A heavy weight seemed to fall on Myra’s spirit. The realisation setting in and she peered over the precipice and into seemingly endless darkness below. It had all been over in the blink of an eye. So that was it then. Pike was finally dead. She could hardly wrap her mind around it.

She stared dumbly into the abyss, for how long she could not say. But the sound of a boot against the stone floor brought her back to the present. The strange man with the spear and the wide-brimmed hat (he has that now) was there behind her, studying her intently with his single eye.

“Woman…” he said. “That man… what was he to you?”

Myra searched for an answer. “I… I don’t know…”

“Then perhaps…” said the One Eyed Man, “that you are not privy to that man’s true nature. But I have already guessed who you are. You were one of those outlaws he was hunting last?”

Myra nodded.

“Then this was not the first time you’ve beheld that power.”

“I… remember…” said Myra. “He once told me something about a voice in his head… the Voice of the Beast. I thought he was just a madman…”

The One Eyed Man shook his head. “It is the wont of Man to dabble in forces that he does not truly understand. It is a paradox, that those who seek power should so readily let themselves become slaves…”

“I don’t understand…” said Myra, on the verge of tears. “I don’t understand any of this! Who are you? Why did you come after Pike? What the hell is going on here?!”

The One Eyed Man looked away. “I have no reason to tell you anything. Nor would the whole truth be of any comfort to you. If you understood the true nature of this world… then you would wish for ignorance once again. I will at least tell you that such is my duty. I am one of those few who guard the realms of Men from the shadows of the past. What you saw take hold of Pike was but an echo of a power from before the dawn of this world. The Elder Race has sacrificed much to keep the Sunlit Lands free from that ancient terror. But men still continue to seek that power, foolishly believing they can control it, only to become its puppets… or its champions.”

“So that’s it then,” said Myra. “Pike was going to become some kind of… mindless monster?”

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“It would matter little if he were… if it was not for…” But the One Eyed Man went silent. He turned aside, his cloak swirling way too dramatically. “I have said enough. For your sake, you should forget all you’ve seen here. Forget about the man you knew as Pike.”

“Wait! Where are you going?” Myra cried out. “What about Erasmus? I can’t…” But the cloaked figure walked into the shadow of a tunnel, and was gone. A cold wind seemed to brush against Myra, the shadows pressing down all around her. Once again, she was frightened and alone. She slumped to her knees and held back the tears. Why had she come into this place? What good did she think she could do? She had walked into a world of heroes and demons, and had once more lost everyone around her. A heavy weariness held her down, and before long, she fell into a long, fitful slumber. She dreamed of being a little girl again, watching dirty sheep graze and dreaming of adventure…

A long time had past, when something woke her up suddenly. It must have been night in the world above ground, for there was no light coming through the shafts in the caverns vaulting roof. Nor did she have any means of producing light. All was utter blackness around her. She thought she could hear a strange sound, like the snuffling of some kind of beast. To her horror, it came closer, and closer. It echoed all around her, and then, at last, she two points of light appear in the shadows far ahead. She watched them for a while as they seemed to glide like lazy fireflies. But then, they drew nearer, and went still. She could see they were eyes, peering at her through the dark.

Hurriedly, Myra scrambled to her feet, hands reaching for a wall to guide herself with. The eyes drew closer, she could hear the sound of feet scraping against stone. She tried to run, but only stumbled. She turned, and the eyes were right before her. They disappeared momentarily, and a heavy weight came crashing down on her, her nostrils filled with a foul scent. Clawed hands pinned her to the ground. She struggled to reach for her dagger, but her arms were held in place. A gurgling snarl filled her ears. So this was it then. She had come so far, only to die by some unseen creature in the shadowy hell beneath the mountains.

She wondered if Hart and the other outlaws would be there to greet her on the other side…

She was suddenly bathed in pale light. The creature on her back went still.

“Ho there, Creeper!” came a clear voice. “You wretched creature, what have you got there? Come here this moment!”

A heavy hand kept Myra’s head down, burying her face into the floor. She heard an angry hiss. “Wretched? Not fair. Not Nice. Was only doing the job. Catching sneaky Dwarves. No need to worry. Will finish it off very soon…”

“Don’t talk back to me! I told you to come here. Get off that right now before I wring your scrawny neck.”

Reluctantly, the creature removed itself and Myra was free of the weight. Quickly she scrambled up. She looked up, and saw a tall, dark haired man in armour staring down at her, flanked by other men in similar garb. He moved closer, holding up a glowing stone in his hand. The light fell on Myra.

“Dark Lord’s balls…” said the man, raising an eyebrow. “You’re too pretty to be a Dwarf. What are you doing down here?”