Chapter Eight: That Impending Sense of Doom...

Talween
Somewhere near the hyperdrive section

A thought that refused to congeal tickled the edge of his consciousness. Something about the Talween and the way it made him feel had struck a chord deep within the Time Lord's soul however he could not determine just what it could be. The impending sense of doom? No, he felt that every time he stepped outside of the TARDIS. The feeling of being watched? No, that was the impending sense of doom again. The overbearing use of white in the Talween's décor? Ah, that must be it. No one used that much white, especially after the fiasco at the 5055 Olympics.

"Doctor?" Rose's voice interrupted his musings, "I was wondering...could it be the Gelth? I mean, everything about this ship reminds me of when we faced them before. The only difference is I have yet to be nicked by an undertaker."

The Doctor's lips quirked into a smile, "Let's hope we continue that trend. I doubt it, though. They couldn't physically manipulate objects without inhabiting a corpse nor were they able to compete in any athletic event. I certainly can't see them knocking over that container and escaping before we saw evidence of their presence."

"True," Rose acknowledged, shivering suddenly as a draft of cold air blew down the hallway. In every movie that she had ever seen, this, she suspected, was the part where they either get separated from one another or something attacks them. She unconsciously moved closer to the comforting form of the Doctor.

The Time Lord caught the shiver and, after only a second's worth of thought, shrugged off his jacket and placed it around her shoulders. "You're cold," he said by way of explanation.

"Something's off about this ship's temperature controls - it was comfortable back by the TARDIS but here I can see my breath. Won't you get cold?" she asked, wrapping the warm jacket around her slender form more firmly. She was willing to admit to herself that the jacket, and the accompanying scent that was purely the Doctor, was just as comforting as his presence.

"Me? Nah, the wonders of a bi-vascular system," the Doctor replied, suppressing a reflexive shiver. "I'm comfortable."

She looked at him suspiciously, but shrugged. Rose had no intention, really, of giving up the dark leather jacket anytime soon. "How much further do you think?"

The Doctor was about to reply but before he could speak panels of lights began to wink out down the corridor, moving in a steady progression towards them. Inky blackness lurked beyond the last pool of light, and it grew darker if it was possible with each light it consumed. It was as if the dark were a living thing, consuming the light as it grew ever closer to them.

"Doctor..." Rose said in a hushed tone. Fear strained her voice, and her instincts screamed at her to run. Danger lurked in that darkness, she could feel it with every beat of her heart. If they stayed, they would die. It was more than a conviction to her fear-struck mind; it was a fact.

"RUN!" The Doctor commanded, using their joined hands to pull her down the corridor. Their feet were lent the wings of fear, urged onward by each panel of light that succumbed to the darkness behind them. He pulled her through a doorway and hit a panel, causing the door to woosh shut behind them.

In the brilliant light of the new room, her earlier fear seemed childish and weak. She began to laugh, but it was not a laugh of joy, but a laugh brought about by fear that had affected her far too deeply to merely be dismissed by light. It was a laugh of hysterics, "I...can't...believe...we...were afraid...of...the dark!" she gasped between laughs, but her laughter refused to stop.

The Doctor grabbed her arms and shook her gently, "Rose, listen to me. I felt it too. There was something out there. What it was, I'm not sure..."

He was speaking but it seemed as if she was no longer listening to him. Instead, her soulful brown eyes stared in abject horror at a point beyond his shoulder. The hairs at the nape of his neck rose as he slowly turned around. Behind him, on another white wall, a message was scrawled in the same child-like hand: 'Soul Eater.'

"That's impossible," he breathed, suddenly recognizing the thought that had been nagging him since they had arrived on the Talween.

"I saw it being written, Doctor. There was nothing there, and then...the words just appeared like someone was writing them. What's going on? What's a 'Soul Eater'?" Rose's voice broke, her earlier laughter turned to fear.

He uttered the three words that he knew she never expected to hear from him, "I don't know. There are stories from my people, stories of an ancient evil known as the Soul Eater. It was was born sometime in the beginning of the universe. At first this evil thing was not evil as we know it, but something spurred it to hate all of creation and it chose to do all that it could to destroy what had been created. It picked on any form of intelligence, and used their life force to survive and grow stronger. As in most of Gallifreyan myths, especially where Rassilon was concerned, Rassilon fought the Soul Eater. After a horrific battle, the Soul Eater was banished from Gallifrey. However, in constant defiance of Rassilon and the Time Lords, the Soul Eater will come back every millennium to feed."

"Do you think it's real?"

"Whenever Rassilon is concerned, everything needs to be taken with a grain of salt. However, I suspect that there is more to the story than just Rassilon trying to increase his popularity," the Doctor admitted reluctantly.

"If it's real, how can we defeat it?"

"If the story's to be believed we have to destroy this ship. However, we can't do that without finding the gwaila crystals."

Rose tried and failed to suppress the shudder that ran through her slender form at his words, "But we're probably going to end up facing it..."

"Then face it we will," the Doctor said grimly, "And then we'll destroy it."