Chapter 2: Porridge and a Perilous Letter
The cottage kitchen hummed with a golden, forgiving light. Sun streamed through the window, glinting off copper pots and illuminating dust motes dancing over the scarred wooden table. The air was thick with the sizzle of bacon on the cast-iron griddle, the fatty, salty smell mingling with the yeasty warmth of freshly baked soda bread cooling on a wire rack. Aliandra leaned against the stone sink, watching Samantha move with a sure, practiced grace. The metallic tang of peat smoke from the morning fire drifted in through the open window, barely masking the deeper, older scent of the sea.
She felt heavy-limbed, her bones replaced with lead. The stolen energy from the night before had burned off, leaving a gritty fatigue behind her eyes. Jenny, beside her, was softly pressing a mug of tea into her hands. Her fingers were warm.
“Eat, you two,” Samantha said without turning, flipping bacon with a long fork. "You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards. A particularly thorny one.”
Will looked up from his newspaper, his ginger eyebrows raised over his reading glasses. “More of an archaeological dig, if memory serves.” He winked at Aliandra, his kindness a gentle counterpoint to the memory of leering faces in the dark.
Aliandra managed a weak smile. She slid into a chair at the table, the wood smooth and familiar under her palms. The normalcy was a balm, but it felt fragile, like a thin sheet of ice over dark water. Jenny sat next to her, their knees touching under the table, a point of constant, silent contact.
A plate piled high appeared before her: two fried eggs with yolks like suns, three rashers of crisp bacon, a fat sausage, a heap of buttery mushrooms, and a slice of the dark soda bread. It was a monument to care. Aliandra’s stomach turned.
She was reaching for the marmalade jar when Samantha placed a letter beside her plate. It was a stark, white rectangle against the worn wood.
“Came by the early post,” Samantha said, her voice casual, but her eyes lingered on Aliandra’s face. “Looks like it’s had an adventure of its own.”
The envelope was smudged with what looked like sea salt, its corners softened and frayed. The stamp was a generic Queen’s head, but the postmark was clear and chilling: HOLLOW SKERRY. The handwriting was a familiar, bubbly scrawl. Amelia. A cold knot tightened in Aliandra’s gut. The Serpent inside her shifted, a slow, uneasy coil.
“Amelia,” Jenny said, her voice bright with forced cheer. "What’s she up to? Still on that… research trip?”
Aliandra tore the envelope open. A single sheet of lined notepaper, covered in Amelia’s enthusiastic, sprawling script. She began to read aloud, her voice flat at first.
“Ali, you glorious weirdo! Hope you’re not getting too domesticated in that lovely cottage. Things here are fascinating. Totally cracked the code on those symbols we found in your family vaults—you know, the ones linked to the ‘House Beneath’ chatter? It’s not just academic ghost stories, it’s a real, active recruitment system. I’ve traced a major nexus of activity to this little cluster of islands centred on Hollow Skerry. Remote doesn’t cover it. No phone signal, obviously. This letter might take ages.”
Aliandra’s throat tightened. She swallowed, the porridge she’d eaten earlier congealing into a hard, cold mass.
“The locals are… interesting. Tight-lipped, but you get the sense they know things. I’ve made contact with a fisherman who says he can take me out to the main island tomorrow—place called Carraig Dorcha. Sounds ominous, right? But the ruins there are supposed to be pre-Christian, and the symbols are everywhere. He says the ‘devotees’ (his word, creepy) keep to themselves, but they sometimes hire his boat for supplies. I’m going to see if I can get a look. Don’t worry, I’ll be careful! It’s just fieldwork. Much more fun than writing my dissertation on potsherds. Wish you were here, we could properly investigate together. Anyway, I’ll post this before I head out. If all goes well, I’ll have photos to make your crow-brain explode! Love, Amelia. P.S. Tell Jenny I said hi!”
The silence that followed was profound. The bacon continued to sizzle. A seagull cried outside. Aliandra lowered the letter, the paper trembling slightly in her hand. She looked at Jenny, and saw her own dread reflected in Jenny’s wide, glassy eyes.
“Carraig Dorcha,” Aliandra whispered. “The Dark Rock.”
“She’s walking right into it,” Jenny breathed, all colour draining from her face. “She thinks it’s an academic game.”
Will had put his paper down. “The House Beneath? That’s the lot the police were asking about after those young folks went missing up the coast last year, isn’t it?”
Samantha turned off the gas, the sudden quiet deafening. “Amelia’s a clever girl, but she’s reckless. Headstrong.”
Aliandra felt the Crow Spirit awaken fully, not with hunger this time, but with a sharp, predatory alertness. It knew the name. It knew the place. A memory not her own flickered—stone slick with spray, a door opening into wet darkness, a chorus of voices chanting something that was not a language. The Serpent tightened around her spine, a vice of fear.
“She’s not just reckless,” Aliandra said, her voice hollow. “She’s naive. They’re not ‘devotees’ having a weird book club. They’re a fucking cult. They don’t just ‘keep to themselves.’ They take things. People. Energy.” Her eyes met Jenny’s. “Like I did. But they don’t stop. They drain until there’s nothing but a shell left.”
The full English breakfast steamed, forgotten. The golden light in the kitchen now felt like a mockery.
“We have to go after her,” Jenny said suddenly, her small hands clenching into fists on the table. The statement hung there, simple and immense.
“How?” Will asked, practical. “That’s a full day’s travel, at least. Ferries, then a local boat. If this fisherman is already wrapped up in it…”
“We don’t take a ferry,” Aliandra said, the plan forming in her mind with a cold, terrifying clarity. The Crow whispered possibilities. Paths not on maps. “We go the other way. The way the Crow knows.”
Samantha looked from Aliandra to her daughter, her face a mask of maternal fear. “Aliandra, love, you can’t just—”
“We have to,” Aliandra interrupted, standing up. The chair scraped loudly against the stone floor. “I brought this. My… connection. My mess. She’s there because of symbols I showed her. I have to pull her out.”
Will sighed and stood, folding his newspaper under his arm. "No," he said flatly.
Aliandra looked set to argue, but Will held up a cautioning hand. "I said no. I know you're worried, but Amelia is already there. You may have shown her those symbols, but she chose to investigate, to decode them, to discover the truth. You know she wants a career as an investigative journalist? Let her have this."
He walked close to Aliandra and laid his hand on her shoulder. "Think, Aliandra. It's you that they want. That's why they recruited your father and gave him such power. If you go there now ... they'll have everything they wanted. It will all have been for nothing. Alone, Amelia stands a chance. She's one unknown girl, she won't raise as much attention. They're actively looking for you, on the other hand."
He motioned for Aliandra to sit back down. "Yes, she was naive once. And that nearly got her killed, and her boyfriend did die. She went with you into the depths of your own house, to help lay its ghosts. And she claimed this task for herself. She's become a very capable witch, Aliandra. Believe me, no one is going to take her by surprise. Added to which, she is a free agent now, while you two are still at college for another year."
Aliandra still looked doubtful, and Jenny looked mortified. Samantha laid hands on both their shoulders. "You have to learn to trust people to use their own abilities, darling, otherwise you're never going to find any peace. You went gallivanting off to look for your Greek island, after all. Let Amelia prove herself and look into the Scottish one. She's in a much better position than you to do it - and it does need doing."
"Besides which, she's already there, and judging by how long this letter would take to arrive, she has been for several days," added Will. "We know where she is, and if she doesn't return soon I'll notify the proper authorities. But the best thing we can do for now is let her investigate without us blowing her cover."
Neither Aliandra nor Jenny were happy at the prospect, but both of them understood that Aliandra would be instantly recognised if she went to Hollow Skerry herself. All they could do was wait and trust in Amelia's luck to hold.