As he stalked past ripples of glowing fields, strange trees and flowers and he suddenly realized that he'd wondered into a dark, dense forest. The trees no longer boasted brilliant foliage and petals, but instead a terrible, aching darkness began to loom as the sun began to further fade from the sky.
The branches of the trees reached up like imploring skeletal hands and the bark was twisted and warped, the ground seemed dank and filled with thick underbrush. Sylar ignored the voice inside his head begging him to stop, to turn and run to safety. I don't run from anyone or anything, he thought.
A feeling of intense sadness seemed to settle across his shoulders as he stepped beneath the arboreal cover. It seemed to taint the air and hang with vestigial fear, rage and lost hope. Nonsense, Sylar chided himself, these were useless emotions that were elicited from his lack of sleep and hunger. Nothing more.
As he ventured deeper into the wood, a lazy mist spilled from the ground and coated the air with a foul smell and Sylar struggled not to gag. He suddenly felt like a child from a fairy tale, a child that wonders lost into the big, bad forest only to encounter an ever bigger, badder wolf.
He chuckled noiselessly. He was a child no longer. He was special. He had purpose. He was not afraid, he assured himself.
Sylar continued on and tried not to look at the creeping creatures that skittered, scattered and slithered along the ground as he made his way in the dim moon lit night. He tried to ignore the shifting shadows that seemed to move with a life of their own and instead focused on the clearing he could barely make out ahead.
He was almost there. Just a little bit more, he told himself. Just a bit more-- He felt his legs grow sluggish and tired. He stumbled, tripped and then finally tried feverishly to extricate himself from the muck that had assembled beneath his feet, dragging him down like quicksand.
He struggled for a long moment before feeling his arms turn to lead and he could no longer use them, and they dropped useless at his side. He sighed with bitter defeat, his mind racing and screaming with a need to run, to flee, to fight this ever increasing fugue. He felt himself losing the battle and the muck sucked him down waist high. He could feel his eyes rolling back and then he opened them, looked up and saw something that made his breath catch in his throat, his heart race even faster and his mind spin and whirr with denial.
In front of him stood a vampire; at least, that's what it looked like to Sylar's battered eyesight. It was tall, absurdly thin and sported long and dangerous looking fangs. It looked almost like a human, save for the grey tinge of its skin and its leathery black wings. The creature was looking down at Sylar with feral glee and it was soon joined by a troika of others. Even more creatures surrounded Sylar, many of them were tentacled, scaly and the stuff of nightmares. The vampires spoke in a fast whirring tongue, the cadence of their words rising and falling with out end at first and then ending when the largest one grinning wildly and showing teeth.
It was apparent to Sylar that his end was nearer than it had ever had been. He had survived gun shots, explosions, subzero temperatures, and now it looked as he'd be gobbled up by something out of a Grimm's fairy tales. Oh hell, he thought. The biggest vampire stepped forward and then crouched. It opened it's mouth and a long, thin tongue slid forward and seemed to caress Sylar's cheek. Sylar tried to still the shudders of disgust that ran through him as the creature withdrew its tongue and left a slimy trail of saliva. Whatever it had tasted on his skin had caused it to lick its lips in anticipation. Sylar watched in horror and tried feebly to move as it opened its jaws wide and revealed rows of dangerous and sharply edged teeth. It came closer and closer, its tongue whipping the air furiously and its cohorts whining with need and hunger.
A high pitched whistle rent the air. The creature turned to look and was impaled and hooked into the nearest tree. Many of the other creatures followed before finally fleeing. White fires quickly erupted and burned the nightmarish entities that were still waiting along the ground and in the trees. The muck disappeared and Sylar found himself able to once again move.
He looked around in confusion and sought the source of his salvation. It was not other than Aydra, dressed in tight leather and the markings of a warrior smoothed across her face in vibrant and luminescent ochre. She stood a short distance away, crossbow in hand.
"Do not thank me, human," she told him, her chin raised haughtily.
"Believe me, I won't. I could have handled them myself."
"I suppose your lack of gratitude is a trait of your species. Very well. I understand that is your ignorance that impedes you from falling at my feet."
Sylar scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I would never fall at your feet."
She shrugged prettily. "I suppose I could have let them eat you, of course such a fate I would not wish on any creature in this land, seeing as they enjoy their meals to be fresh, and death can take many days. I hear they digest your skin first, then your muscles and finally your organs. But it is no matter, seeing as you could have handled them yourself."
Sylar grimaced and then followed her as she began to walk from the forest. They quickly cleared the area and were once again surrounded by beautiful nightlife and foliage. The air around them was light and scented. The feeling of doom and depression was quickly lifted from his shoulders and he sighed.
"There will be no more attempts to escape. You will entertain the queen as she sees fit. I will not save you again."
Sylar angrily gritted his teeth and followed her back to the cave. A feeling of helpless despair began to overtake him.