** A young woman sees a walking dead in the open streets of Whitby. A train full of corpses crashes into Kings Cross. In an Asylum, a gruesome nightmare becomes horrible reality.
All this should have been a warning to Kyle and his partner Benjamin...
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The roof shingles cracked and clattered. Kaylee felt the wet clay from which they had been made and the moss that had overgrown the tiles over the years. The incessant rain created a surface as slippery as oil, which Kaylee's hands couldn't grip.
Her lost walking stick slid down the clay shingle and fell over the edge ahead of them. The momentum of their involuntary slide made them shoot over the edge of the roof. Millicent opened her mouth, but her scream choked in her throat as gravity pulled at her body and pulled her down.
"Crowford!" Benjamin exclaimed desperately, taking a step forward and almost losing his footing as well. At the last moment, however, the doctor shifted his weight, flailing his arms wildly, and righted the misstep just in time. He stared at the disaster unfolding right before his eyes, his eyes wide with terror.
As Kaylee's body slid over the edge of the roof, her mind was paralysed, empty and heavy at the same time. No spell would come to her mind that could have helped her in this predicament. There was only sheer panic—and pure survival instinct when her fingers finally found purchase: on the old, tinny rain gutter, which groaned ominously under the sudden strain.
Her body jerked as her fall came to an abrupt end, her entire weight borne and held by the sweat-dampened, trembling fingers of her right hand. Below her, she could see Millicent's tumbling body plunge downward, then catch and cling desperately to Kaylee's foot.
Kaylee's body trembled under the strain. Adrenaline and the will to live made her fingers dig into the thin sheet metal of the rain gutter with all her might to keep whatever hold the cold metal offered her. The gutter, however, creaked and groaned audibly. The old, long-aged brackets in the stone walls of the old building creaked ominously.
Kaylee could almost see in slow motion how they bent, and the screws with which they had been anchored were pulled out of the stone with a grinding sound. It was like a countdown, counting down with every second, every breath and every slightest movement towards the inevitable plunge into the depths.
"Ben! Help!" Kaylee could only scream in desperation, not even knowing how the other Seeker could have helped her in this situation. Her thoughts, which were usually so clearly structured, resembled tangled wool threads.
The effort to hold on took the young magician's breath away. She yelped loudly and jerked her left arm up, searching for a new handhold. But the edge of the iron gutter was sharp. It almost cut her palm as she tried to shift her weight onto it.
The still-unhealed wound on her left hand, which Kaylee had utterly forgotten about thanks to the effort, suddenly sent a sharp, burning pain shooting up her arm, causing her fingers to come loose again inevitably, and she let out a hoarse cry of pain.
Her face twisted into a grimace of suffering, and for a moment, the unimaginable pain of her wound made black spots appear before her eyes.
