I'd like to take a moment to thank everyone who has been keeping up with this story despite all the delays. I greatly appreciate all the patience and support. Now, I present you with the conclusion to the trials of Adventure Mode. Stay tuned, as the final chapter of Long Live the King will be coming soon.
Disclaimer: I don't own Don't Starve or any of the characters
Eventually. Inevitably. The four weary survivors found themselves once again looking towards the glasslike surface of the liquid darkness. For the better part of two hours they'd looked for another way, only to be denied their salvation at every turn. The area they'd found themselves in a small alcove carved into the hillside. On every edge, the soil was far too loose and unsteady for them to even attempt climbing back up. The one and only way forwards, and the one that none of them wanted to take, was across the unsteady bridge and into the unknown.
Wendy supposed that they could technically try swimming, but even she had to admit that idea sounded suicidal beyond belief. She didn't have to know what lurked beneath the surface of those chillingly smooth waters to know that it wasn't pleasant.
It was with great reluctance that the group slowly approached the wooden construct. As if they needed any further encouragement, the divining rod once again started acting up as they drew closer. None of them spoke. The only sound that could be heard was the crunching of the loose dirt underfoot and the decidedly unfitting droning of their mechanical guide.
Perhaps not the most dramatic approach to a clearly dangerous crossing, but at this point the young girl was far beyond worrying over trivialities like that. If she lived long enough to tell this story to others, she'd just have to take artistic license with it and work the dramatic parts.
"Hey guys?" Willow spoke up, drawing their attention. The fire starter wore a pained expression as she held one hand to the side of her head. "Would you mind lighting up one of those torches for a while? Keeping the light going is really starting to take it out of me."
With a quick nod, Wilson slung his pack off his shoulders and fished out one of the premade torches they'd thrown together before setting out. Back when they'd still been working on building a campsite with the help of the pigs in their first world, the art of torch-making had consisted of rolling together carefully measured bundles of tinder and sticks in order to let the flame burn steadily for a long period of time without scorching the person holding it. These ones were far less elegant. Little more than glorified clumps of plant matter, they likely wouldn't last even a third as long as the properly prepared tools they'd used to use. They would however, provide light, and that was what mattered at the moment.
With a grateful gesture, Willow touched the tip of her staff to the torch the scientist held out to her. There were several sputters and a small plume of smoke as the somewhat damp kindling made contact with the fiery gem, but soon enough it caught light and sprung to life in the form of a crackling flame.
A sigh of relief left the fire starter's mouth as she extinguished the light from her mystical weapon.
As soon as the illumination provided by the torch took over, the atmosphere of the small beachfront took a decidedly ominous turn. The skeletons and still waters, which had already been thoroughly unnerving, now looked nothing short of dreadful. Tiny shadows danced in between broken ribs and empty eye sockets. Crackling embers flickered across bleached bones partially buried underneath unshifting soil. The empty weight of the lake became a shifting miasma of total nothingness.
With a simple change in their source of light, things had gone from dark to downright evil looking.
Wendy was the first to step forwards. The action was as much for her benefit as it was to get the others moving. Though she was largely unmoved by normally terrifying sights, the sheer feeling of wrongness exuded by this place threatened to halt her steps if she let them. Right now, lack of action could prove just as dangerous as rushing forwards.
Wilson made a noise of protest as she took her first unsteady steps onto the bridge, but she only spared him a quick glance before continuing. He and the others seemed to have gotten the message. With Willow at the back, gently coaxing a very hesitant Wolfgang forwards, they were following her example and taking tentative steps onto the platform. The bridge was far too thin for them to walk side by side, so they were forced to move across in a line.
Wendy allowed them to catch up a bit more so that she was no longer standing on the edge of where the torch's light met the darkness. Once she could see where she was going, she ventured further away from the safety of the shore and into the unknown. Each step was slow and methodical, testing the rotting wood before putting her full weight onto it. Her eyes were cast down with total concentration as she scanned the way forwards for signs of damage or obstructions. She didn't want to know what would happen should she trip over something she missed.
It was rough at first. The oppressive weight of their surroundings kept the four on edge as surely as if they had a hundred jagged arrows being pointed at them. Every little bit of progress only served to lengthen their trip into the dark until they could no longer see the shore they'd originated from. Now their entire world consisted of the bridge, the water, and themselves all contained within a woefully small circle of light provided by their torch.
After they got into the rhythm of moving single file, it got slightly easier. One foot in front of the other. Sweep left to right with your eyes and back left again. Don't worry about where you're going or where you've been. Just focus on the next few steps. Once those have been taken, look onto the next.
Where it not for the constant ambient noise made by their torch, and the slightly less ambient noise of the divining rod, they'd have been progressing in total silence. Something about the place simply killed any form of conversation before it started.
It wasn't until Wilson called for a momentary halt that Wendy realized how much progress they'd made.
"Hold on a second." He warned, his voice coming as a startling disruption to the formerly steady quiet. "This torch is almost burned out. I'm going to light a new one, so don't get too far away."
For Wendy, it was as though she'd woken from a sudden haze. She hadn't been paying the slightest attention to how long they'd been walking for, so the sudden frame of reference gave her pause. If her assumptions about the longevity of their torches were right, that would mean it'd been around half an hour since that first one had been ignited. Half an hour of moving across the bleak lifeless waters with no sign of the other side.
Not a very heartening sign it had to be said.
As the scientist handed the mostly depleted torch over to Wolfgang and fished out a new one, Wendy turned her attention to the waters on her left. Smooth as glass, black as oil, the inky substance drew her forwards until she was standing at the edge of the wooden platform. Peering into its inscrutable depths, she could just barely make out her reflection across the surface.
As she looked, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. Not by someone or something hiding in the dark, but rather by the shadows themselves. This place was smothered in dark energies. She could feel them flitting and floating at the edges of her consciousness, brushing against her whenever she brought herself into focus. Nowhere was this feeling stronger than in the placid lake surrounding them. The murky substance was filled to the brim with it.
For a single fleeting moment, Wendy was struck with the forceful desire to tip forwards. To leap from her perch and dive into the liquid darkness. Though she was no longer the hollow girl she used to be, morbidly apathetic to her own survival, the desire to fall into those endless waters was almost irresistible.
With a shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature of the air, she firmly latched one hand onto one of the support poles jutting out from the bridge. Though it had no handrails to speak of, there were pillars of wood holding it up at semi-regular intervals. Once her position was secured, she turned to look down once again.
"Got it!" Wilson called, momentarily distracting her from her observations. "Wolfgang, tip that old torch this way so I can light the new one off of it. Yeah, like that."
As the used up bundle of tinder met the fresh one, a new wave of light burst into existence and drove back the encroaching night. The sudden increase in lighting momentarily blinded the blonde girl, having been used to the slowly fading light of their old one, causing her to close her eyes reflexively. She was careful to avoid accidentally stepping backwards. To do so on such precarious footing would more than likely end in disaster.
"Oh, sorry Wendy. I should have given some more warning." Wilson apologized, seeing her reaction. "Hope I didn't get you too bad."
The girl murmured a half-verbalized assurance, still feeling the silencing effects of the atmosphere around them. Blinking several times to clear her blurry vision, she rubbed her eyes absentmindedly and turned back to take a quick glance at the spot she'd been watching a moment ago. The gesture was more automatic than conscious. She didn't really expect to see anything.
Which made it all the more shocking when she discovered a sight she'd missed previously.
The newborn light was far stronger than the dying embers had been, and managed to reach into the dense liquid farther. Its illumination revealed something that turned her blood to ice.
Rotted fingers reaching up towards a salvation they would never find, mouth forever open in a silent scream, empty eyes looking towards the surface they'd never see again, a skeleton hung submerged beneath her.
The torch only reached down to the unfortunate individual's midsection, so she was unable to see what held them under. For several long seconds, she was unable to do anything other than stare in total silence. Breathless moments ticked by as her eyes remained glued to the scene. It felt like an eternity, but it couldn't have been more than half a minute before something terrible broke the standoff.
The skull turned to look at her.
It was a smooth, slow gesture. Calm and collected as any living person would have made. One instant, the empty sockets that had held its eyes were gazing skywards, the next they turned to meet her own. It was in that moment Wendy knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that their lives would end if they stayed here even an instant longer.
"Run."
The word had left her mouth before she even had time to process it. The others paused in confusion, her neutral tone conflicting with the dire nature of her order.
"I said RUN!"
That got their attention, causing the other three to jump. The amount of concern in her voice was enough make them realize that their young companion had spotted something sinister. Before any of them could question or follow her command, a light scratching noise emanated from behind them, drawing their eyes.
Even as Wendy's stomach dropped into a cold void beneath her, she spotted something out of her worst nightmares. Slowly snaking out of the water, a single skeletal hand was reaching up to grab the edge of the bridge. Its fleshless fingers dug into the soft wood, causing the very noise that had drawn their attention.
It wasn't long before it found purchase.
Grabbing a hold of the platform, the old bones began hoisting themselves upwards. Sludgy water ran down its form in rivulets, ever so slowly releasing its grip on the emerging form. A pale white crown broke the surface and was soon followed by a cracked brow. All too soon, the murky liquid gave way to a bleached skull, miniature waterfalls cascading down from between its broken teeth.
"RUN NOW!"
No one stopped to argue with Wendy's frantic command this time. The group tore their eyes from the macabre sight and began fleeing in the only other direction available to them. The wavering torchlight sputtered and spat as it was shaken about in their dash, its dancing rays punctuating each creak made by the bridge underfoot.
Wendy could hardly hear any of it. Her pounding heartbeat roared in her ears, blocking out such unimportant background noise. On some instinctive level she knew exactly what was coming next, and she wanted to be very far away from here when it did.
A desperate wail from Wolfgang confirmed the dread that had taken a hold of her was well founded.
All around them on either side of the bridge, skeletal limbs broke the surface and drew closer to the fleeing survivors. Countless deceased rose from the depths and steadily made for the one spot of dry land. Some were rotting and fetid, bloated skin and muscles ripping under their movements. Others were wasted away entirely, nothing more than empty bones defying reason as they moved without tendons or connections to guide them.
All moved towards them in unison.
The submerged hoard of the unliving masses was nothing like Wendy had imagined such a gathering would be. In every story she'd heard, the risen were supposed to be slow and uncoordinated, moving at a clumsy pace while moaning and groaning as they went. These creatures were the exact opposite.
They moved in total silence, gliding through the water with all the grace of sea serpents. They acted as one, pursuing their prey in total unison. Not a single skeleton bumped into any of its companions. Every movement was totally focused towards the goal of catching their fleeing targets.
The young girl didn't need to be an expert on the undead to know that facing this many would end very badly for them. It didn't look like they would have a choice however. Though the divining rod was now blaring out its call with the intensity of a foghorn, there was no end to the bridge in sight. The drowned corpses would be upon them long before they reached their goal.
As she ran, her feet pounding against the wooden planks, her breath coming out in labored gasps, she flipped open her book of spells. Even in the sinister half-light provided by the torch that Wilson held, the letters on the pages burned with a luminescence all their own. They shone in the darkness and all but leapt to the forefront of her mind. Even after having spent so much time reading through the scrawled penmanship, she still could only comprehend a small fraction of what was actually written. Fortunately, that small fraction included several spells which would prove very useful in a situation just such as this.
Breathlessly, Wendy began to read from the book, words pouring from her mouth even as the undead began dragging their forms from the waters below. She felt the buildup of occult energy in her mind. The pressure in her head continued to rise until it felt as though her skull were going to split open. Just as the psychic turmoil reached a fever pitch, she spoke the final words of the incantation and let it loose upon the world.
Night turned to day as brilliant flashes of lightning streaked across the sky. In a dazzling array of light and sound, dozens of bolts rained down into the waiting lake as though thrown from the hands of Zeus himself. The raging electricity exploded into the waters, flash evaporating all they touched and sending cascades of stormy currents racing across the surface. Any man who was in the water would have been killed instantly by the terrible forces at play. Even if by some miracle they managed to survive the electrical deluge, the sheer voltage ravaging their bodies would have crippled them with waves of the purest agony and total loss of muscle control. It was a hellish killing field from which nothing could hope to escape.
The dead didn't seem to notice.
Even as the heavens threw down devastation into their midst, the approaching hoards neither slowed nor stopped their advance. Their bodies shrugged off the electrical storm as easily as an elephant would a swarm of gnats. Other than the few that were outright vaporized by direct hits from the lightning, they showed no indication that their efforts were hindered in the slightest.
It was only with an inhuman amount of self-control that Wendy kept herself from slipping into panic when she saw how little her fist attack accomplished. Her eyes darted down to the book of spells once more, but before she could begin another incantation, a warning shout from Wilson broke her concentration.
"Up ahead! Look out!"
Her gaze shot upwards, instantly spotting the cause of his concern. By now, the nearest of the undead had managed to clamber their way onto the bridge. Some of them, in a disturbing display of foresight, and actually moved to the further sections and set themselves up to cut off the fleeing group even as the bulk of the unburied hoard gained ground behind them.
Wendy's pace slowed and she felt Wilson race past her. The scientist nimbly stepped across the very edge of the platform in order to slip by, narrowly avoiding toppling into the now roiling waters with his precarious maneuver. A surge of alarm raced through Wendy's mind as soon as she saw the knife in his hand.
It was painfully obvious what he intended to do. He planned to clear the path ahead by using the sword stored within the gem in his blade. Its shadowy edge had made short work of all opposition up to this point, and he was about to use it once more.
Wendy couldn't pretend to know what presence inhabited his weapon. She only knew that it was dark, old, and far more cunning than it had any right to be. She didn't know its name, what it was, or what it wanted with them. She did know one thing about it however.
She knew with undeniable, absolute certainty, that if Wilson called on it now they were all going to die.
There was no sudden epiphany. No blaze of realization that sparked the knowledge. She couldn't have said how she knew, only that she did. It was an instinct that surged into her awareness just as the instinct of being watched would prick the minds of a paranoid victim.
There was no time to shout a warning to him. No time to make him see reason. The only thing she could hope to do was remove the thing that was pushing him to unleash his weapon.
Wendy's thoughts sped up one thousand fold in that instant. Even though they moved too fast for her to consciously be aware of each one, they fulfilled their purposes. She gauged an estimate on the depths of the waters surrounding them and found it to be far too deep to make use of the tentacle spell. The lighting storm had already proven to be less than helpful, and trying to force it to target those risen corpses standing on the bridge would likely do more harm than good. There were no singular spells she knew that could accomplish this task.
So she'd just have to make her own.
Without any direct awareness of what she was doing, Wendy began reciting the words for one of the less useful spells she'd learned. This one had been designed to attract birds, but had proven far too one dimensional for her to benefit from. She'd tried using it to trap food, but none of the birds had been trusting or complacent enough for her to get close. She'd tried using it to gather supplies, but the birds didn't respond to her commands. All it really did was lure them to one spot.
Or at least, that's how it was supposed to work.
Unbeknownst to the young girl, she was taking a dangerous step in her self-taught education of magical manipulation. With the mental fortitude of one many years her senior, and no small amount of luck, she opened herself up to the magic and allowed it to flow through her rather than around her. As the words blazed across her mind, they began to twist and sharpen, becoming something far more sinister than they had originally been. The spell warped in on itself as it drank in the essence of her dark nature.
As the magic stormed from her body, Wendy became suddenly aware that this was far different form her earlier incantations. She felt it pulling and ripping at her insides, rending her form wherever it touched. She opened her mouth to scream, but the only noise she could make was a strangled gasp as it poured from her. Something deep inside her being, something precious and irreplaceable, was torn away as the new spell took shape and ushered its birth into the world with a maelstrom of razor wind.
Wilson was toppled to the ground before he could activate his knife as a rush of feathered bodies descended upon the bridge. His shocked cry was drowned out in a cacophonous storm of caws and wing beats. The night came alive and fell upon the undead as the whirlwind of midnight black figures attacked. Ravens the size of dogs appeared from nowhere, tearing into those creatures barring the path forwards with vicious abandon. Beaks and talons, sharp as steel, splintered bone and shredded rotten flesh with every strike.
The undead were far from beaten. Their fleshless bodies, free from fear and hesitation, lashed out at the unnatural flock with merciless precision. Skeletal hands tore birds from the sky and dashed them against the wooden supports, or crushed their frail bones in an iron grip. For every risen corpse that was torn apart, another three were quick to rise from the watery depths to take their place. It was painfully apparent that even this newly crafted spell was only serving to buy time.
Wendy however, was far from finished.
Reeling from the effects of her exertions, mind fogged over entirely and body hardly standing, she gave the final two words that she knew would tip the balance. The words ground against her throat, but she forced them into existence just as she'd forced her spell craft.
"Wolfgang! Charge!"
The strongman had been petrified in blind horror. All around him, terrifying creatures straight from the darkest depths of the nightmare world had come to haunt him. His mind had frozen when the corpses began their pursuit. His very soul had quaked when the skeletons had utterly ignored the storm of lightning. His body had all but shut down in total panic when they had moved to block the group in.
It was too much for him. Too much to take in. Too much to endure. The sheer amount of fear he felt from just looking upon the encroaching monsters stole every scrap of his impressive strength away from him. He couldn't do this! He couldn't do this! He just couldn't-
"Wolfgang!"
-do this! There was nothing he could hope to accomplish against such a terrifying opponent. He had to run but there was nowhere to go. He had to hide but there was no place to take shelter. He had to-
"Charge!"
Through the miasma of panic that had taken a hold of him, the strongman registered those words. Equal parts commanding and pleading, spoken in a last desperate attempt to save them. Wendy's voice rung out loud enough to be heard over the din of combat, filled with the pained tones of one who was grasping to a single lifeline in a storm of chaos.
It was that hint of finality, that unspoken plea, which pierced through the shroud that had descended on Wolfgang. His friends were in danger. Those creatures were trying to hurt them. In that moment, an invisible line had been crossed. One that had spelled the doom of countless people over the centuries.
As any great tyrant could tell you, it is far better to be feared than loved. A sovereign who is feared inspires absolute obedience both from those who approve of them and those who do not. They are not expected to be fair or just, merely to be obeyed. That fear alone is enough to end rebellions before they begin and keep even the most anarchical individuals subdued.
However, those same tyrants would tell you that maintaining that fear is a very delicate balance. Because fear can easily be turned to anger, and no amount of power can protect you from that. Throughout history, anger has spelled the end for any who was foolish or unfortunate enough to rouse it. It toppled the mightiest of kings, crushed the strongest of armies, and ground the most glorious of empires into dust.
Though it came in many forms, there was no anger more potent than that which sprung from the desire to protect. The desire to save. The righteous anger that came from one whose home, friends, and family were threatened. That was the anger that drove mortal men to strike down devils and god.
That was exactly the sensation that exploded in Wolfgang's chest as Wendy's words reached his ears.
The fear did not vanish. Nor did it diminish. Instead, it was drowned out by the lion's roar of his desire to protect those he cared about. It took a hold of every muscle and drove him into the fray. He would not falter. He would not fail.
With a wordless cry against the endless darkness that surrounded them, Wolfgang raised his club and charged forwards.
He charged past Willow, the fire starter, who was struggling to concentrate enough to make use of her staff, jumping in shock as the wall of muscle blazed across her field of vision.
He charged past Wendy, the young girl slumping in place as the last of her energy left her.
He charged over Wilson, the scientist dropping once more to the ground from his half-righted position to avoid being trampled underfoot.
He charged towards the teeming mass of feathers and bones. Towards the very thing that made his heart quake in dread. Seeming to sense his intentions, the ravens directly in his path abandoned their conflicts and fled to the air. The skeletons they had been assaulting had only a split second to register the sudden change.
Then Wolfgang was among them.
The first of the walking bones was dispatched before it had any hope of stopping him. His massive club smashed into its ribcage in the exact moment that its avian opposition vanished. Despite the horrendous weight behind the blow, the undead creature didn't explode into a cloud of bone shards as he'd expected. The dark forces holding it together were too strong for that. It did however, fly as though it had been strapped to a rocket. The risen corpse hurtled into the wall of shadows outside their little island of light, disappearing with only the splash of its body hitting the water to assure them that it even still existed.
Wolfgang paid it no heed. Even as it was thrown aside, he was already moving to the next.
The second was somewhat more prepared for him. It had a split second to register the disappearance of its companion and realized that a new threat had emerged. As the strongman raised his club for a downwards swing, the skeleton raised its own arms to block his attack.
Apparently nobody had told Wolfgang he was supposed to be blocked.
His weapon smashed into the rotted limbs, snapping them inwards with revolting crack. The weighty tool crashed down on the creature's skull, having lost only a small part of its momentum in passing through its arms. The weathered crown of bone collapsed like an eggshell under the attack. Though the blow was not enough to destroy the creature, the planks beneath its feet were not so fortunate. The old wood splintered as soon as the massive kinetic force plowed into it, crashing into the lake and taking its undead occupant with it.
Wolfgang leapt over the newly made hole without a moment's hesitation.
As he weighed into the monsters, his companions took the opportunity to form up and follow behind his rampage. Wilson was forced to carry Wendy, who could no longer stand. Willow lit up the area in a sudden burst of light as she forced her staff to activate. The torch they'd been using was all but lost, and to pause now in order to light another would be a fatal mistake. Though her face was contorted in discomfort, she kept the gem-tipped rod blazing without complaint.
The birds adapted as well. It was impossible to know if they were being directed by their diminutive mistress, or if they were simply intelligent enough to modify their strategy, but they acted with a keen insight as the strongman fought against the undead hoards. Two groups formed from the main flock. One split off to harry and slow the encroaching undead that were coming in from behind, while the other harassed those that stood in front of them, keeping them from gathering in enough numbers to overwhelm the strongman with sheer numbers.
As more and more of the bone walkers either fell apart under the barrage of claws, or were hurled aside by the whirling hammer, they began to increase the aggression in their attack. The formerly methodical approach was disposed of in favor of total offensive maneuvering. The noose that had been forming to trap them became a spear as the hoard of unliving monsters converged on them all at once.
Wolfgang felt skeletal fingers slashing against his arms and body. He felt cracked teeth trying to sink into his legs whenever he drew too close to the sides. He felt undead hands trying to close around his ankles and trip him. He felt it all, but he fought on regardless.
With each swing, another of the horrors were sent flying. Though his blows rained thick and heavy, a dishearteningly small number of them actually stayed down. The majority simply began swimming back towards the group once they hit the water to rejoin the assault. Still, it bought them time, and time was one of the most important things they could get at this point. The divining rod was screaming in their ears from its position in Willow's hand, telling them that salvation was not far.
As another unburied creature was hurtled into the depths, a glimpse of deliverance was his reward.
A stone monolith rose from the lake at the end of the bridge they walked. Jagged obsidian edges dotted every inch of its surface, giving the formation a cruel and sinister appearance. The tower hardly even registered in Wolfgang's mind. What was infinitely more important was the object that stood tall and imposing on top of it.
Maxwell's doorway.
The final doorway.
"There it is! Just a little further!" Wilson's shout could hardly be heard over the noise of the conflict, but it was enough to rally the group for another final push. "We're going to have to climb!"
The strongman's weapon smashed aside one final skeleton, clearing the path in front of them. For the moment, no more of the creatures stood between them and the end. Before more could rise to bar their way, the survivors put on a burst of speed.
Even as they drew near to the end, their hunters redoubled the attack. All semblance of order and strategy was abandoned as the mass of undead threw themselves forwards as quickly as they could. The remaining ravens fought against the hoard to the best of their ability, but they were rapidly falling under sheer weight of numbers.
It was with a terrifying clarity that Wolfgang realized they were running out of time.
While the strongman might be able to scale the wall, Wilson wouldn't be able to climb nearly fast enough while carrying the near-catatonic Wendy in his arms. Willow would also be heavily hampered by the two staffs she held. Though she'd already demonstrated her ability to scale something while using them, it would slow her down far more than was acceptable.
They wouldn't be able to make it. Not with how quickly the undead were closing in. Not unless he did something.
Wolfgang ground to a halt, dropping his hammer to the floor. He'd need both hands free for this. His companions didn't notice his sudden stop until they were right beside him, and by that point they were far too late to prevent what was about to happen.
His left hand grabbed a hold of Willow's shoulder while his right clamped down on Wilson's arm. The two of them hardly had time to shout in surprise before the strongman did the only thing he could think to do in order to save them.
Bringing every ounce of his strength to bear, he threw them.
The weight of two grown people alone was a considerable challenge for one person to shift. The weight of two grown people, one small child, and a considerable assortment of trinkets and weaponry would have been nigh on impossible for a normal person.
Wolfgang was far from normal.
As he heaved with the force of total determination, he could actually feel the muscles in his arms tear under the strain of the effort. Cries of confusion turned to screams of fear as his friends became airborne.
Wolfgang didn't stop to watch their flight. He was an expert on throwing heavy objects, having been renowned for it and all other physical feats during his time in the circus, so he knew that their trajectory would land them safely, if uncomfortably, at the top of the twenty foot tall spire. As soon as they left his hands, he spun on his heel to retrieve his fallen weapon.
He was far too late.
Halfway through the turn, Wolfgang experienced what it was to be struck by a train. Though not made of metal, this wall of bone was more than enough to slam the air from his lungs and send him careening off the bridge and into the abyssal waters.
As soon as he hit the surface, he began to sink. The strongman felt a surge of fright as the liquid dragged him under. He struggled against the darkened substance, fighting to swim upwards and reach the surface, but every passing moment drew him further and further from the light he could just barely see being given off by Willow's staff. The lake was pulling him down even as he felt fleshless hands grip his body.
Under water, he twisted and turned against the clinging monstrosities. His lungs burned as he attempted to wrench himself free. His muscles flared in anguish from the weight of his exertions. He fought with everything he had left, but it was simply too much to take. In the span of a second, the last glimpse of light from above vanished into an impermeable wall of black as he was pulled into the very heart of the lake.
It was over. He couldn't fight any more. He couldn't keep this up. In a way, it almost seemed like something inevitable. He'd cheated death once in this journey already. Perhaps this was simply the reaper finally catching up with him again. At the very least, he hoped beyond all else that his sacrifice had not been in vain. He prayed that the others would make it out.
As his body sank and every cell in his body screamed for air, Wolfgang cast one last look towards the surface. He hoped to get at least a brief glimpse of light as he slipped away. One final look at illumination before he was swallowed by darkness.
He got the exact opposite.
Defying reality. Ignoring possibility. Spitting all over the very laws of nature, a streak of shadow so black it actually stood out against the total darkness of the lake shot towards him. Wolfgang feared at first that this was some new trick of the lightless world, but that fear turned to awe as he saw the shadow split apart into five sections that resembled fingers.
The hand of Maxwell's door grabbed a hold of the strongman's body and pulled with a strength that dwarfed even his own. The lake seemed to shudder as it felt the intrusion, doing everything it could to keep a hold of him, but it was unable to keep its prize. The limb ripped him free from the grip of his skeletal captors and began dragging him in the opposite direction.
Wolfgang could have laughed and cried in equal measure as he flew at breakneck pace through the water. He would have done both as he broke the surface had he not been gasping air for all he was worth. The snaking arm pulled him through the night air and towards the gaping maw of the open doorway.
For once, the strongman welcomed the mind-numbing sensation of falling into it.