Marcus' Prey

Chapter Twelve

Hello my children!

I'm back already! Midterm season is passed (now onto finals and term papers and shit lol) so I actually got the chapter done within a reasonable amount of time! Ain't that just something?

NEWS: Based on the votes those of you who follow my profile cast, there will be an extra-special, extra-fun, definitely extra-steamy chapter of LG updated...to celebrate 4K followers! Yay! I'll post it to the end of Lucifer's Gift--and it'll be completely canon, though not necessary to the plot or story. Just some content to make y'all smile and laugh and enjoy some extra time with our old couple ;) That should be out in the next week or so--I'm really looking forward to writing it for y'all. I hope you'll love it!

Anyways, that's all for now! Enjoy the chapter!

E <3

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The sounds were the worst part.

The phantoms drifted past me, their visages tattered and destroyed as if even their souls couldn't bear to hold onto the illusion of their former selves. The rags they wore—the ones they'd been put to rest in—dragged across the craggy, desolate dirt beneath them. Unnaturally black, it matched the dreary atmosphere of the realm. Every bit of light fought desperately and valiantly against the gathering dark, but it did little to subdue it. Bones, not unlike the ones that had melted into the dirt after they'd finished dragging me down here, littered the ground in morbid clusters, stark white against the soil. Every once in a while, the phantoms would stop, pulsing that ugly gray, and stare sadly at a set like they'd known them—or been them.

Then, they would wail, the sound full of anguish and sorrow and grief. For so long they'd shriek, then, abruptly, they'd stop and drift off, as if they no longer had the capacity for such violent emotion.

I almost wished the darkness had stayed. It was far better than the horrors I was faced with now. Had I been a normal twenty-year-old, such a sight may have ruined me utterly. As it was, I hid my terror behind the mask I'd always had at my disposal—except for when I was around my Champion, of course.

But my Champion wasn't here. This was for me to face alone, as I'd done so often before. And I would not collapse. I couldn't afford to. I had something in my life to fight for besides mere, fleeting freedom.

Another shriek pierced the air. But this one was different. Feral. Alive.

I was suddenly conscious of how I stood out. Obviously living, wearing my blush pink sweater and white converse, I was a beacon for whatever terrible things lived in this realm. The phantoms, no matter how eerie, were the least of my worries at the moment. I had to be on guard, and I had to move.

Spurred into action by another, nearer scream, I ran. My pretty shoes pounded the already hard-packed earth as I flew, leaping over a massive pile of bones...which was topped with a skull that only had one enormous eye socket. I shuddered but didn't allow myself to slow. I couldn't allow my fear to win. I still had my daggers, I wasn't defenseless. I didn't want to kill, whether they be monsters or not, but I would. I'd do anything.

Suddenly, I skidded to an abrupt halt, the dark dirt flying up around my feet in a heavy spray. In front of me lay a river; wide, inky black, and utterly, terribly still. I could hear the sounds of rushing water, of rapids flowing over rocks and other obstacles, but the river appeared not to move an inch. It was unnatural, but so was everything else I'd encountered in this mysterious realm.