The flicker of pale silver light illuminates the robed figure as he walks the metal hallways, a silver device attached to his arm. Its structure is simplistic; a rectangle screen melded into his wrist. A radial fills the screen as it pings an unknown entity every few seconds.

‘Spacetime anomaly detected’. The device suddenly speaks, its voice cold and mechanical. ‘Confirmed entity transition. Abort mission?’ The robed figure’s steps pause, his feet placed solidly on the ground as silver-clad eyes pierce the darkness around him. Its presence thins as it shies away from his gaze.

“Continue the mission.” His voice is powerful, rich with a sense of conviction. “Terminate all connections to headquarters.” The device hums as it processes the command. ‘Connection terminated. Network purged. Message received: good luck soldier’. The device goes silent, save for the rhythmic pinging of the radial.

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The cold numbs Ambrose’s arms as she crawls through the vent, trying her best to remain quiet. The darkness here isn’t as thick, the light of her torch cutting through it like a blade. She spent some time thinking while she moves, and came to the conclusion it isn’t what she is hunting. She’s heard the word legate before, used in some sort of war regime. Not something primal like that…thing.

She hears the skittering of creatures as she moves. Always on the edge of her hearing, distant and strange enough to give no hints at their nature. Only that for something to survive the cold in here it must be quite hardy. And dangerous.

Some time passes with only the chill to accompany her. She can almost taste the cold, like an icy paste that sticks to her tongue. She makes it to a t-section and turns down the right section. Her mind mentally maps the area she’s covering as she moves, but it is vague and rough in distance. Another t-section, and she goes straight.

Every so often a small opening appears in the vents, a metal grate or a chute. The darkness suffocates their entrance, so Ambrose moves on from them. When she makes it to the end of the next section, she finds herself at a dead-end.

Her eyes flicker as she listens for sound, but gloomy silence is the only thing that greets her. Ambrose smooths her hands over the metal walls and pushes against them. They give, indicating nothing behind them. She hesitates for a moment before pulling up her spear and carving it across the metal.

It screeches as Ambrose’s muscles bulge with effort, the spear cutting into it and slowly forming an opening. The metal gives way, and darkness swallows its place. Her torch shines across it and it gives way as the light partially reveals a hallway.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Ambrose drags herself out, keeping her eyes scouring the area as she does. As soon as she rights herself, she takes a look around. The hallway is long but there are no rooms in this section. She raises her torch and the beam, passes over an archway.

Her eyes trail the wrenched metal of what once must’ve been a gateway, before flicking up to read the damaged word carved at the top. They take a moment to be deciphered. Eng—e—-ng. A crash rings out down the hallway, causing Ambrose to dart her eyes toward the sound. She raises her torch into the darkness, only making out a long tunnel.

She takes a step forward, passing over the archway, and walks toward the noise. The darkness seems to grow thicker with each step as the light in her torch begins to dim. Each step draws her further down the long hallway, the darkness stretching around her without end. No end is in sight, the hiss of cold air beginning to number her senses.

The torch flickers for a moment, cutting out, and a whisper brushes past her ear. Ambrose trembles as she grips her spear tight, the light quickly coming back on and cutting a thread through the dark. Her steps pause for a moment, before resuming at a steady pace.

The beam stays strong for a few seconds before cutting on and off in a discordant rhythm. Ambrose takes each step with a measured pace, the whispers swirling around her in an endless cacophony. The light continues to flicker faster and faster, as if something is driving it, and then - in a single moment - it shuts off.

Darkness swarms toward Ambrose and washes over her, her vision cut short. The world is silent, save for her heavy breaths blowing icy dust in the air. Ambrose holds herself steady as her heart beats rapidly, waiting. The darkness grows thicker, viscous like an ink spreading across water.

It slowly gets dyed into an even deeper shade as the inch of vision Ambrose could see around her becomes erased. She’s truly, completely, sightless. Her breath hitches and she fights the rapidly growing panic in her mind. If not for the taste of cold around her, and the feel of metal against her skin, she’d find it hard to believe she’s in the same place.

The hair on the back of Ambrose’s beck stands up as something begins to gather behind her. She can feel it, like an amalgamation of malice. The feeling gets stronger and stronger, until Ambrose hears something that makes her whole body shiver. A breath on the back of her neck.

Her eyes blaze as she uses her memory to reach to where her waist is and pulls out The Magician. It breaks down, and the torch in her hand blazes with a strength far beyond what it was previously. Except, instead of light, it's now a pure flame.

It cuts through the darkness like a sword of flame, an angry shriek crying out from behind her. She swings the torch around as she aims for the thing behind her, but only makes it far enough to connect as a powerful force collides her.

Ambrose is sent flying back and, for a brief moment, she sees something, before blinding pain pierces her body as she hits the metal wall. Her spear clatters to the side, but she holds her torch tight as she slumps to the ground. The darkness recedes, and Ambrose finds herself truly alone.