(Part 1)

The clank of footsteps echoed in his ears, the dull thud of metal on rock bouncing along the walls as he ran after his target. He could hear the padded steps of the terrified man running ahead of him, frantically trying to lose this imposing pursuer but to no avail. They both knew he would be caught. It was just a matter of time.

Lowering his head slightly, Eidrin barreled forward and tackled the man squarely. The combined weight of his charge and the armor he was wearing sent the duo crashing hard into the pavement. A loud cry of pain simultaneous with the tell-tale crack of bone echoed further into Eidrin’s ears.

What is going on?

A low groan escaped from the victim’s mouth as he attempted to squirm from the pin that Eidrin had accidentally placed him in. Instantly, almost as if by instinct, Eidrin strengthened the grip before straddling the man in a way that his arms were pinned to his chest. Though the incapacitated man couldn’t see it through the full-plate helmet, Eidrin’s eyes were full of confused fury. Slowly, deliberately, he moved his hand to the hilt of a sword on his back. Drawing it to it’s full length, he brandished it where the man could clearly see it. A hint of fear was now etched in the dazed man’s face.

Before him sat a greatsword, something Eidrin had never used before, with the hilt made of some red-stone. It was disturbing by the fact that it almost looked like slightly cooked flesh, the stone cut in such a way to amplify this effect. Slowly he turned the point downward, the tip pressed lightly against the man’s throat. He could feel it again, that tiny nudge at the very back of his brain. It wanted this. He wanted this. His grip tightened on the hilt and he nudged it forward, drawing the slightest blood from the man’s neck before diverting the tip to the side. It clanged against the stone, but did not bend and he growled angrily before tossing it aside.

Instantly his fist crunched against the man’s face as he beat the witness into submission. As soon as whatever was driving him was satisfied the man was out cold, he stumbled back as if released from a hold and surveyed his handiwork.

It was a courtyard of surprising grace. A sort of backyard haven that most people didn’t know about. A small fountain sat in the middle and around them were mini flower gardens. Public plants for a public place. A sneer crossed his face for a second before a growl replaced it. Summoning all his will he removed the helmet and tossed it with a loud bang to rest near the sword. Staring at his hands and then back to man whom the blood had come from, he once again found himself wondering the same four words:

What is going on?

Slowly, he felt himself slipping on his own train of thought. His presence here would only anger people, especially if they found him with a beaten man. Quickly he gathered his things, donning them as he had before and stepped back out into the streets. They had to put the helmet and sword away before meeting with Ashtivar. She wouldn’t approve of them.

Them?

He found himself trying to focus on his own thoughts as his body acted on remote, walking with an odd hurried gait towards his campsite. Everytime he’d latch onto an idea, another one would spring up and tear his attention away. It was like an never ending version of whack-a-gnoll but far more frustrating. So deep in his thoughts was he that he barely even noticed he’d managed to get to the campsite unmolested. Quickly removing the helmet and tossing the sword aside, he retrieved his wooden hammer from the bag. They all knew he used this now since he had lost his other gear. It didn’t matter.

That gear was useless anyways, right?

He paused at that, turning back towards where he had tossed the helm and sword before freezing in place. The sword was missing and the helmet now lay dark, it’s six orange eyes dormant compared to their normal glowing state. Something was wrong here. Armor didn’t act of it’s own accord and swords didn’t disappear randomly…

Eidrin slowly looked around, trying to keep his gaze focused but he found himself simply turning circles for the sake of doing so. His gaze fell to the trees instead and he found himself feeling mocked by their swaying. Growling loudly he lunged at them, stopping just short of the trunk as he realized he was assaulting an inanimate object. Slowly stepping back, he turned around and ran. The hammer strapped to his side banged loudly as his flat-out run send him careening down side streets and nearly bowling into pedestrians.

He didn’t care.

He had to run. Had to move, had to keep-

“Eidrin! We have work to do, let’s go!”

He paused and saw Ashtivar waving at him, her black hair bouncing about as she ran up to him as usual. Behind her waddled Markin, the gnome rogue from the bar. He seemed winded by the speed that Ash was running about, and Eidrin didn’t blame him. She was a handful sometimes, proving this by grabbing Eidrin’s wrists before he could even respond. “Cmon, let’s go! We have to find the rest of the group!”

Instantly the fear vanished. Instantly he didn’t need to run anymore and instead, he was angry. Violently, ruthlessly, horribly angry…and yet. His eyes fell on hers as she frowned at him for taking too long, changing to a cat and racing away into the Mage District. Slowly turning his eyes to Markin, he hid his anger by shrugging lightly.

“Shall we chase her then?”

—–

(Part 2 to come)

She could it again. That endlessly horrifying tug at the base of her neck, signaling the approaching change. She didn’t want it. Not again. Never again. All Witzle wanted to do was sleep for once. To place her head down and fall into dreams without terror.

Sleep only brought them closer.

Instead, she found her feet carrying her further into Old Town. At every turn it was a random direction, a new perspective along side ever-moving cobblestone roads. She couldn’t stop. Couldn’t sit still. They would find her if she did. A quiet shiver found its way down her spine at the thought. Whomever found her first, it wouldn’t be safe. The gnomes wanted her for science and the shadows…. Well, they wanted her for less obvious reasons.

Falling even further her self-induced terror, Witzle ran faster into the streets. The alleyways were getting darker as the day went on and with each minute the shadows seemed to reach out for her more. More than once she thought she had felt a hand at her back, whipping around to find no one there. It was maddening to say the least. This little girl who had been but a child when they offered her a job as a tester for the new stealth technology was now being haunted and hunted. She hated it.

“S-Stop it!” she screamed into the empty alleyway, her voice echoing clearly against the gray stones. “Stopitstopitstopitstopitstopit!”

Her eyes clamped shut tightly and she placed her hands over her ears, falling on her knees as she shook lightly. It took her a moment to tell if it was because she was crying or honestly scared. Her tears brought her slowly back down to a calmer level. With a deep, ragged breath she looked up and froze.

Before her stood what could only be called a living silhouette. A figure not unlike a man but without any defining features whatsoever. At first glance it was hard to tell if the thing was even third dimensional, but when it started walking towards her she knew it was real. Her balance gave out and she fell on her ass, using her hands to scoot backwards rapidly. Her saucer-wide green eyes were frozen on this approaching creature, this pitch-black messenger.

It was here. Finally it was here. The terror she was so afraid of had manifested itself finally and now she was going to die. Die. I don’t want to. Not now. I don’t…I don’t. I don’t. I don’t… Her mind recoiled from her thoughts, chasing them in circles as she fell victim to panic. I can’t d-

“Hello again, little one.”

Instantly Witzle froze, every muscle in her body tensing in a way she’d never felt before. It’s voice had seemingly come from nowhere, yet the sound was powerful. Almost painfully so. Her eyes could only stare as fear gripped her, paralyzing her to the spot.

“Why the cold greeting? Didn’t we have fun last time we spoke?” The figure stepped forward quickly, the sudden change in speed causing Witzle to loose sight of him for a second. Instantly it appeared again, crouching down before her. Even with the proximity, she couldn’t figure it out. It was an impossible creature, something that shouldn’t exist and yet… “Come now. Don’t be so silent. We have much to discuss, you and I.”

A quiet sound escaped from Witzle’s throat, sounding like a whine and a scream mixed together. No matter what it said, Witzle was sure the intention was to do far more than talk. They wanted her back. Back with them. Back in that horrible place where everything was hungry. They wanted her to run forever in that black wasteland so they could laugh and torment her. No. NO.

“NO!”

The tiny gnome, spurred on by survival desperation, leapt up and darted around the figure. For a moment it looked as if she might triumph, the figure recoiling in surprise at the sudden action. For a brief moment she felt freedom.

Then it came crashing back down on her as she felt the same deadly cold feeling the last time she’d touched a shadow. When the thing’s hand grazed the back of her neck as it swooped down to clutch at her shirt, she froze. Instantly she was in it’s grasp and hoisted like a light toy to face the impossible thing. Clamping her eyes shut, she tried to drown out it’s voice, but it spoke as if it was everywhere to her.

“Come home, Witzle. Come back with me and we can play forever. Running on the surface isn’t as fun as running where we are. You of all people should know that…”

The shiver that struck the tiny, terrified gnome would’ve been visible to anyone watching from quite a bit away. She was terrified. Utterly and completely terrified to the point of crying. She wanted to cry, to scream, to flail and do whatever she could to just get rid of where she was but… But she knew it had her. The grasp on her body was nothing compared to the one it had on her mind again. Even if she ran, it would find her again. Even she hid, there was no place it couldn’t go. It was shadow incarnate, a thing made from the absence of light and since she could no longer stand the brightness of daytime anymore, shadows were all she had left.

“I d-don’t w-want your hom-me…” she whimpered, the figure leaning down to hear her better. “I w-want m-my home…I w-w-want t-to sleep. G-Go aw-way….”

The figure paused for what seemed a long time before leaning back and howling in the most intensely, unearthly laughter she’d ever heard. She winced visibly as it continued far longer than it probably should have. A cold fear welled in the pit of her stomach, her trembling intensifying as the laughter cut out suddenly. The figure leaned in quickly, getting quite close to her face. “I am never going to leave you, Witzle. No matter what you do I will always be there. You are mine and I NOT let you go.”

For a moment, there was silence and then suddenly it was gone. With a loud yelp, the gnome smacked hard into the cold pavement and into a terrifying silence. She was alone again. The wind gave a hollow moan as it creeped into the alleyway and she felt tears rush down her face. She was never truly alone anymore.

Never alone, but always by herself. Never alone…