Nightworld

Glaeken found the mouth of the lateral passage a hundred or so feet down the western wall. A dozen feet across, it was the only break in the wall of the hole. Glaeken swung inward and landed on his feet. He pulled the weapon free of the back of his belt and started walking. He needed no signpost to tell him that Rasalom lay ahead. He knew.

The light followed, filling the tunnel behind him, stretching his shadow far ahead, sending dark things scuttling and slithering and fluttering out of the way.

He pushed on, not running, but moving swiftly with quick, long strides. The sense of urgency was still at his back, propelling him forward. He swung the blade back and forth, splashing the air ahead of him with bright arcs of light, then waded through them.

But as he progressed deeper and further along the tunnel, he noticed a dimming of the light. He turned and looked back along his path. The light seemed as thick and bright as before back there, but down here it was attenuated, diluted, tainted…

It could only mean he was nearing his goal, the heart of the darkness.

Not much further on, the light loosened its embrace and pulled free of him; it hung back, deserting him, abandoning him to penetrate the beckoning blackness of the tunnel ahead alone.

Glaeken kept moving, slower now, stepping more carefully. Only the blade was glowing now, and that faintly, struggling against the thickening blackness that devoured its light. Soon its light failed too. Glaeken stood in a featureless black limbo, cold, silent, expectant. The darkness was complete. Victorious.

And then, as he knew it would, came the voice, the hated voice, speaking into his mind.

"Welcome, Glaeken. Welcome to a place where your light cannot go. My place. A place of no light. Remind you of anyplace from the past?"

Glaeken refused to reply.

"Keep walking, Glaeken. I won't stop you. There's light of sorts ahead. A different light, a kind I choose to allow here. No tricks, I promise. I want you here. I've been waiting for you. The Change is almost complete. I want you to marvel at my new form. I want you to be the first to see me. I want to be the very last thing you see."

Glaeken felt his palms dampen. He was in Rasalom's country now, where he made all the rules. Tightening his grip on the hilt, he stepped forward into the black.