FOUR #2
She sighed, not expecting it to have worked so deep in the Rift, but she’d had a sudden urge to speak to someone.
Not for comfort. No, Amelia was not one to trust in others for comfort and understanding.
Amelia wanted scientific and academic support, someone to tell her she was doing the right things.
Placing the Wayglass aside, she thought it was for the best that the magic was too unstable to have worked.
She had promised Silas that they would keep it a secret for now.
The problem being, it was a secret she was sharing with Silas Finley, of all people.
Amelia barely trusted anyone, let alone the man who had plagued and rivalled her career for so many years.
He was someone Amelia had never been able to get a clear read on.
It was difficult to trust him with something so monumental, something that could impact not only her entire career, but her life.
Midnight was approaching quickly, and Amelia paced about, on edge. She kept her blade covered in the fabric, hoping that she was wrong, and midnight would have no more of an effect than it had the night before, which had been bad enough.
Amelia stepped out into the torrent of wind with only a few minutes left of the day, flinching when the cold air blasted against her skin, her stray hairs whipping around her face.
Everyone was in bed, but she could see arcane lamps lighting each tent, proving that they were all still awake and awaiting midnight just as she was.
The fire flared and died with the ebb and flow of wind, but it crackled furiously on, giving her a small sense of comfort.
Hank and Frank were stoically walking the perimeter of the campsite, huddled against the strong winds, their guns slung over their backs.
The first sense Amelia had that something was about to go very wrong was the sharp sting she felt on her left hand. She flinched at the sudden flare of pain and looked down at the shadow of a cut she could see in the darkness.
She looked up to find Silas stepping out from his tent, his eyes finding hers immediately. Even from across the campsite, she could tell he felt the same onset of pain as she did, his face pinched with it.
The low rumbling started in the distance, the sound now worryingly familiar to Amelia. Her body braced for the quake.
The others began to emerge from their tents, faces wary, bodies tense.
A perimeter lamp burst into a shower of sparks, and then died altogether.
The group’s eyes grew wide as one by one, each lamps’ golden glow cracked with a sound that seemed impossible over the thunderous noise of the quake, the mutinous roar of the wind. A darkness descended as their sources of light died, Amelia’s blood chilling in her veins with each one.
A feeling of pressure in her chest began, and she pressed her hand there, her sense of panic escalating.
Then everything went very wrong.
The wind stopped blowing with the sound of a vacuum, the erasure of noise in her ears was like a warning of what was to come.
The world began to shake.
The pressure on her chest eased for a breath, only for her body to feel like it was shattering apart.
Her vision went black, every nerve ending in her body flaring with a sudden burst of pain.
Amelia couldn’t feel the ground beneath her anymore, and she had no sense of where she was in space, like her body was being flung through complete darkness.
Then, just as suddenly, her feet slammed against the ground and there were a pair of arms around her, holding her upright. Someone breathed heavily into her ear.
“What the—” It was Silas’ deep voice in her ear.
Amelia tried to pull away, but the ground was still quaking beneath them, making her stumble. Silas kept her steady with a hand to her arm, but she felt anything but moored.
When she looked down, she found they were in the middle of the campsite, only feet from the fire beside her. Her last recollection was standing outside the entrance of her tent.
How did I get here?
She looked wildly at Silas, who seemed just as shaken as she felt, his wide eyes darting around and pausing on her face.
When the world stopped shaking, the wind returned, blowing the long strands of hair away from her face and stinging at her eyes. The fire returned in full force, their only current light source. The arcane lamps stayed dark, their crystals within likely broken.
The rest of the camp hurried towards the fire, seeking the safety of the light.
With the dying arcane lamps, the perimeter of safe space had decreased significantly.
The clouds covered what she knew to be a full moon, all natural light extinguished.
Amelia could no longer see any of the tents, the rest of their campsite had plunged into complete darkness.
“Crawlers!” someone shouted, and there was a single shot of a gun that had Amelia flinching in fright. She hadn’t even realised that Silas still held her upper arm until she was pulled closer to him at the sound of the shot.
The two mercenaries backed into the fire’s circle of light, their guns pointed out into the pitch dark.
The group huddled close. Someone was whimpering.
They were all scientists—academics, with the exception of the mercenaries.
None of them were equipped to deal with true danger such as this.
Amelia had researched the Rift fastidiously, and the risks it could present.
But nothing prepared you for the shock of being in the thick of it, of imminent danger, of the threat of harm or death.
She felt numb and terrified all at once. She was lightheaded while also being rooted to the spot. Her hands were curled into tight fists, nails digging into her palms, but she felt no pain.
The only thing she was acutely aware of beside the waves of panic, were the tight fingers curled around her arm and the warmth of a chest pressed against her back.
Amelia could never have said before the last handful of hours that she had ever felt grateful to Silas Finley, but she did in moment, for grounding her, and reminding her she wasn’t alone.
“Everyone, stay by the fire,” called one of the mercenaries over the roar of the wind.
They were tense and silent as the armed men stared out into the abyss, their weapons pointed at nothing.
That was when they all heard it. Them .
There was movement, all around. The sound of a hundred tiny pattering footsteps, somewhere just beyond their visual field. Clicking and chittering, reminiscent of a thousand cicadas in summertime. Amelia shivered.
“That’s not normal,” Silas muttered.
“Brilliant observation, Finley,” she hissed.
“Quiet,” said Hank, narrowing his eyes. He turned back to the darkness and fired off a shot. A screeching sound rung through the night, followed by the pattering of feet. The chittering growing louder, more menacing.
“We need to repair the lamps,” Halpert said, voice seemingly calm, though when Amelia looked over, she saw his face was pale.
Amelia swallowed. “I have—”
A piercing cry rang out, and her head whipped around just as Hank disappeared from the fire’s light, his body pulled away and disappearing into the night.
Several people screamed. Amelia might have been one of them, but she couldn’t tell. She was pulled back a step by the hand on her arm.
Frank was firing into the darkness, swearing quietly as his shoulder jerked from the force of the shots.
After a moment, Hank’s cries were cut off abruptly.
Amelia raised a hand to her mouth and covered her whimpers, eyes filling with tears. When she had gathered herself, she lowered her hand and cleared her throat before speaking.
“I have spare crystals locked in my tent,” she said, voice rasping out.
“Oh sure,” Silas said, his shaky voice thick with what she felt was forced sarcasm, “let’s just go on a stroll through the death-infested darkness, shall we?”
Amelia pulled away from him and turned, glaring up at Silas.
“Do you have a better idea? Would you like to spend all evening praying the fire doesn’t burn out until we’re picked off one by one?
” She didn’t wait for a response. Amelia bent and retrieved a burning log from the fire, gripping an end that hadn’t yet burned through.
She raised it high before taking a deep breath and shifting away from the others to move towards Frank.
She stood behind him as he fired one more shot.
“I’m going to my tent to find replacement crystals for the lamps,” Amelia announced. “It’s the only way we’ll survive the night.”
Frank shuffled back and faced her. He looked around at the others and then nodded. “I’ll accompany you.”
Amelia shook her head. “You have to protect everyone here. I’ll have the fire.
” She looked over her shoulder to the huddled, frightened junior scholars.
Halpert stood next to Somara, one looking much calmer than the other.
Silas was watching her with an intense look on his face.
Amelia turned back to Frank. “You’re all they’ve got. ”
Frank frowned down at her. “I can’t let you go alone.”
“She won’t go alone.”
Amelia shifted towards the speaker, surprised to find Silas standing beside her, arms folded and staring stoically at Frank.
“Finley—”
He set his eyes on her. “No debate,” he said firmly. “If anything is dragging you off into the night, they’ll have to drag me off, too.”
She might have protested further, except for the profound relief of not being alone on such a dangerous trek into the darkness. It was a strange thing, to be so suddenly reliant on this man when a few days ago she would not have trusted him to safeguard so much as a sandwich.
He fetched his own burning log before returning to her. “We run, fast.”
She nodded, heart thundering in her throat. “Agreed.”
“Stop agreeing with me so much, Winslow,” he said, though his voice cracked on the joke. “It’s scaring me more than the Crawlers.”
Amelia rolled her eyes then turned back to the dark.
Her feet shifted from side to side, preparing for the possibility she was about to be torn apart.
Every second, she convinced herself she was ready to go, then panic would surge, and her feet would remain fixed to the spot.
After a few breathless moments, she pulled herself together and let out a long, deep exhale.
“Okay,” she said shakily, “ready… run !”