The Chronicles continue: I know no longer where to run, how to conceal myself from the blackened fate this vile putrid place. The mist is seemingly churning as the ground trembles more and more with the coming sound and I step back, trying anxiously to see into the misty smoke.
I know no longer where to run, how to conceal myself from the blackened fate this vile putrid place. The mist is seemingly churning as the ground trembles more and more with the coming sound and I step back, trying anxiously to see into the misty smoke.
My gut instinct screams for me to turn and run, but I am intrigued and hesitant, filled with answers. Just then something dark catches my vision within the mist, nearing me. I take a step back, my breath caught tight in my lungs as I feel my heart tightly compress at the grip of terror.
Like a bat from the spawns of hell a guy barrages from the mist, hurtling directly into me, his hands gripping my jacket, plucking with a force as he continues to sprint away from the mist, almost slugging me behind him, now clinging to my wrist.
This sudden jolt has my mind spinning in the seconds that follow him grabbing me and including me in his running from the sound in the mist but I know that I do not bare the luxury to fathom the origin of this trembling earth and sound so vaguely similar to a march of soldiers nor do I have time to contest this stranger’s forceful pull, and all the while my gut screams, “Don’t look back!”
But I do. And slithering out of the hard smoke like soldiers of death comes an army of black cloaked soldiers with sizzling black swords in hand, nothing more visible to obtain identity but the fiery glare of their eyes that shines in the blackness beneath their hoods. I almost stumble on this black soil and I hear the guy shouting in an accent, “Run or die!”. I continue to dart in tow in what feels like slow motion as I know the dark soldiers are still walking behind us with a calmed pace. The black soil bares no similarity to the earth and world I know. Ahead of us, at least another two days journey lies the ghostly silhouette of the city I have been watching on the horizon, it is faces the front that I realize what a darkness I must still cross to reach this forsaken city. Then from the black skies comes again the roaring whispers as the black shapeless evil descends towards us.
Like horses galloping until seeing a snake in the grass – we skid to a stop, terrified and confused at where to turn with these dark soldiers behind us and the bubbling shapeless entity screaming down from the front. We begin to run again, towards the side where the earth makes a deep slope towards the further blackness before the city in the distance. As we begin to scurry down the sharp slope of jagged rocks and blackened wicked soil, I loose sight of the soldiers, the shadow from the formless blackness hits against us, cold and numbing.
Just then the earth at my feet vanishes and I tumble in the air, slamming down on my back, rolling and flipping and rolling down, the hard coarse soil jabbing and slashing at me as I continue to fumble until my weight is at peace on the ground. I lift my head to find that I lay on red sand inside what appears to be a cavern ruggedly slashed into the ground. It is silent here, warmer than above. I try bravely to raise my weary body from the ground, all the while searching this dim red place for the stranger. I hear roaring from above and I lean forward against this horrid slanted cut in the earth but I can see no sky.
“That was wild...” Comes a tired, broken voice from the side. I spin around, part in surprise and part in distrust. Standing with the most broken and lost face I have seen with my two eyes is a stranger my age, weary and bloody and dirty.
A kind smile breaks across his face, “You can call me…Cook.”