Chapter 11 – The Cave of the Cats
The round dip in the courtyard’s mosaic wasn't completely dry anymore. With a barely noticeable whisper, a tiny trickle of water had found its way onto the black-and-white tiles. The water mirror was filling up again, just like a rushing river after a long drought.
Shehrazad, Samir, Anemo, and snowy-white Remi stared at the water mirror, their hearts full of hope. With their help, the Child would get better, and everything would be alright.
"You know, El-Beyda," the grandmother said gently, "I feel a bit guilty that you're trapped in a cat’s body right now, but I don't regret what I did. Heaven heard my prayers and made sure the collar found you. It will also make sure you become a woman again when the time is right. I hope you'll come back tomorrow evening!"
They said goodbye to the grandmother and her grandson, then set off through the narrow streets back to their old-fashioned apartment.
"Tomorrow, we'll go and check out our travel options back to Ireland," Professor Simoon said. "It’s best to be prepared in advance."
Remi, who was walking ahead of them, wished she could tell them how terrified she was of the Island of Cats and all the spooky legends about it. But she was stuck in a cat’s body. Her friends weren't touching the collar, and they didn't have the superpowers that Fleur, Asamir, and Shehrazad had.
"Maybe this superpower has some genetic link to Ancient Egypt... Who knows?" the writer thought to herself.
As soon as they got back to the apartment, Simoon’s phone started ringing. It was Trench, calling to say he was heading home.
"Yes, Mr Daniel, we're staying a bit longer. But what about you? Didn't you say you were staying until December? What? Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that. Have a safe journey! Absolutely, see you back home."
After hanging up, Simoon stood there, looking thoughtful.
"What’s wrong? Why are they leaving?" Anemo asked.
"His wife had a really bad allergic reaction... a nasty rash, and they don't want to stay any longer."
Perhaps it was time for everyone to go to bed. Remi’s journey through the ether had left them all exhausted. But the white cat curled up on Anemo’s lap, just like she always did when she wanted to tell him something. He picked her up gently and placed her beside him on the sofa. Then, he pulled the laptop table close enough to reach.
"Do you want to talk? What's bothering you, Remi?" Anemo asked, keeping one hand on the Collar of the Two Skies.
"I’m scared, Anemo. The portal we need to catch at the Cave of the Cats in Ireland terrifies me. Let’s look it up again. Search the internet for everything you can find about the Cave of the Cats!"
Anemo gently stroked Remi’s silky fur, fixing his eyes on the bright laptop screen while his fingers flew across the keyboard.
"Look, Remi, I've found it," he said. "Oweynagat, in County Roscommon. In the Gaelic language, it’s called Uaimh na gCat, which literally means 'The Cave of the Cats'. Old translations call it 'Ireland’s Gateway to Hell'. I totally get why you're scared. The stories about this place are absolutely spine-chilling, but honestly... you know I’ll be right there with you."
Anemo placed her on a high cushion. Standing up on her back legs with her front paws resting on the desk, Remi could now read the screen with her own eyes while Anemo read out loud:
"It says here that giant, magical wild cats once burst out from the depths of the cave to test the bravery of great mythical heroes. That’s where the name comes from. What’s more, the place is officially known as the birthplace of the pagan festival of Samhain—which is the ancestor of modern-day Halloween. Legends say that every year, at the end of October, the veil between our world and the Otherworld completely vanishes there. Nightmare monsters with three heads, birds with toxic breath, and magical beasts would escape from the portal and destroy the land. It’s also believed to be the home of Morrígan, the goddess of war and shape-shifting."
Remi read all the information popping up on the screen right in front of them. It felt like her writer's imagination was doing her no favours this time, because she could actually picture it: the hideous, giant cats, the magical boars, and the ravens. She could almost hear the eerie, unearthly howling guarding the portal.
"I know, Remi, the entrance itself looks pretty creepy," Anemo said, trying to comfort her. "But you won't be alone. Look, if you want, we can bring Mistral and Sirocco with us. Let's just get back to Ireland first, and then we'll plan everything nicely in advance. If you like, we can even go and get used to the place before the Winter Solstice."
"It’s not a tidy tourist cave, Anemo!" she let out an anxious meow, which the young man understood perfectly.
"I know it isn't," he continued, reading further from the screen. "It's hidden in a ditch on the side of a farm lane. To get inside, you have to crawl on your stomach through a stone passage about ten metres long. It’s super narrow and full of mud."
Professor Simoon was looking over his son's shoulder too. He scratched his head thoughtfully, trying to figure out other ways to save the girl while Anemo kept reading aloud:
"The ceiling is held up by ancient stone slabs covered in Ogham writing, which is an old Celtic alphabet. One stone even mentions the name of the great Queen Medb. Only after this tight tunnel does the ground suddenly open up into a deep, natural limestone split, buried in total silence."
"Look for pictures, Anemo!" the professor said. "We need to see it, to get used to the place."
Anemo clicked around quickly, opening up a gallery of raw photos taken deep inside the darkness of Oweynagat. The laptop screen filled with pictures taken by explorers. The first photo showed nothing more than a tight, low crack hidden in a grassy bank, framed by grey stone blocks covered in damp moss. The entrance tunnel looked claustrophobic, its hand-carved walls smeared with thick, sticky mud from thousands of years ago.
The next few shots went beyond the narrow tunnel, where the space suddenly opened out into a huge natural gallery—a massive split in the earth. The flashlights used by the photographers could barely cut through the pitch-black darkness. The soft limestone walls looked as if they were sweating; big drops of water sparkled on the jagged ceiling, ready to fall. The rock was perfectly smooth, washed and polished by the slow trickle of water over thousands of years, leaving behind long, chalky streaks that made the cave look alive.
Deep down in this split, where the silence of the earth became absolute, the camera had captured two natural pools. The water in them was so clean and still that it looked solid, like a sheet of black volcanic glass. Not a single ripple ruined its perfect surface. In the camera's flash, you couldn't see the rocky bottom at all; instead, the water reflected the cave ceiling so clearly that the deep water looked like it went on forever upside down.
Simoon leaned closer over his son's shoulder, zooming in on the photo, and stared at the strange reflection in silence for a few seconds. He took off his glasses, wiped them absent-mindedly on his shirt, and spoke in a low, almost magical voice:
"Look closely, Anemo... Look, Remi. One of those pools is most likely a time mirror. In all ancient cultures, completely still water deep underground wasn't just a puddle—it was a sacred surface, a screen used to look deep into time. If the cave is linked to the goddess of shape-shifting, that still water doesn't just reflect a picture; it holds the memory of the place and time."
"But Dad, you didn't tell us anything about these pools... do we have to climb into them?"
"Oh, no! Not at all. We just need to make sure Remi takes off the collar at the right moment, during that twenty-four-hour window of the Winter Solstice. Until then, we—or rather Remi—will have fixed the time mirror in Shehrazad's courtyard and saved the Child."
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