Carter shuddered awake, lungs afire. He gasped for air, pulling himself from the brazier's purple glow into the hazy light of dawn.
It was just a dream, Them messing with his mind before he could find Charlie.
Not real, it couldn't be real.
But then…Why was it that when the magician rubbed his left wrist, he could still feel a slight chill and a ghostly ache? Could They do that? Or had he somehow knocked his arm on a rock while he was sleeping? Was that even possible?
Damn.
Carter's head swum and the world flickered along with it. Shadows groped at the edge of his vision, reaching for his consciousness like a beacon in the night. He was going mad. That was the only rational explanation for this.
He'd been out in the wilderness too long- it could happen you know; he'd met miners who had friends who had cousins who'd stayed out in the desert for hours and the sun had gotten into their head, made them eat rocks and sleep on cacti, do lots of strange things. It could happen.
The magician took a deep shuddering breath.
It could happen. But it wouldn't.
At least not until he found Charlie.
He blinked a few times until the shadows at the edge of his vision became, at the very least, tolerable, adjusted his lapel and faced the ruins. Buildings. Roads. They still existed, even here, even if they looked like someone had taken a nasty-looking cudgel to them. And at the moment, the Amazing Maxwell was still part of it.
Carter took a breath, then began to walk.
Best make sure things stay that way.
The hours passed slowly as the magician supposed they would considering there were no shows to perform and he was slowly starving to death. The only fortunate thing he had to report was that, the more he walked, the more the shadows did eventually fade from his vision. Now They were but mere flickers, darting away the moment he dared to take a closer look.
Yes. You'd better run. Carter thought darkly.
In truth, he could probably do nothing if They all decided to swarm him at once. Or if even three or four decided that they were getting tired of his dirty looks. But the thought that he still had some ounce of power against this strange world was comforting to say the very least.
The magician walked on.
By now he had reached the base of the ruins-bricked in gateways and large stone walls smeared with what appeared to be faded murals and hastily-drawn runes. He could recognize a few from the pages of the Codex Umbra- tenebris, devictionibus, interitus- but the rest remained a mystery. If Carter had the time and a workable pen, he might have taken a few moments to sketch some of them. But as it was, his time was better spent trying to find a way into the ruins.
"Hello? Is anyone home?"
Technically speaking, the magician wasn't particularly sure his voice could even reach inside the ruins. Not when every opening was blocked in with a tarnished rubble resembling the golden pebbles that lined his pockets. When even the smallest cracks were plugged up, like holes in a levy, impossible to peek through.
Carter sighed.
This was a horrible idea.
But it was getting dark and the other options remaining were markedly few.
He tried again. "My name is Will-Maxwell Carter. I'm lost and happen to be looking for a companion of mine? Have you seen her?"
No response.
"She's about yay-high-" he held a hand to the place at his shoulders Charlie had always leaned into when tired "- and has gorgeous hair. It smells like roasted ginger and curls a bit when it's about to rain."
He paused. "That's not really, helpful is it?"
The utter silence of the ruins appeared to confirm his answer. Either that or no one was actually listening. The magician sank to the ground with a heavy gust of breath.
"I think I'm just going to spend the night here if you don't mind. I can't see the tip of my nose and it's probably better for all of us if I don't traipse around in the dark." he shrugged. "Might wreck something, you know. More than it's already…been wrecked."
Talking to air...Carter sighed. He really was going mad.
But as the darkness around him became complete, a faint rustling could be heard. His head jolted to the side, toward the source. More rustling.
"Hello?"
And then...the faint smell of ginger.
"Charlie!" The magician cried, "Charlie it's me, Maxwell! I'm right over here. Listen- I'll keep talking until you find me, okay?"
There was a faint hiss and he could feel the scrape of something sharp against his ankle, hard enough to draw blood. The pleasant scent of his lost companion was now tainted by a cold metallic reek.
"...Charlie?"
The last night's dream echoed in his head and Carter began to shake violently. That wasn't real. This was his best friend, not some kind of shadow demon. Maybe she just had mistook him for one of Them-after all, who knew what she'd gone through since she'd arrived here? She could have been stalked by shadows just the same as him. The magician tried again.
"Charlie, please, it's me. Look, I'll prove it. You wore a turquoise dress on our first date and joked about meeting Queen Titania. Later that night I quoted Shakespeare to you but you didn't hear it even though I wish you did now-ack!"
The nails- claws- whatever they were- raked across his shoulder, peeling apart flesh like the skin of an orange. In the darkness, Carter thought he could see a flash of pointed teeth and drew back. Not real.
Whoever they were, his attacker loomed closer. Now the magician could just begin to see the curve of a face, illuminated by the pale shine of twin fires, each set deep within an indigo socket. Small, sharp nose. A crescent grin- so familiar yet so wrong as it was now. Eyebrows tilted downward in a triumphant expression that he had seen so many times before.
"No...Charlie."
And just, like the dream, she lunged.
