___It screamed, a hollow crackle of sound, echoing off the vacant dungeon walls. My companions woke immediately, some frozen in terror, others dashing to their feet. I watched them, I could feel their fear. The older ones tried to hide it, it would all be useless. Fear had to be conquered, not avoided or hid. When they found her, it would be chaotic, half would flee, and half would die. It was their adventure, and how they died was not his business -- he was here for other reasons.
___In minutes, the group was calmed to silence. Good, he thought, but they wouldn't have time to calm themselves when the time came. It was still impressing, the first taste of the haunt launched them into terror, it was only a sound, and it would be a full day before they reached its "lair." The hunt would continue, spiraling down toward the center of the earth. They ate in silence, and were immediately on their way. It was a hunt for death, but they were innocent. . . but then, so was she.
___They were far from the best, very far. A group of ameteurs, seeking fame and glory, and gold. Mercenaries, that weren't mercenaries yet, and would never be. Their fate had been sealed from the beginning, they hoped, but hope was futile. It was good, the best would be no match for it, and the world would have lost its heroes for nothing. Let them fight what they can kill, the world needs heroes, living heroes. But these men would never reach their homes again.
___There were fifty of them, fiftly fighters meant nothing to it: fifty children. They walked in silence towards the mist below. Each armed, each armored, each scared. Numbers meant nothing, for one who can't die. The steel blades useless, the steel armor useless, the fifty warriors, all useless. He wondered how it would happen, how would they all die. Who would flee, who would die first, who would die last, among the bodies of his comrades. Who, how would it happen, how did it happen.
___She heard them, coming from the sky, she waited. Would they kill her? She silently wished for death. She knew these would be her last thoughts before whatever happened next, she knew something was about to take control. When it was over, she would resume her power, and feel what she had just done. And hurt, and wish she had died. Then she would remember the details, almost like a dream, but real. Then she would wait, for decades, until it happened again, never forgetting what was about to happen. Why was she here, what did she do, why, why. . .
Jeff Hartline