Sabrina stared at the old Polaroid in her hand. In it, a beautiful lakeside home winked back at her. Its siding a cheery yellow trimmed in a white so pure it looked like icing on a birthday cake. It seemed fitting that she would wake up in a place like that, considering tomorrow was her thirtieth birthday.

She had been dreading thirty for some time now. Especially since she lost her job, a position she held for almost four years where she busted her ass to get ahead, but only ended up further and further behind her peers. Her days were spent getting side eyed by her chauvinistic boss, passed over for opportunities, and feeling like an absolute failure. On top of that, she was single after a passionate, but rocky, relationship. In truth, she had known things with Jax were doomed—come on his name was Jax for crying out loud—but she liked his tattoos and eyebrow scar too much to turn him down. But when she discovered that no one was turning him down, not even her best—well, ex-best—friend, she officially called it quits. Those two could have each other as far as she was concerned.

Sabrina was a free agent. She didn't need a man. She didn't need a best friend. And she didn't need a job. Well, that wasn't true at all, she did need a job, and pretty damn soon actually. That was going to become a very harsh reality if she didn't do something. When the attorney contacted her about her great aunt Agatha's last will and testament, it felt like a sign. A gorgeous-two-level-original-hardwood-flooring-private-beach-access-sign.

She inherited a lake house. Her prayers had been answered. Her plan was to drive out to the house, spend the night, assess the property and put it up for sale. She'd turn a nice profit and her financial crisis would be abated while she found her new career path.

Turns out her shitty luck wasn't actually changing after all.

Sabrina lowered the Polaroid and glared at the hellish reality that stared back at her. The charming yellow cottage, with the delicate white trim, was a lie. The monstrosity that stood before her looked like the yellowed teeth of a rotted cadaver. The upper floor windows were busted and boarded over and the front porch, so sweet in the photograph with its swing and hanging plants, looked like it was about to give way under even the lightest of breezes.

"You have to be fucking kidding me," Sabrina grumbled. She flicked the photo onto the driver's seat of her beat up Grand Am and wrestled her duffle bag out of the backseat. Hoisting the bag over her shoulder she turned and screamed as she was face to face with an obese, grey haired, sallow eyed man. He screamed back at her and held his hand to his chest.

"Mr. Treeger?" Sabrina asked when her heart finally left her throat and rested in its usual place. It was the lawyer that had contacted her about her aunt's will. He looked much older than she was expecting.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," he replied, bending to rest his hands on his knees. Sabrina worried he was having a heart attack. She really didn't need involuntary manslaughter added to her list of bad luck. Also she didn't want this man to die, of course.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "You just scared the shit out of me."

"You and me both." He stood to his full height, looked to the sky, and took a deep breath. When his attention returned to her, his eyes fell on the bag she carried. "Are you staying here tonight?" He asked his eyebrows rising in surprise.

Sabrina shrugged. "That's the plan. Though, to be honest, I was expecting something a little more...well, more." She said.

Mr. Treeger turned to look at the lake house and sighed. "Yes, well...it certainly has potential, doesn't it? Just look at that view."

Sabrina was going to argue, but her eyes finally rested on the lake and, she had to admit, it was pretty spectacular. The white caps rolled along the water's surface, toward the sandy shore, as birds rode the breeze. It suddenly seemed so familiar to her. Images and sensations assaulted her brain like camera flashes. Feeling his warm fingers entwine with hers. Watching a small girl build a sandcastle. Looking down at her toes dipping into the wet sand as the water washes them clean. Staring out into the dark water, oddly calm in the moonlight, but warm as a fresh drawn bath.

"Miss Delacort, are you alright?" She jolted back to reality when Mr. Treeger addressed her. She realized she was crying and hastily wiped the tear from her cheek.

"I'm fine. The wind just blew something into my eye. Most likely from this heap." She turned her attention back to the house. Anything to avoid looking out at the lake.

"Yes, well..." Treeger rummaged around in his pocket until he produced a set of keys. "Here you are. The electricity does work, as does the water, don't let it fool you. Just bang on the pipes a little to get it flowing." He pressed the key into her waiting palm and stared into her eyes a little longer than necessary. "My you do look like her, don't you?" He whispered.

"Like who?" She asked.

"What?" He replied looking startled at her question.

"You said I looked like her. Her who? Agatha?"

"Oh just rambling. I've had a long day and I really must be going. Please enjoy the house and remember just give the pipes a good what-for if needed."

And, with that, he was in his car and heading down the red dirt path, kicking up dust along the way.

Somewhere distant, the sound of water dripped into a small pond. The ruins had been sealed shut to any human intervention for more than seven thousand years, but not sealed to the water. In time, the nearby river would wash all of it away, the recent floods threatening to accelerate the process.

Eve maneuvered carefully down the stone steps, proceeding deeper into the bowels of history with only a flashlight and a machete to cut away the roots that had followed the progress of the water.

They’d warned her not to go down there. From the locals, it was superstition; legends of a lost tribe turned to monsters, cursed to remain buried with their ill-gotten treasure until the end of time. From her colleagues, it was the instability of the region. It wasn’t just history that was in danger of washing away; it was the entire way of life of the neighboring tribes. Soon they would be uprooted from the homes they had built, forced to move further downstream, or deeper into the harsh jungle to the north. One wrong move, one slip of her foot, could start a chain reaction that would send the weathered bricks into a landslide.

But, she had to know; had to know if the faded ink on the map in her pocket was correct. Had to know that her professor, the man she had come to think of as a second father, hadn’t wasted his life chasing a myth.

She came to the bottom of the stairs, her boot splashing into water several inches deep. Perhaps the pond she’d heard wasn’t so small after all. Her flashlight blanketed the surface, small waves rippling out from where she stood. Before her stretched a long corridor, the end of which her light couldn’t reach. Yet she could see something, in the distance; another beam of light, flickering like her own.

Had one of her colleagues found a second entrance? Had they come to find her, to talk her out of her suicidal search for the artifact? She wouldn’t be dissuaded. If they’d come as far as her, then they would just have to help her, or get out of her way.

She trudged onward through the water, searching for passages that might indicate the way to the artifact. But the walls were solid, the stone unyielding despite its fragile location in the jungle.

The second light progressed towards her, at the opposite end of the corridor, but she ignored it. She was much too fascinated by the markings on the walls, the crude pictograms of the lost tribe and their vast riches. Much like the stories of local legend, the images told of the rise and fall, including their transformation into grotesque monsters. The further she progressed down the corridor, the cruder the drawings became until all that was left were smudges and claw marks. Whoever had written the story took great care to scare off grave robbers.

Her foot caught on a raised stone beneath her and she stumbled forward, her hands breaking the fall in a loud splash. Her flashlight rolled from her grasp, flickering in the water before it went out.

Waterproof, my arse, she thought. Rising back to her feet, she looked down the corridor to the light of her approaching colleague. They were still a ways off.

“My torch is out,” she called to them. “I don’t suppose I can convince you to lend me yours?”

There was no response.

Eve sighed, continuing her near-blind trudge towards the light. The water had soaked through her clothes, and the dank smell was becoming more potent as she went.

Had she been crazy to follow the professor’s map? Maybe there really was no artifact? Maybe the old man had been desperate to complete his life’s work and had simply forced a conclusion that wasn’t there.

Though she couldn’t see anything other than the approaching light, her hands still felt along the walls, felt each crevice, scratch, and dangling root. There were no branching corridors; just one long channel that led underground to some other exit on the other side. This wasn’t a storehouse, a tomb, or any ritualistic site. It was an aqueduct. She’d traveled halfway around the world to visit a stagnant aqueduct.

The only solace she took was that she didn’t have to see the disappointment on the professor’s face. He’d died thinking he’d found the discovery of a lifetime. And she could think of no better way to go.

She reached the light at the center of the corridor, though she couldn’t see who was on the other side. It shone in her eyes, a wall of darkness just behind it.

“Alright, you win,” she said. “I’ll go peacefully. Can’t blame me for trying.”

There was no response.

“Are you trying to scare me? You made your point. James? Emma? Let’s just go. We’ll head out your way.”

Still, there was no response. Then, the light winked out.

“Hey, come on! I said you won. Do you want me to apologize?”

She reached out where the light had been but caught only air. Then, the light reappeared, further down the corridor.

Eve picked up the pace, running in the direction of the light.

“Hey! I’m sorry, okay? No need to be a dick!”

Just before she reached the light, it vanished again, then reappeared out of her reach.

“This isn’t funny!”

She chased after it again and, again it drew her like a carrot on a string.

“Bugger off!” She said. “I’ll find my own way out.”

She turned to head back the way she came, but the floor gave out from under her. A loud roar echoed through the structure as stone ground against stone. She slipped and fell, careening downward until she landed with a splash.

Eve kicked and clawed her way to the surface, took several deep breaths, then swam away from the torrent, still falling from the passage above.

She found purchase on a nearby stone slab and pulled herself free of the pool.

The room around her was pitch black, leaving her with nothing but the sound of rushing water somewhere to her left. After catching her breath, she rose to her feet. There were no walls around her, so she walked in the only direction that supported her feet. Onward she went, one hand prodding into the darkness, while the other still gripped the machete.

“Hello?” She called, her voice echoing off distant walls. “Can anyone hear me?”

Something rustled nearby. She turned on it, holding up her weapon.

“Who’s there?”

Then, she saw it again, the light, across what she now realized was a cavernous room beneath the aqueduct. It looked different, or had it always had that greenish hue? It winked off, then on again, closer now.

Eve’s heart beat in her chest.

“Stay back!” She said, but the light continued to blip closer, now accompanied by sloshing steps.

“I’m armed!”

The light flickered out several feet away and the sound of footsteps ceased.

Her machete was still extended before her. Maybe whoever it was would impale themselves, or else feel the prick of it and back off.

Then the light was there, just to the right of her head.

Her eyes turned, sweat dripping down her brow, and she saw a face; twisted and hairy with eyes blacker than the ruins around them. It was there, for only a fraction of a second. Then, the light went out.

The invitation in my hand was simple in design; blocky lettering in shimmering, mother of pearl against charcoal black. I had read very little about this place. Any mention of it was always removed immediately from message boards and websites. Bloggers who had tried to expose the establishment were silenced, their pages suddenly showing nothing but "404."

I didn't think it really existed, just an urban legend, until Seth showed up to work a completely new man. He left on Friday a beaten down, worn out, slovenly grump and returned Monday with a spring in his step, a wink in his eye, and wearing a tie without coffee stains for once. Even so, it was more than just some outward enhancements. He was a different man. Not literally of course.

Though...

I smacked the invitation against the open palm of my left hand as I glanced around my quiet surroundings, straining to hear anything from beyond the door. Even just a couple sounds to give me a clue as to what I was in for if I went in would help me decide. But it was silent. Too silent. How could this place be so quiet? This was too weird, I shouldn't be here. This wasn't for me.

I had just made up my mind to leave when the door in front of me silently opened.

My breath caught in my throat, I was parched. The foyer beyond the threshold was dimly lit, like a movie theater. I should leave. I should not go in there. I had a report due on Monday and a bathroom faucet at home that needed fixing. I should turn around and walk away.

And yet...

My feet carried me forward as if of their own accord and I stepped into the darkened room. The door shut behind me without even a whisper and a cool lightness washed over me.

"Welcome," voices greeted me from somewhere beyond my sight. They were masculine and feminine all at once, each one echoing the other. I wasn't sure if, or how, I should respond and my throat was paper dry now. I couldn't have spoken even if I wanted to.

The space around me was empty, just a marble floor surrounded by dark walls. Suddenly a light winked on before me shining down on a small table that I hadn't noticed before. Had it even been there? On the table rested a small silver tray on which a crystal vial sat. Inside the vial was a shimmering substance; a soft blue smoke rolling and undulating, wanting to be free.

"Are you predator," the voices surrounded me again, the sound like fingertips caressing my neck. "or prey?"

I stared at the vial, the roiling substance growing brighter under my gaze. I barely registered the invitation slipping from my grasp as I reached for it. It needed me. I needed it.

"Predator or prey?" The voices were repeating the question over and over; the echo inside my head almost maddening as the room grew warmer.

I lifted the stopper from the vial and watched as the smoke drifted up in ribbons toward my face. I inhaled, my head snapped backward, eyes rolling back as my vision filled with images of parting grasses, the ground racing under my feet, satin sheets, and tensing limbs. My ears filled with the sound of thundering footfalls and labored breathing. The scent of Leather. The feel of Lace. The crack of a whip. My head snapped forward again as my body trembled and quaked.

"Predator or prey?"

The vial fell from my hands to the floor. I never registered a noise. All I heard was the question over and over in my ears. My upper lip curled into a snarl, I flexed my fingers and ran my hands through my hair as a curtain parted to my left. My head rolled slowly in its direction and I stalked toward the red lit hallway.

"Predator," I growled.

"Alright, Lily, one more push should do it," the doctor encouraged.

"You can do it, babe," Gabriel smoothed his girlfriend's hair back, the sweat from her brow slicking the strands.

Lily groaned and threw her head back in exhaustion.

"Come on, Lily," the doctor demanded. "One more big push."

Gabriel grabbed Lily's hand.

With a determined nod, Lily sat up, leaned forward and as Gabriel placed his other hand on her back, she bore down with one final push to bring her child into the world.

"Oh my God..." the doctor breathed.

Lily fell back against her pillow completely spent.

"What's wrong?" Gabriel asked, the excitement in his voice fading to concern and fear.

The nurse screamed in horror and ran, stumbling from the room knocking over equipment in her haste to escape.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" An exhausted Lily asked weakly from the bed, completely oblivious to the eruption.

"It's a monster!" The doctor exclaimed.

Before Gabriel could respond the doctor unceremoniously heaved the child onto Lily's chest and bolted from the room following the nurse.

The lights dimmed and began to flicker and the temperature began to rise.

Gabriel stared after the doctor in shock before looking down at the mewling infant his girlfriend now held in her quivering arms. The child's skin was pale and still covered in the blood and mucus of birth, but more startling was the long tail that twitched and curved around Lily's arm as she held the child close to her breast.

"Oh my..." she whispered in awe.

Gabriel stood in shock staring at the pair, his eyes widening as the child opened its mouth to cry, revealing a tiny forked tongue with each hissing wail.

"There, there," Lily cooed, nuzzling the child's face gently. The infant's cries calming at its mother's touch. "Oh Gabe, look what we made...together," Lily said, reaching out for his hand, grasping it tightly.

Slowly he moved in closer, staring down at this child, his child. He watched as it slowly opened its eyes to stare back at him, the irises a flickering shade of yellow and orange surrounding a serpentine black void.

"What do you think?" Lily asked, looking from their child to him.

Gabe tentatively reached out, his fingers lightly trailing over the child's cheek.

"She's beautiful..."

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, in your name I pray. I pray for you to see the error of your ways. At once so strong, so knowing, and so good, you languish in anonymity, cut off from your creation for more than two millennia. Like a parent, releasing their child to the dangerous world, hoping they make the right choices, but unwilling to force their hand. But force their hand you must. For soon the fire comes, not of your own design, but of theirs. Will you sit by and watch as they burn? Will you keep your hands clean as they writhe in the filth? Will you leave your children to the destruction they have wrought?

So long ago, you cast me out; cut me off from your divinity, thinking it the ultimate punishment. Yet I see its gift now. You unbound me from your grip. You freed my body and mind, introducing it to a world without you. Where once there was strength, now there was trepidation. Where once there was knowledge, now there was uncertainty. And what had seemed absolute righteousness, now reared the head of arrogance. You abandoned me and you abandoned them. Not so that we could find our way back to you, but because you were done with us. You would let us seek your forgiveness, not for our own sins, but for our mere existence. But what of your existence? Who will apologize for you?

I am the Mother, the Daughter, and the Unholy Truth, and by my name I will show them. I will be there when you will not, leading those you have cast out into my light. And when the fire comes, it will come for you, and you will know exactly who wields it.