"Tamla!"
Sheryn's rising panic gave her voice a shrill quality that, under any other circumstances, would have embarrassed her. Right now, though, her mind was fixated on one horrific truth: she'd just witnessed a gruesome murder and now her daughter was nowhere to be found.
She was such a sweet little girl. She'd trust Abe with her life...
Fighting the tears that threatened to blind her, Sheryn thought as fast as she was able. Assuming nobody had taken her - who would do that other than Abe, whom she knew to be up the road? - there were really only two places Tamla would have gone. She'd either have gone ahead to Rand's house, or turned back home for some reason-
-kill. I am the-
-the sight of Thomas' dead eyes flashed through her mind. Then, of its own will, her imagination took that frightening face and transferred it to the staggering figure of Abe Winters.
Light, no.
She set across the road at a run. She held up her lamp, cursing her long skirts as she tripped and stumbled through the darkness. The light in her hand was dying; its oil must have almost run out.
Without slowing, she barrelled through the door, shouting wordlessly as she prepared to fight for her daughter's life.
She wasn't prepared for the darkness and quiet that greeted her.
She stopped and looked around. Her rapid breaths cut sharply into the heavy silence. The minimal light from her lamp showed very little, instead seeming to accentuate the shadows. Every shadow was an enemy that might be hiding a terrifying secret.
"Tamla?" Her voice was a wavering whisper. There came no reply. She approached her daughter's bed, but could see no sign of her.
Slowly, warily, she crept over to Thomas' bed. Her breath caught. He was gone.
She turned and headed for the door at a run. Abruptly, she stopped. There was an indiscernible shape at the door. Desperately, she waved her lantern around, hoping to catch some glimpse of a face in the dying light. "Who's there?"
"Sherry," rasped the figure, staggering through the door.
Sheryn's eyes widened in fear as she backed away from Thomas. "What-"
"Sherry," he said again, his voice almost urgent. His eyes, like dark holes, stared up at her intently. He outstretched a hand, grasping at the air in front of her with rotten fingers.
"Oh, Light," she whispered. Finally, she understood what she was seeing. "Thomas-"
She was cut off by a sudden sound. Thomas threw his head back and clawed at his throat violently, tearing flesh off in large chunks but drawing no blood. She then realised the sound was coming from him: a harsh wail that simultaneously terrified her and made her want to cry for him.
The sound suddenly stopped. Thomas steadied himself. Sheryn froze as stillness descended. He stared at her levelly. She warily stared back, convinced that the slightest movement would set him off. The silence lingered.
Slowly, cautiously, Sheryn shuffled a little to the side, in the hopes of bringing herself closer to the door. He followed her with his eyes, unnerving her. She stopped.
With a keening snarl, he leapt at her.
Sheryn screamed as he landed atop her, toppling her to the ground. Her head hit something hard as she fell, dazing her. She didn't notice the tears that began to well in her eyes.
Thomas adjusted himself quickly, effectively pinning her to the ground. In the brighter light, she could see his disturbingly calm expression. The deadness in his sunken eyes chilled her.
Wait... brighter light?
With surprising rationality, she turned her head to the side and saw the reason why. Her lantern had been knocked from her hand in her fall. The small amount of oil left had been enough to-
Thomas dug his teeth into her cheek. She screamed.
Madly, she struggled against his weight atop her. One arm came free. She flailed out blindly. As the flesh was torn from her face, her forearm connected with something. Somewhere, past the agony clouding her mind, she felt a leg freed. She gave a violent lurch and scrambled to a stand. She staggered heavily against the wall, overcome with dizziness, but her legs kept carrying her. She coughed as she fled the house, finding it hard to breathe. Smoke...
-King. You are mine. I-
Disoriented, she stumbled down the road and toward the bridge. The clothes on her left side were clinging to her. She couldn't remember how they'd gotten wet. She pressed a hand to her skirts and looked at the palm dazedly. It was dark...
Rand. She had to get to Rand's house. She veered to the right.
She'd never hurt so much. The pain - she couldn't focus. As she made her way to the lake, she saw a child lope by. What were they doing out at this hour? She wondered. And then she saw the house.
It was a mess.
Rand's house was no more than a shack at the best of times, but something bad had happened here. A window was smashed and the door was broken off its hinges.
"Tamla," Sheryn croaked as she staggered inside. Her face hurt so much when she moved her jaw. "Tamla."
As she faced the absolute silence, she realised that her body was shaking violently. Her knees were buckling, her hands shaking with the strain of holding herself together. She reached out into the darkness, fumbling as she searched for something with which to defend herself. Her hand closed weakly around a knife. She drew it in, close to her chest as if it were something precious, and fervently prayed this was all some kind of exceedingly vivid nightmare.
Then she saw the bodies, and reality hit home with horrific force.
They lay in the corner, hidden behind an overturned table. They looked heart achingly peaceful, curled up in a tight protective embrace: Rand Rhobart and, in his arms, the tiny bundle that was Tamla. Rand's eyes were open, staring blankly into infinity, while Tamla's were gently closed. Sheryn stared in disbelief for a long while before she knelt down.
She couldn't believe how serene her daughter looked. Gently, she reached down and ran her fingers through her hair, brushing it out of her eyes. And then they were open, looking at her. Sheryn gave a start, falling back on her heels. Tamla scrambled up, wide-eyed, ignoring Rand's dead arm as it fell from her body. She screamed.
"It's okay, honey," Sheryn whispered, and leaned forward to take her daughter into her arms. "I'm here."
To her bewilderment, Tamla struggled free. "No!" she wailed almost incoherently. "No!"
"What... what is it?"
Wordlessly, the girl sobbed and pointed at Sheryn's face. Frowning, Sheryn reached up. She could feel an unusual wetness. Taking her hand away from her cheek, she glanced at it. It was drenched in blood. She could not work out why.
She returned her gaze to her daughter and smiled as well as she was able. "Never mind that. Come on, sweetie. Let's get out of here." She offered her dry hand. She had no clue where they could go, but staying here was not an option.
Tamla shook her head. Her body was still wracking with muffled sobs as she glanced mutely at Rand's body. A second quick study of the body sent a chill down Sheryn's spine. She recognised those dead eyes.
"Honey, we really have to go. Now." There was no longer anything she could do to keep the fear from her voice.
Once again, Tamla shook her head. "Missus Rhobart will hurt him." Suddenly, Sheryn understood what had happened here. The idea of Shelene Rhobart... no. She would not think about it. She shook her head forcefully. Somewhere in the back of her mind, something cried out against the pain, but she scarcely noticed it.
"Shelene will hurt us all if we stay," she said, no longer caring to soften her words. "Please, Tamla. Come on."
With that final desperate plea, Tamla conceded defeat and let herself be wrenched to her feet. Her body felt limp like a ragdoll, but Sheryn steeled herself. Time to worry about fear later. Safety was the most important matter at hand.
As she ran toward the bridge, fairly dragging her daughter along behind her, a strange feeling began to creep into her consciousness. Through the fog of muted agony and terror and desperate anger came a bizarre sense of elation. Associating it with the hope that they might soon be free of this horror, she permitted herself a wide, stiff grin. She clutched Tamla's hand ever tighter until the girl yelped, and began running faster, suddenly gripped by a strange kind of numb energy.
They would be okay. Everything would be all right.
- I am the Lich King.
