A/N: this isn't a traditional story with a climax; this is a series of vignettes and loosely connected oneshots. I won't always update on Saturday, like I do with my normal stories (where weekly updates are guaranteed). I won't always explain everything up front...it's more fun that way. Check my Deviant Art account for the occasional art piece based on these chapters.
Dust motes float in the air of the dark, musty attic as you sit with your back to the door. What little light is present in order for them to even enter your vision wafts in through the cracks in the roof; the window to the side, covered in duct tape and paint, provides no view to the outside. Aside from the creepy, battered old doll on the crumbling bookshelf in the corner, there's little to look at.
As you wait, the chains hanging from the ceiling sway back and forth. You can almost hear the rust on the meat hooks at the end crinkle due to the natural scrape of the deteriorating links of iron, yet the holes in the roof aren't wide enough to allow air to blow through the attic. You keep listening for the faintest sound of footsteps coming up the stairs, or the scrape of boots on the dusty floor behind you, but no such creeping intruder approaches. You're left in the rickety chair, wondering just what sort of ghosts are watching you from places unseen.
You don't wait long before the ceiling chains rattle again. This time their movement is obviously controlled by an invisible force, but it hovers down in front of you so slowly that you don't panic. Rather rapidly, the darkness of the attic begins to coalesce in front of you, like a clump of shadow detached from the solid surfaces. It swells and frees itself from the constraints of light and color, finally taking form in front of you.
At the top, a cylindrical head forms, featureless aside from the two red eyes. The sentient patch of shade doesn't waste time.
"They say curiosity killed the cat...but you're not a cat, so I suppose the joke I wanted to make won't work." The shade pauses as if it expects you to reply to its hollow, whispering voice. "Cat got your...nevermind, I'll stop making jokes now. At least you're here."
The sound of a pained groan reaches your alert ears. It sounds like it came from several floors down, as do the sounds of many shuffling feet and a buckle clicking as it locks, but the shade ignores the sound.
"And I think I know why you're here," it tells you as an elongated patch of shadow extends from its body toward you, like an arm and hand wagging a finger. The appendage doesn't dissipate so much as it fades away when it's no longer in use...either that, or your vision is becoming distorted.
From the corner of your eye, you sense movement from the corner of the room. The wrecked bookshelf appears undisturbed, though you're not sure if the creepy doll was making the same facial expression just a few moments ago.
The shade hovers up and then down, almost like a balloon in the hands of an excited child. The red glow of its eyes dim, and with them, the attic somehow grows even darker.
"Let me tell you how the most effective fighting force of the Forsaken army began..."