Terror of the Shadow

EPILOGUE

The black thing marched across the Outland. His thick cloak was so dark it looked like might have been woven from strands of night. The sick, toothy grin and unwavering eyes of his mask were the only hint that there was still something of a man left behind the shell. His steps were slow. Light. Calculated. An onlooker would have immediately known that this was the sort of thing that moved with a purpose, like a predator silently approaching its prey. He seemed keen, alert, and ready to pounce at any moment. But there were no onlookers. There couldn't be. Because if you saw him, you knew that you were the prey.

And by then it would be too late.

The cave approached. The empty mouth of it opened wide before him, as if beckoning him to enter the darkness. Darkness was good. The darkness was a well of power.

The two sentries that stood guard were quickly alerted to the presence of the approaching creature, but not a moment before he wanted them to. They raised their rifles, but the thing did not stop moving.

One of the guards shouted at him in their strange, primitive language. They grew more and more uneasy with every step that the man in black made towards them. They shouted again, but he still would not shorten his stride. The guard on the right took aim. He fired a shot, but the bullet did not meet its mark. He fired again, and so did the other. The air was filled with the sharp sounds of explosions and bullets whizzing past, but none of them made so much as a scratch on their target. Confused, the guards stopped firing. But the shadow never stopped walking. He turned towards the guard on the right and began marching directly at him. The sentry drew a long, jagged blade from its sheath. Uttering a ululating war cry he charged at the intruder, knife raised. The guard was ready to plunge its metal into the trespasser's flesh, but his arm stopped midair, caught in the grip of a cold, pallid hand. The knife dropped into the sand, and the man began to scream. The scream was loud, guttural, and painful to listen to. They were the screams of a man experiencing pain beyond comprehension. The skin of the man's forearm held in the creature's grip began to shrivel and burn, fuming with foul-smelling black smoke. The man in black released his grip, and the guard collapsed into the sand, clutching his mangled appendage.

He screamed and cursed the man in black, throwing a wad of spittle from his lips. His cries were cut short, choked by an invisible hand. He struggled for breath, writhing helplessly in the sand before his eyes turned over in his skull and his body fell limp. After a few moments of silence, his clothes now began to smolder and smoke, and within moments the entire corpse was engulfed in fire.

The sadistic grin of his murderer's mask only looked more menacing now; the reflection of orange flames danced across its unchanging expression as he stood and watched the flesh of the man turn to ash and smoke.

He turned to look at the other guard, who now cowered in fear, eyes wide and visibly shaking.

"Go," the man in black ordered. His voice was low and smooth, even melodic. "Tell your master."

The guard released his white-knuckled grip on the hilt of his weapon and stumbled up to his feet. He sprinted into the darkness of the cave, happy, to be sure, to put some distance between himself and the monster.

The man of shadow stood and waited. He was patient.

He did not have to wait long. Only a few minutes later, he could sense more beings approaching from within. There was one man, clearly under the impression that he held some power over his men, flanked by two bodyguards on his right and left. As they stepped out from the mouth of the cave, the man made sure to hold his hands in such a way to reflect the sunlight off his collection of glittering rings that adorned his fingers.

"You are not welcome here, stranger," the man said. "This is War'ack territory."

"Does it look like I stumbled by here on accident?" said the man in black, cocking his head slightly to one side.