Page 62 of Crownless Heirs

Maelan looked ready to murder them both.

Just Then, movement inside the bog caught Kyrons eye. His expression shifted instantly. Without a word, he stepped forward, clamping a hand over Sorcha’s mouth. Sorcha jerked in protest, but Kyron ignored her, tilting her head toward the disturbance. Sorcha followed his gaze, eyes narrowing. Then, the bog croaked.

A massive toad, its grotesque form barely visible in the shifting shadows, unhinged its gaping maw. In an instant, its thick, muscular tongue lashed out, ensnaring a small creature, a fox, dragging it into the cavernous pit of its mouth. The toad’s jaws slammed shut, swallowing its prey whole. It leapt into the air with surprising speed, its bloated body momentarily suspended before it crashed back down into the bog with a sickening squelch, sending ripples of filth outward.

It watched them. Its warty, mottled skin sagged over its grotesque frame, slick with a foul, mucus like secretion that oozed from its pores and dripped into the stagnant water below. The air reeked of a carcass left to bake in the sun, thick with a rot and decay that made the humid bog even more suffocating. Sorcha’s eyes narrowed as she watched the toad. Warts wept fluid across its bloated, pulsing back. Sickly, crust-rimmed yellow slits for eyes caught the dim light and held it. It opened its mouth, letting loose a deafening, hollow croak that rattled the swamp grass. Strands of flesh from the fox still clung to rows of needle thin teeth. Maelan didn’t even have time to draw his weapon before the creature’s tongue struck like a whip. It bound his leg, dragging him screaming through the sludge. His fingers lost their grip on his rapier as he was tossed like a rag doll, splashing down right into the spray of the toad’s foul breath.

Sorcha and Kyron came racing after him, their boots squelching through the muck. Scrambling to his feet, both beside him in an instant, swords drawn. Sorcha snapped her wrist, unleashing a whip of sunlight across the toad’s face.

The toad inhaled a deep, rattling breath, its throat inflating like bellows before releasing a sudden, vacuum like pull. The force yanked them forward. Teeth tore at their arms and legs as they slid down its tongue. The slick, muscular surface coiling around them. Its throat clenched, forcing them deeper, swallowing them whole.

They fell for what felt like an eternity, until they crashed into a choking, gelatinous ooze. The slime clung to them, a living thing, tendrils wrapping around their limbs, tightening, pulling them deeper.

Each time one of them broke free, another limb was snared, dragging them back down.

Sorcha heard whimpering. Her eyes snapped up to follow the sound. In the swirling mist above, a shadow twisted and flickered, tangled in the suffocating sludge. Strands of mist dangled from the surface of the stomach, pulsing with eerie light.

And in that instant, she knew. Noctis was there. Sorcha summoned heat to her hands, burning the ooze away long enough to push herself upright. Maelan and Kyron struggled to free their hands or limbs from the imprisonment.

She reached for her sword and snapped her whip, slicing through the thick, clinging slime to free Kyron, Maelan, and Noctis.

The walls of the stomach groaned around them, the sound low and guttural. The chamber shuddered, the tremors forcing a thick, bubbling bile to rise. Skeletal remains, Rotting flesh and mangled parts of creatures, half digested and unrecognizable surfaced from the churning filth. The stench alone was a fate worse than death.

A violent retching sound rumbled from above, vibrating the stomach walls.

The bile surged, filling the chamber, swallowing them whole. They tumbled, twisted, and fought to stay above the sloshing wave until Sorcha slammed hard into something solid.

They were covered in bile, surrounded by remains, the sudden brightness of the space blinding for a moment.

Sorcha wiped the slime from her face with the back of her hand, trying to clear it away as she planted her feet.

Kyron stood as well, slipping on the ooze, while Maelan staggered over some of the remains, standing by Sorcha and Noctis, trying his hardest to shake the disgust off. The smell of the toad mixing with the scents in the cabin washing over them, twisting her with nausea.

They stood in a cabin that had seen better days, moss creeping up the walls, trees twisting through the windows. The air was damp, earthy and thick.

Inside, a large hearth flickered, casting long, shifting shadows. Beyond it, a kitchen sat cluttered with shelves packed to the brim with bottles, dried herbs, and flowers. A pot of stew, thick and bubbling, simmered over the flames, its scent a strange mix of spice and decay.

In the center of the house, a winding staircase curled upward, leading to a second level where more books and odd trinkets lay scattered across the floor.

Maelan took a slow step forward, his eyes scanning the room. “What just happened?” he muttered, still trying to process it.

Kyron shook his head, wiping more bile from his arms. “A nightmare-fueled fever dream is what I’d call that.”

Sorcha turned, her gaze settling on the hearth as Noctis moved beside her, ears twitching, her body low, a quiet growl rumbling from her throat.

A voice drifted down from the darkness at the top of the staircase. It was smooth but tinged heavy with an unsettling amusement.

“You know, it’s terribly rude to snoop around someone’s home.”

The metallic skrrrrt of fingernails dragging slowly along the iron handrail echoed through the room before she even came into view. A woman descended the steps, her boots clicking softly. Her smile was pleasant, eerily so, stretching just a bit too wide across her face.

“I see you’ve met my Púca,” she murmured, like she casting a spell. “Lovely little shapeshifters, aren’t they? You’ve wandered into a very dangerous place, little birds. It’s fortunate I found you first.”

Her face was breathtakingly beautiful for a heartbeat. Then, the illusion warped, her features violently fractured. For a sickening split second, her eyes turned into bottomless pits of solid black. Her lips split back to her ears in a jagged, violent grin, revealing rows of yellowed, broken teeth worn down to the bone. Her beauty was nothing but a cruel illusion, a cheap trick of the firelight. Just as quickly as it came, it vanished. The skin knit back together. Her hair flowed like liquid ink once more, and her deep brown eyes sparkled with false warmth.

Kyron and Maelan’s eyes widened with terror, their faces drawn tight. They must have seen it too. Sorcha now knew, this had to be the Bog Witch. She watched as the woman approached, her features shifting, flickering in and out of focus for a moment, like a reflection in disturbed water.

“Come, it’s cozy by the fire,” she cooed, gesturing to a hearth that smelled faintly of burning hair. “I’ve got food in the pot, and you look like you could use some warmth.”