„Finally!” my friend Alex exclaimed when the ancient cabin appeared in the meagre light of the cellphone. “My batteries are almost dead.”

Three weeks ago my great-aunt Bernadette had shuffled off the mortal coil, and her belongings had been divvied up among her remaining relatives. Luckily the reading of her will hadn’t devolved into the frenzied infighting you see in a lot of Hollywood films. There had been a few quiet, subdued dramas but those had been fueled by grief not greed.

Otherwise me inheriting her estate in the countryside would have been a nightmare for me. Even so there had been a few raised voices, asking why Bernadette thought I deserved it most despite having spent at most a few weeks there during my entire life while others had fond childhood memories of the place.

In the end everyone accepted that, the trust-fund paying most of the bills for the estate was very clear on it having to be used as a home – not a vacation spot. I wasn’t tied down by family or a regular job at the moment, and my chosen profession lent itself to freelancing and working from home - so my great-aunt had thought it best to let me have first dibs.

Accepting the offer had been the rational thing to do, but it still left a bad aftertaste.

But so had moving in with my parents again, after getting a regular paycheck for two years. Bleh. ‘Glorious opportunity to find exciting new challenges in the job-market’ my ass! After two months of pre-job-interview-jitters and dashed hopes I really needed something to lift my spirits.

So I had called up my friend Alex, and we had packed up my things and driven cross-country to inspect my new home and see what needed to be done to make it livable again after most of the furniture had been carted away.

We had arrived shortly after sunset, stiff and tired from spending hours inside Alexs’ small car, and had wanted nothing more than to slip inside and lay down on the next available soft surface for a while…. And then my foot caught on something in the darkness and the master key had slipped from my hand disappearing somewhere in the tall grass.

Trying to spot a small item amidst tall grass using only the light of our cellphones turned out to be an exercise in frustration. The days were still warm and pleasant, but at this time of the year the nights got far too chilly to camp outside. I was close to suggesting we wait out the night in the car, when I remembered the old cabin sitting in the woods behind the mansion.

Me and a few cousins of mine had found it while playing Cops&Robbers and declared it our secret club-house. When she found out about it a few days later Bernadette scared the bejeezus out of us with stories about the ghost haunting the little hut.

It wasn't until the reading of the will, that I found out it had been a shrine or ritual space for some forgotten religion. Keeping it in good repair and allowing the occasional anthropologist/historian access, had been part of the conditions for keeping the house.

Historical significance aside, was a dry place to sleep and even had a fireplace if I remembered correctly. I can understand Bernadette trying to keep us kids from messing with it, but surely there was no harm in using it as shelter for tonight.

So we had collected a few things from the car and made our way to the woods. My last visit had been over a decade ago, so it took some trial and error before I finally found the right trail leading to the cabin, but we finally made it.

As soon as we were inside, I hurried over to the fire-pit dominating the middle of the room. Roughly worked fieldstones had been mortared together to form a square base with four thick pillars of the same make supporting the chimney that punched through the roof. I ripped open the sack of coals I had lugged with me all the way here and poured it’s contents into the pit. Some generous use of BBQ charcoal lighters later, and we finally hadn’t to rely solely on our near depleted smartphones any more.

I heard the slight thump as Alex dropped our sleeping bags unceremoniously onto the floor and gave a contented sigh at the sight of the fire “Ahhhh. Good thing we were planning that barbecue.” chilled fingers fanned out in the direction of the flames.

“Hmhm.” I agreed “Of course now we`ll have to find another way to lure in our friends, or we’ll have to do all the heavy lifting on our own.”

“Heh.” Alex snorted before correcting me in a sly tone ” You know they’ll come anyway. They will just groan and moan a lot more. and remind you all the time what great friends they are, for doing all that menial work without expecting any reward whatsoever.”

We spent a few more minutes luxuriating in the warmth of the fire and trying to be witty – coming down after this rather frustrating start at claiming my new home.

After a while the banter petered out, and I started thinking about the best way to heat a can of ravioli using a heap of glowing coals while Alex dug out some tea-lights for illumination.

“Wow.”

Alex comment derailed my train of thought, and I looked up to see what had caught my friends attention: the –for a lack of better word- shrine at the back of the cabin.

I had already known it was there, but I had to admit it was still a wondrous sight. The trunk of a huge living tree was jutting from the wall with a slightly-larger-than-life sized carving of a womans head and upper body emerging from a small alcove in it’s center. Vines crawled over the tree and the woman, giving the illusion of long unkempt tresses or perhaps a hooded cloak.

“Impressive, huh?” I turned to Alex “She is one of the reasons the state helps pay for the house. The owner also gets a small salary for looking after a historical site. It’s not much but every bit helps.”

Alex had taken a few steps towards the tree to take a closer look at the woman “Who is she?”

“I don’t think anyone remembers.” I shrugged and started rooting through my backpack. “You want some?” I asked a few moments later holding up a can of ravioli and getting a nod.

While we waited for our dinner, Alex and I took a look around the cabin, and I told my friend what little I knew about the place. The symbols carved into the walls in whorling lines were the main reason historians were so interested in the place. There were debates who exactly had put them there, but most agreed that the oldest set went waaaaay back. The younger ones might be later inhabitants trying their hand at translating the wisdom of their fore-bearers or perhaps they were adapting the place to their own beliefs. In any case, historians always like getting their hands on well-preserved examples of ancient alphabets.

“Are you sure it’s ok for us to be here.” Alex asked.

“As long as we don’t start defacing the wall,” like scratching your initials into it because you are only twelve and don’t know what you are doing “ I don’t think it is a problem.” I had been damn lucky that the vines hid my little addition to the ancient artwork, or I’d never gotten away with a mild scolding back then.

“Ah. Okay.” Alex looked relieved that we wouldn’t have to go back out into the cold.

While fascinating to historians, one squiggle carved into the wood soon starts to look like any other for laymen like Alex and me. So our little exploration soon shifted to the images carved into the walls beside the tree. They had faded slightly over time and any color that might have been there had long since flaked off, but you could still make out the gist of it.

The left side showed various people and animals in pain or in despair surrounded by whorling lines, while a larger female figure with the same lines sprouting from her head did something …. Probably something magical or godly. The pictures closest to the tree were half hidden behind the vines, and neither of us wanted to pry the plants loose and risk damaging anything. One showed the woman retreating into the tree while surrounded by people, some of the kneeling in reverence. The figures closest to her were noticeable taller than the others and more impressive looking - probably some heroes or rulers of some kind. Another showed a house erected around the tree while people danced around it.

The right side, showed some of the rites that had been practiced here. Alex and I spent some time trying to guess what the pictures represented. The only part we could make any sense was two figures their forearms together with the same swirling lines that surrounded the goddesses head. In each picture they held their bound forearms up in a triumphant gesture as they went through several trials, like fending off armed figures trying to tear the apart or a naked women (probably some kind of siren) trying to lure one of them astray. Their version of bloods brothers in all likelihood.

Alex and I were puzzling over a sequence of a man trying to lash himself to various animals when a soft ‘Gloup, gloup’ reminded me of my rumbling stomach and the two tin cans that were now boiling beside the fireplace.

“Looks still good.” Alex decided when I had rescued our food “But it will take a bit to cool.”

Grabbing one of the vines standing in for the carved womans hair Alex asked with a slight note of excitement “So, how about it? Want to become bloods brothers in the meantime.”

When I hesitated my friend urged “Come on. I doubt anyone would miss one single vine.” tugging the vine slightly for emphasis. The motion caused a small bag to slip from the idols hands.

Alex narrowly succeeded in catching it before it hit the ground, but a few small objects slipped out and hit the ground with a slight clatter. Food temporarily forgotten I hurried over to inspect the damage. Alex had gone down to a knee to get a closer look at whatever had slipped out, and I followed suit. Two irregular white disks were lying on the floor, each bearing a rune similar to the ones covering the walls. “You think I should put them back?” Alex asked hesitantly. I shrugged slightly before nodding “Probably better.” As my friend opened the drawstring slightly to drop the chips back in, Alexs' eyes widened “Look at this!”

When I scooted over to get a better angle, I saw it too. Faded ink declaring ‘Cast us to test thy bond’ written in gothic letters on the leather of the pouch. Alex was practically shivering with excitement now, my friend had always loved the thrill of occult rituals, like Ouija boards or Tarot (it might have something to do with both parents being very devout Christians).

The whole thing smacked a bit too much like the beginning of a horror movie to me, but I knew my friend would just HAVE to try this out soon.

But perhaps I could persuade Alex to wait until the rest of our friends arrived, at least?