Chapter 15: A Consuming Darkness

Shielding herself from the chill in the air was becoming a challenge for Sparrow. Her shorts did little to protect her from the wind, Her only pair of long trousers had been rendered useless during a short skirmish with a Hollowman, in which she'd caught on wrapped her arms around herself, and she tread quickly, hoping that the faster that she moved, the warmer she would become.

As they neared the lair of the Shadow Court, she glanced back to Reaver, wondering what his thoughts were. He'd become rather introspective. His mouth had been closed for what seemed like record time. He kept his hand constantly near his hip, his fingers fondling the intricately decorated butt of his pistol from time to time. His cerulean eyes darted about constantly.

Sparrow wondered if it was the place that affected him so much. Perhaps his ties to the shadows intensified the general anxiety Wraithmarsh seemed to stir within people. She observed with a softly discerning expression on her face, but when his eyes met with hers, she immediately found something else to stare at.

It was a stark contrast between the warmth and tenderness they'd shared in their camp the night before. Every moment in his presence felt cold and rigid. She found herself longing for that warmth again-spoiled by the affection she'd received. She couldn't help but hope that it was merely this place that affected him so, not the beginning of the end for their entanglement. She was so enjoying the comfort and passion she found in his arms.

Reaver merely grimaced continually, refusing to make eye contact with her for more than a few sparse moments at a time.

"Are you alright?" she finally dared to ask. Her eyebrows raised, and she slowed her steps to walk in stride with him.

He shrugged, his lip curling with annoyance. He snorted disdainfully, "Alright?"

"So, no?"

His eyes slashed toward her, and his mouth pursed. Anger and darkness seemed to radiate off of him like an aura.

There was a tense silence in the air, but Sparrow conceded, deciding it was better not to poke the hornet's nest. "Fine. If you don't want to talk, we don't have to talk. I'm used to keeping quiet company."

She marched forward once more, frustrated that he'd not only disregarded her concern, but treated it with downright disdain and anger. She didn't have much time to stew in her annoyance before a chill reverberated up her spine. It wasn't due to the cold, but something else. Something sinister.

"Do you feel that?" She murmured, stopping dead in her tracks.

Reaver brushed against her as he strode to her side. A look of sheer annoyance rolled over his features, but he nodded grimly.

Unnatural fog rolled in, and a distant screech immediately announced the presence of a Banshee.

"Bugger," Sparrow muttered. She knew that she and Reaver would likely be able to dispatch it quickly, but she would have preferred if the rest of their journey be uneventful. She drew her katana, swinging it speedily to loosen her muscles, and she looked back to Reaver, who had pulled his Dragonstomper from its holster.

"Hopefully it's just one," she said, with a soft shrug. "I've done one."

Another shrill howl joined the other, and then another-coming from all directions. She couldn't tell how many there were, but it sounded like a lot. It sounded far-off, at first, but they drew closer with every moment, the screams multiplying in number and increasing in volume.

"Shit," she cursed. She wasn't sure if she could handle more than one Banshee at a time. One produced an overwhelming number of shadow creatures, so she couldn't imagine how many more than three could produce. She patted the pouch at her belt, checking for health poultices and Will potions. She had been lucky enough not to use one yet, but she doubted her lucky streak would last much longer.

Reaver's jaw merely clenched, and he readied himself for the coming fight.

The villains appeared faster than Sparrow could process, closing them in a tight circle. She expected to hear the familiar whisper of her greatest fears being brought to life, but all she heard was that wretched shrieking. She didn't hesitate to spring forward in an attack with her katana.

She avoided the swipe of a Banshee's claw, and she drove her blade into the fiend's faceless hood. It was dispatched rather quickly in comparison to her last tangle with the ghost-like creatures.

It wasn't until she was being attacked by all remaining Banshees that she realized she'd not heard one single gunshot. She whipped her head around quickly, fearing that Reaver had abandoned her, but he hadn't.

He had collapsed to his knees in the mud, his face blank of emotion, and his eyes black with darkness. It was as if they'd seized control of him, pacifying him so that they could finish Sparrow off with ease. That caused the wedge of panic in her heart to spread, overtaking her. She was alone in this fight, and she was not confident she would win.

She returned her attention to the fight just in time, throwing up her sword to block the fearsome swipe of a skeletal hand. She sucked in a hasty breath, and she summoned spectral blades to shoot out in every direction, managing to pierce nearly all of them.

Her heart pounded with anxiety as she continued to fight alone. Hollowmen were emerging from the ground, pulling themselves from the mud to close in on her. Those were far easier to dispatch, and she slashed and shot them, destroying their heads or severing them completely from their necks.

The Banshees receded, and their shadow creatures appeared, joining the Hollowmen in the assault on Sparrow. They were relentless and plentiful. She couldn't even count how many of the wretched things she cut down, but she fought valiantly, summoning magic, shooting her pistol, and brandishing her katana with skill.

"Reaver!" Sparrow shouted raggedly, trying to pull him from whatever spell the Banshee's song had him under. She stumbled toward him, deflecting the blow of a Hollowman without even looking. She grasped him by the face, shaking him. "REAVER!"

His eyes were still glassy and unfocused, but his face distorted with fear and panic. He tried to yank away from her touch, pain overtaking his features, and he finally lifted his hands to shove her back ward with exceptional strength.

Sparrow's feet tangled beneath her, and before she could catch herself, she felt a searing pain shoot through her abdomen. Looking down, she saw a shadowy blade protruding from the left side of her belly. She tried to pull in a shaky breath, but she couldn't seem to. As the blade retreated, blood gushed forward.

She was paralyzed with something unexplainable, and she could feel bony fingers grasping her by the ankles, yanking her off balance and causing her to land on her stomach. The air left her lungs in a hoarse cry of pain and panic, and she gasped, finally able to do something other than gape at her bewitched companion.

The wound burned like she'd been set ablaze, and she fought through tears to find use of her voice once more. She tried to call out to Reaver, but it came out as a soft desperate breath, "R-Reaver!"

His eyes cleared, and they met immediately with hers. He seemed to be dazed, not fully able to shake off the effects of his possession.

She felt herself sinking into the mud, drawn down by those sharp hands that had pulled her off of her feet, and she clawed at the ground, trying desperately to keep herself above the surface. It was useless. As much as she writhed and kicked, her strength could not overcome the dark forces set on claiming her.

"REAVER, PLEASE!"

Reaver's eyes finally snapped into total focus, and he assessed the situation, his face colored with horror. He tried to hurry toward her, but the remaining banshees closed in a circle around him, not allowing him to get to her. He fired into them, but his bullets proved to be useless against him. They only grew in size, becoming more fearsome and menacing.

"The wretched creatures won't let me pass!" he yelled around them. "They mean to claim you for The Darkness!"

Sparrow could feel the life draining from her. She ceased her useless clawing, deciding to conserve her energy to focus on breathing. She was down in the mud past the wound that had paralyzed her, and it was getting harder and harder to breathe.

What would happen, now if she perished here? Would Reaver, Hammer, and Garth be able to defeat Lucien without her? The only way Reaver would be able to continue on is if he obtained The Dark Seal. She would have to reveal her hiding place to him if the world had any hope of surviving Lucien's horrible plan.

"Reaver," she sputtered, her eyes widened with worry. "The Dark Seal." She was up to her chest in the mud. It wouldn't be long now. She needed to tell him and tell him quickly. "The Demon Door outside of Bloodstone. You must...you must perform a song to open it."

She could see Reaver through the wall the Banshees had created, and his eyes lit with something almost like victory. He would get what he wanted without Sparrow there to bully him into fulfilling his end of the bargain.

That worried her. If he did not fulfill his destiny, Lucien would overtake the world with the power of The Spire. Though Sparrow would likely not live to see it, she did not want the world destroyed by that madman's wicked will. Her child would live in whatever future Lucien would thrust on Albion. She could not let him go unchecked.

"I'll go," Reaver announced, his eyes purposefully not looking in Sparrow's direction. "I'll leave you to claim her."

"Promise me that you'll rejoin Garth and Hammer!" Sparrow cried, her voice cracking with weakness. She pointed an accusatory finger at him. "Promise me you won't let Lucien win."

Reaver turned without answering, his back straight and stiff as he started to walk away.

"PROMISE ME, YOU BASTARD!" She could feel tears spring from her eyes. These were not tears of sadness, but tears of anger.

He chose not to acknowledge her pleading, and that only amplified her rage. She thrashed once more, trying to fight her way from the muddy tomb that pulled her lower and lower with each passing moment. The burning of her wound spread through her entire body, her blood seemingly poisoned by the blade. She screamed and cursed at Reaver's back, hoping to incite some sort of response.

When he was out of her sight, the fight evaporated from her limbs. She sobbed with frustration, but she willed the tears to stop. Her lips trembled from the cold, and she tried to pull in what precious little air she could manage. She tried to think of her daughter, Rose, in her last moments, apologizing softly that she would not be able to fulfil her promise of returning safely to her.

She tried to fight the disorienting sensation of unconsciousness quickening on her as she sunk neck-deep into the mud. Everything seemed to flicker in and out of darkness. The light inside of her was fading-she felt exhausted to her soul. She sputtered, urgently trying to breathe before the mud overtook her mouth and nose. The earth tasted of decay, and she tried to wriggle every limb of her body. It was useless. She would never leave this place.

Her final breath was shaky and full of sadness. This was not how she imagined she would die. For a few dark moments, she closed her eyes, trying to find peace in the end, to find comfort in that her struggles were coming to an end.

She could no longer see, and her air had gone stale. Her panic was dull and sharp at the same time. She couldn't breathe, couldn't move. All she could do was sink further into the long-dead earth. Her hand that had been raised above her head was the only part of her above the ground's surface, and she felt a cold, blistering breeze sweep across her palm.

Blackness claimed her.

A/N: After a long hiatus, I've come back with a fresh chapter. Finding myself temporarily unemployed during this pandemic, I suddenly have a lot of time on my hands, so I thought maybe I'd take a swing at picking this story back up. I hope that you enjoy this chapter, and another is coming shortly after. Thank you for your support, and I hope to hear back from you.