The Foxkey Chronicles: What Hides Beneath

Sometimes, Kin, darkness has a way of creating itself. If it can find the means and seek out even the smallest of weaknesses, that wayward evil can blossom and grow like some wretched flower feeding upon a fertilizer of blood and death. But I imagine you know that already, don't you?   I imagine if you have followed me this far, you know that all too well.   Of course....they didn't.    They never do.

Inola stood in a river of red. Rich, unfamiliar red, mixing in with river clear, and turning into a milky, pink froth on the banks, as it burbled, and curdled, and sucked at the mud. Inola stumbled backward, her eyes round, her heart racing. The garment in her hand dripped with it. The length of her skirt was dyed red with it. And her wrists, oh her wrists, they were stained up to the elbow. Dripping pink ochre. Feeling sick to her stomach, Inola dropped the garment and turned, her feet slushing through the water, churning up rich mud that made the red less obvious but the terror in her heart no less turbulent.

 Curious, the Bernard siblings walked up the hill in search of that thing that they had seen, yet not seen. All the while Montgomery came to wonder if what Inola had seen was nothing but a shadow, a figment of her imagination, a mistruth traveling on the breeze because when they reached the top of the hill, no dark figure was to be found.

   Evil, Kin, Evil has a way of twisting a thing. Ain't no denying that we've seen it plenty until now. Sometimes, though, the most well-laid-out plans go awry. And sometimes, if we're lucky, evil can twist and twist and twist a thing right on back to good.    Inola Bernard, at 13 years of age, was the middle child of the Bernard children. At least, she used to be, that is, until her eldest brother died of consumption. Now? She was the oldest. Her youngest brother was less of a brother and more of a tyrant. You know the sort, one of those brothers that knew just the right buttons to push. When it came to Inola, it seemed Montgomery Bernhard had been birthed just to make her life a living hell.

In part three, the final piece to this trilogy, Jack discovers more of the evil workings going on in Greyrock Township. It's now up to him to save the town...or die trying.

Drip. Drip. Drip.Jack Handler blinked awake as something wet and warm dripped onto his head. Opening his eyes, he looked upward and could see, by the faint light of the lamp, a stain growing on the ceiling of the floorboards above him.Drip.Drip.Drip.Jack winced away from the wet splash of liquid as it struck him upon the forehead once more and reached up, touching a hand to his face. He lifted his hand towards the light and saw the dark fluid on his fingertips glisten red.Blood.Find us on patreon.com/foxkeychronicles, where you can join us kin for exclusive storylines.