted manticore, to be precise."

"Clarify."

"This thing, this manticore... It was adapted with... I guess iron? It had entire limbs made out of metal. It was made, Fealar. There is someone out there who made that thing. Who knows what else they made."

Fealar rubs his face and stays silent. I lower my gaze to Elin and carefully free my hair from her death grip. I quickly throw my hair over my shoulder, out of Elin's reach, and stroke her cheek. Elin starts to get a little fussy in my arms. "Are you mad that Mommy won't let you rip the hair out of her skull, or are you hungry?" Elin starts moving more forcefully and lets out a cry. A hungry cry. "Thought so," I smile and attach her to my breast. I hum the lullaby that my Mom always sang for my little brother and me, before the grief and the thought of him forever lost in the mountain passes caused her own death.

As I finish humming the lullaby, Fealar seems to awaken from his trance. "A manticore," he mumbles, rubbing his eyes. "A fucking manticore. I can't believe it."

"A manticore?" the soft voice belonging to Siraye sounds through the room. I look up from Elin peacefully drinking. "In the mountains?" I nod at my Lady-In-Waiting. She lets out a long breath before walking over to the cabinet with drinks. She pours herself a glass of water and sits down in the chair beside me. "What more do you know about this manticore? Are you sure it was a manticore?" Her brown eyes stare right into mine. The light of the flickering torches gets reflected in her almost black curls.

"Yes, I am. But it was adapted," I explain. I look back at my daughter. "Full limbs were entirely made out of metal. So, it was part beast, part machine. A real killing machine."

I close my eyes, trying to forget the screams of pain still ringing in my head on repeat. But like the screams, its roar also remained in my mind. Taunting me. I can smell the heavy iron scent of blood, and the rotting breath of that thing. I tense up from the images of the corpses scattered over the ground. Limbs separated from the rest of the body. Blood. Blood. Blood. So, much blood.

I shake my head and take a deep breath. The images, sounds, and smells return to the back of my mind.

"A machine you say?" Siraye asks, her dark eyes still staring at me. I nod.

"Do you know something, Siraye?" Fealar asks over a glass of wine he poured himself.

"Well," she starts, scratching her head. "I have heard about this legend. It's about a creature called Hanera. It's supposed to mean The Dark One in some old, forgotten language no one speaks anymore. Even the name of the language is forgotten, but that's beside the point," Siraye rambles while curling a string of her hair around her finger.

"Tell us more," Fealar orders. He takes a few big gulps from his wine. Finishing it. Siraye swallows visibly. Clearly intimidated by the pink-skin Fae-male. She nods quickly and clears her throat.

"Uh, well, the legend goes that this Hanera had the ability to create things. Anything he can think of. He can look into someone's mind and create their worst nightmares. His power makes him create things. Deadly things. He also has the power to control darkness. Controlling darkness is one of his biggest strengths since darkness is one of the biggest fears out there. The legend says that he is immortal. He can't die. So, the legend goes that he has been captured in a special sarcophagus and thrown in a dark hole, forever closed off." Siraye shrugs and takes a small sip of her water. "That's all I know. I don't know where the dark hole they put him in is located. And I don't know if it's true. As I said, it's a legend."

"The Iron Cave," I mumble.