The Shade

[PepsiWhirda]

They rode northwest across the wasteland, toward the dull glimmer of sunset. Nyx clung to Whirda's waist in sullen silence. The goblin staff bounced on the blood mage's back, intermittently entering Whirda's vision. The fist-sized hunk of ruby flashed and bubbled, seemingly in time with the demon's communications. Whirda could feel Nyx go rigid against her, the blood mage's grip tightening and her breath growing rapid and shallow. After a time, the peak of a solitary mountain loomed on the horizon.

Van Helsing rode up beside them. "The shade's den is at the foot of the mountain," he said, his voice bouncing with the movements of the galloping horse. "A series of caverns deep beneath the ground."

"Will it be guarded?" Whirda asked.

"Heavily, I suspect," the professor said. "The shade is autonomous, but his allegiance lies with the Count. Many of the creatures of this realm have been placed at his disposal."

"His?" Whirda had never thought of shades—full shades, not the Shadovar of Faerûn—as having genders.

"His name is Ahn Thrix. Or, it is now. He was once human, like us. During the war with Diablo, he was a great warrior in service of the kingdom. He was... infected by a creature of darkness, now banished to the Underverse. The shade is what he became."

"You couldn't cure him?" Whirda asked.

The professor shook his head, some ancient pain flashing behind his eyes. "I am sure you have noticed a certain... disparity in your abilities since your arrival here, yes?"

"It doesn't do the inconvenience justice, when you put it like that," Whirda chuckled. "But yes, I know what you mean."

"I arrived in the Omniverse toward the end of the war," Van Helsing said. "I had not yet regained my healing powers when it ended. The lives I could have saved..."

As the mountain drew closer, no attacks impeded their progress, though the professor had said the shade was aware of their presence. It seemed Ahn Thrix was content in allowing them to come.

Whirda took the opportunity to learn more about the Omniverse. "Do you know why we lose our powers when we arrive here?" she asked.

"I have spoken with many experts in my time here. The consensus is that Omni wants us all on an even playing field, at least at first. For his viewing pleasure, as it were," the professor said, with a sad smile.

"So we're just putting on a show for some despot god? Is that all this is?"

"You are," Van Helsing said. "The primes, that is to say. We are merely your... supporting cast."

Nyx, as if stumbling just then into the conversation, said, "But we have free will, right? Like, it's not scripted, this mission we're on? We could just turn around and leave?"

The professor shrugged. "I suppose you have free will, yes. Until Omni gets bored, anyway."

"What happens then?" Nyx asked.

"Nothing good," the professor said plainly.

Night fell, and the Moors grew, if possible, even gloomier. Whirda could only make out the faint outline of the mountainous crags above as they rode into the foothills. The professor grew reserved, focused on their task. The occasional shaft of sallow moonlight caught on the clips of crossbow bolts crisscrossing his broad chest.

"Be wary," he warned, as they came to a stop and dismounted. "We are here."

Whirda looked up, and she saw it. A hundred or so yards up into the foothills, the mouth of a cave yawned wide in the darkness. From within, she could see the flickering claws of torchlight on stone.

And descending toward them, given away by their mindless groans and shambling gait, a horde of undead made up their welcoming party.