The sudden onset of darkness within the hut was startling, yet a force reached out within her, imploring, begging her to open the door. The lights of heaven flooded through the darkness behind the crevices of the exit, and the room drew closer, her hands and legs aching to draw closer. She turned, string into the void of nothingness that stretched around her infinitely, swirling like leaves in the wind. A reluctant step was taken, her combat boot firmly implanting in the ground with shocking power. A crack was made in the glossy translucent ground, shattering like a spider’s web. Another, and another, despite her great effort to stop the slow approach of the exit from the realm. Despite how it appeared, a sinister feeling crept out from underneath it, mist of gray layering the non-existent ground, hands forming in it to grasp her legs and drag her within to the pits of Hell. She stood outside the door, hand creeping toward it, fair complexion mixing with the black knob thinly lined with charcoal and soot. It trembled as every fiber as her being told her not to touch it, not even with a grain of her hand; that whatever lurked within was surely worse than a life relegated to boredom and loneliness in an expanse devoid of anything. Yet, as a single finger was laid on the large and brooding exit - or rather, entrance - it flew open, a gust of wind flinging her over the border of the exit. But rather than a rough fall onto whatever she had perceived to be behind the door, a pit laid, and it stretched far down. Roots and odd foliage peeked from the raw soil, too wet and malleable to be used as a ledge. She desperately tried so, but the ground crumbled in her firm grip as she desperately attempted to dig her hands within it. Her golden locks of flowing, long hair broke out of its braid and flowed up with the rushing wind below, as she lost cognitive function and closed her eyes. Death was imminent, as the soil condensed and hardened, a stony grave rushing up with haste. A tear flew upwards as it was released from the corner of her eye. And yet, nothing happened, there was no impact, no feeling, and she was in a court of marble and stone. Long columns supported a lopsided roof, loosely held together by the pillars, and an audience sat there in watch. They are composed of spirits, incorporeal bodies only outlined by deeply contrasting shadow. Silhouettes who watched silently, without tongue, ear or eye, firmly implanted on cold granite benches. Luana stared at the strange scene, only now understanding that she wasn’t dead, pinching herself slightly to test the pain that would be received. But much worse pain coursed through her body seconds later, bringing her to knees and arms outstretched behind her, paralyzed in that form as shooting pain engulfed her spine. A large shadow, similar to that of the watchers in the large crowd rose from the side of the court, from the infinite void of ebbing darkness and vanquished souls screaming in pain. He was muscular, blue flame rising slightly from his body, candle wicks jutting loosely from skin and surrounded by dried blood. It towered above Luana by hundreds of feet, staring down on her and baring a smile that radiated pure white light. It shined in her eyes, beginning to singe her skin and make her eyes crawl with agonizing fire. It had eyes that burned infernally, red like flowing blood, tortured departed desperately trying to escape from them. And He took her gingerly in His hand, the fingers tightly constricting around her and snapping ribs. Yet she felt numb all over, immune to the effects of the pain; there was even pleasure when He nearly crushed her torso. [i]“A fragile human, malleable and frail. Breakable. Yet, you test the likes of gods, or you will. We are aligned in mutual mortality, our steels slaying each other in the end, and I do not test the power of prophetic force. Even when I am destined to be slain by such as insolent mortal being.” [/i]He said with a low, grumbling voice, granular and tried, like that of a harrowed elderly man. She stared into his eyes, deeply enthralled in them. As His face neared Luana’s, she could see the faces within them. Her mother. Her family. Sariel. She, covered in blood, her steel sword hovering to her face as she muttered and stabbed with disgusting sounds of blades piercing flesh. Yet she could not pull her eyes from His. [i]“You may not know me, but I am among the plethora of ancient gods who safekeep your worlds and weave the very ebb and flow of time itself. They call me The Shade, for my form, only outlined among stark black. I do not usually dabble in affairs with such weak creatures, but you are a tier among your race. A harbinger of power, a clairvoyant who may decide the future of your kin. And for such, I am interested in what you all have to say.” “I grant you my Mark, the eye that forever burns within you, a painful reminder of this moment seperate from time and space. A reminder that I watch over you and toy with your life. It would not be fun to simply kill you, squashed like a bug under my thumb. That is the last measure I will employ. First, I watch you suffer. Now? Shoo.”[/i] The Mark seared with pure energy, a roar of green flame arising from her shoulder, the Shade’s Eye branded on it as the skin before it roasted under intense pressure. The pain of her broken ribs returned, flaring and encasing Luana in pure agony. And with that, The Shade unclasped His hand, allowing Luana to fall once again, plummeting down to the court’s marble floor. And as soon as impact came, nothing was felt. Other than a return to the hut where she sat criss-cross on thatch, legs itching painfully. She rubbed her side, wounds healed, and her shoulder, where her Mark sat. In that moment, she could feel Him staring down upon her, laughing before slinking back into the void.