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cradled the larger one, every other ghastly visage with tea lights illuminating the eyes.
    Aludra stopped in front of the shrine, surrounded by large black candles that never seemed to go out. She stooped, cupped her hand, and drank from the fountain, licking the red from her lips as she stood, wiping the rest on the back of her sleeve. She faced the door and stepped toward it, her gait hesitant, slow. This was it. This was what she’d been trained to do her whole life. At the entrance, she tented her fingers over the large door and stopped, her other hand on the lever that would unlock the gate outside, and sighed. She closed her eyes and shuddered, then stood straight, fixed her gaze, and pulled the lever.
    Outside, she blinked in the moonlight and sniffed the air. Open. Different from what she’d expected. She looked over her shoulder as the door swung shut behind her. A tear streaked her pale cheek, eyes glittering. She smiled into the night. With a soft click the steel bars rose, tipped with spikes on the bottom and top. She stooped under the bottom spikes, a prance in her step as her feet crunched over dried leaves.
    Once outside the gates, she ran forward, eager to reach the trees, and then she stopped and faced the manor. The front of the building jutted from the side of the Wicklow Mountains in Ireland, unnoticeable to the average passerby. Not that there would be anyone walking around out here. When the High Priest first took refuge in this part of the mountain range, he set magical wards with the Dark Lord’s help to confuse travelers and make them go in any direction other than toward the manor. Secluded by a forgotten waterfall, the Order managed to stay hidden from the world.
    The moon shone just over the mountain’s peak, still rising.  Stars sparkled in the dark blue blanket above her.  She heard a soft rhythmic roaring and knew it was the ocean. The scent of salt water drifted to her in the surrounding mist.
    “Wow,” she said. “Stars.” The pictures she’d seen in all the books she’d read hadn’t done them justice. For her first time outside, she couldn’t have asked for better. She looked at the dark manor again, grinned, and turned to the trees crowding her home.
    Something scuttled in the bushes to her right, rattling the branches. She flinched, on her guard. A cricket chirped to her left. She stopped. An owl hooted above her. She looked up, eyes wide, mouth gaping. As the night lived around her, as the animals scurried and made their animal noises, as the wind blew and the stars turned, Aludra laughed hysterically, a dark, twisted laugh that would make children think of the monsters hiding under their beds.
    The doorway she sought waited behind another forgotten waterfall. She traipsed onward. Through a patch of flat ground, she stepped into something springy, a bog. The High Priestess had warned her that these would be on her path to the doorway. Halfway across the green trap, her left leg sunk down to the knee, soaking her pants with icy water. She laughed as she pulled herself out and the bog made a sucking sound, not ready for her to leave.
    It didn’t take her long to reach the waterfall. Iridescent light pulsed from behind the curtain of flowing blue. As she inched along the wet rock ledge, she hugged the cliff, her cheek scraping granite. Far below, the ocean—which had sounded so soothing before—crashed against the jagged rocks. Her heart pulsed in her throat.
    Her foot slipped. As she scrabbled for purchase on the cliff side, she thought in that moment that she would die before fulfilling her purpose. Her knee banged the ledge and her fingers bled as she regained her balance. Panting, wide eyed, she pulled herself up and examined her index finger where the nail used to be. A runnel of blood ran down her arm. She stuck her finger in her mouth, savoring the taste and the sting.
    Moments later she was behind the waterfall.
    The doorway to Rory was even more beautiful than she’d