The Disappearance of Shanae Blackthorne

Shanae gritted her teeth as dust and debris skittered down the wall towards her. Jonathan shouted to hold on, which a part of her registered as somewhat absurd, since he was the one holding her up by the ankle. Between that and the yawning void below her she was finding it very difficult to line up a shot on whatever was thrashing around at the top of the wall. She managed to get her bow untangled from her cloak with a minimum of fumbling and even saved a few arrows from tumbling out of her quiver into the darkness. As Jonathan swung them both out from under the worst of the falling stone, she nocked an arrow to her bow and took a deep, shuddering breath.

She muttered the arcane syllables she’d learned from Silver Belle, the strange words leaving a hollow feeling in the back of her mind. A whisper of power left her lips and went spiraling down the lines etched into the arrow shaft in thin tendrils of green flame. Were the flames darker than usual? She tried not to think about what this place might be doing to her amateur enchantments. She couldn’t do anything about it.

As the flames converged at the tip of the arrow, she released the bowstring. The arrow sketched a trail of brilliant emerald as it soared up the wall, splashing into the churning black mass above. She wasn’t sure if she had hit anything, but the presence above her seemed to withdraw from the edge for a moment. Grateful for the reprieve, she took a moment to take stock.

They were about 30 feet down. When the plaza suddenly began to break apart, the ground beneath her and Jonathan had tilted wildly, tipping until it was almost vertical and sending them both sliding out toward the empty center of the Abyss. Jonathan had managed to get his weapon lodged into the stone paving and caught her by the leg as she tumbled past him. Tagnik was dangling from a now-horizontal cavalry statue further along on a different slab. Yadira and Phos were nowhere to be seen. They had been ahead of the others when things had started to come apart, so perhaps they were still up top. Shanae wasn’t sure if being near that creature was much safer than falling, but it certainly couldn’t be worse. Probably.

Her own situation wasn’t really any better. Jonathan wasn’t going to be able to do much while holding her, and she couldn’t see a way for her to fix that. Their little chunk of wall was devoid of any helpful protrusions her limited climbing skills could latch on to. Tagnik’s statue, on the other hand...

“Hey Scaleface!” she called, tucking her remaining arrows into her belt, “Tie a rope or something to that horse and toss it to me!” She held out her now-free hand, waiting. Tagnik nodded and pulled out a length of rope. While he worked, Shanae started to hear shouts and yowling from above. It sounded like Phos and Yadira had managed to get the creature’s attention. Tagnik tossed her the rope, which she quickly cinched to her belt.

“All set?” Jonathan called down. She nodded, then let out a small gasp as she began to drop. The plaza floor wasn’t quite vertical, so she skittered and spun back and forth along its surface until she managed to get her feet under her. By the time she started climbing, Tagnik and Jonathan were already working their way upwards; Tagnik with his claws, and Jonathan with some sort of climbing spikes.

She hauled at the rope, simultaneously frustrated at her slow speed and frightened at the idea of actually reaching the top. She could hear the dark muttering of the Abyss in her mind, seemingly louder now that one of its beasts was present, and memories of that night in the church rode unbidden in her mind. She felt her throat beginning to close up in panic and fought to keep her mind in the present. Just reach the horse, she thought to herself, don’t worry about what’s up top. Just get to the statue. That’s all we’re doing. It seemed to help, and it wasn’t too long before she hauled herself up onto the statue, her muscles burning. Ha! Let’s see Waterfield’s baroness do that! she thought to herself, panting a bit. But the distraction of the intermediate goal was gone, and her grin faded.

A sharp, wet smell entered her nose, like rain mixed with iron and rotting meat. She reeled away from the wall, breathing hard with recollection. Thin tendrils of oily black fog spun and twisted their way down the wall. The seemed almost alive, moving against the flow of the stone beneath them. One struck the base of her statue and began lazily spiraling along its surface. Just like she’d seen threading below the door and between the windows back in Blackthorne. The panic returned, stronger than before. She felt dizzy and nauseous. Her vision swayed and darkened.

No no no no! she thought, struggling to assert her rational mind. It’s just smoke! It didn’t do anything, I had the candle, it can’t get to me! She was hyperventilating, losing track of where she was. Was she in the church again? Where was the candle?!

She shook herself, straining to focus. She had to get to the top, or else… she wasn’t sure. She couldn’t think clearly – the smell stinging in her nose, everything dancing in her vision. All she knew was that she couldn’t stay here. The smoke…

Nothing happened, I had the candle. Her thoughts tumbled through her head. The hunter said nothing would happen if I had the candle!! She could feel her self-control slipping, hysteria seeping into her thoughts…

“Bring me up!” she yelled, almost shrieking, “I have to get up there!”

“The other rope!” she heard Tagnik growl down at her, his tone harsh and distracted. Shanae looked wildly around, and saw it: a second rope, dangling against the cliff face. Smokey tendrils twisted around it, but it seemed mostly clear. In the end she only had two choices: it was up or down, and the void beneath her held terror enough to get her moving. Half delirious, she fumbled after the rope and started to pull herself upwards with strength born of fear. As she inhaled more of the smoke, she grew more unsure of where she was. Her mind jumped between the present and the past. She was almost there. Her thoughts swam. What was she reaching for? The rope or the candle? Why would she be looking for the candle?

Because the candle has gone out.

No! she thought fiercely. I’m fine! I was fine! I just have to get to the top. They need me! They need me to open the . . . she shook her head. Open what? There was nothing to open here. She looked up, trying not to breath so she could clear her head. She was having a hard time holding onto the rope. It was so thin; she was starting to slide. She looked up. The edge was right there, just an arm’s length away. Clawing at the stone, she reached out and hauled herself over the top, her breathing harsh and ragged. She must have startled Yadira, who had apparently been standing near the precipice; the cat girl jumped violently, whirling towards her and scrabbling away. Why is she here? Shanae wondered. The girl had never seemed much taken with the Norse religion…

The thought wavered, Shanae’s gasps drawing thick coils of the black fog into her lungs. She quickly struggled to her feet, though nearly doubled over from her churning stomach. I have to get to the altar. I need…matches? …no, have to find my friends. Vision dark and swimming, she peered ahead and tried to get a grasp on the situation.

There were plenty of things moving around in the fog out there, but she couldn’t make herself focus. She took a step forward, feeling stone crack and shift beneath her feet. Why is it so dark? She waved her cloak, trying to clear some of the fog. Something small and reptilian darted past her feet, growling and swiping at her. She lurched clumsily out of its way, kicking out ineffectually. The voices were so loud now.

A dark ball of blackness was moving across the ground ahead of her, the size of her torso. Small figures danced on the ground around it. She tried to get past it to find…whatever it was she was looking for, but her swimming vision twisted her balance and she fell heavily to her hands and knees. The small creature was there again, slashing at her wrists and ankles. It was joined by another, this one launching fiery, stinging projectile at her, catching her in the eye.

The candle… she thought, fear overwhelming her thoughts. A ribbon of pain wound its way across her leg. She lashed out, catching the clawed reptile in the chest with a crack and sending it sprawling. I have to light…the candle… She fumbled for matches. She had left them right here, before she checked the door, she only needed one. That would be enough, right? The draft from the door… She moved to shield the burning mass of darkness with her body. Her fingers closed on something thin and wooden. It glowed with green lines, scorching the fog from a hollow space in the back of her mind. Silver Belle . . . she could light the fire, Shanae thought groggily. She fought to focus, to light the candle with the strange match. There was a flare of emerald light, and green fire mixed with the darkness in her mind until there was nothing left. She collapsed to the floor of the church, unconscious.