The Two Sides of the Gate

Shirley's consciousness jolted awake from the collapsing dream. She opened her eyes in the darkness and found herself still lying amid that dark thicket, like a bramble patch.

Whispers and strange howls seemed to be right beside her ears, almost burrowing into her brain. Icy currents spread from gaps in the shadows like nauseating tentacles, as if they were about to lick her skin. Something lay beyond the thicket: a mass of writhing things whose size constantly swelled and shrank, whose solid outlines were impossible to make out. They had caught the scent of the living and crossed a vast distance to find this hiding place—a feast was about to begin.

Shirley twitched an arm slightly. The stiffness and numbness throughout her body made every movement extraordinarily difficult, but she felt a faint warmth spreading from somewhere inside her, nourishing the shell that had died only moments ago.

She lowered her head with difficulty and saw that the heart in her chest had stopped completely. Within mere seconds, it had shriveled and withered into a clump of black residue. Yet a wisp of Eerie Green Flame burned quietly atop it—strange, but warm.

That limited warmth restored a little strength to her, and she slowly struggled to her feet.

Her arm swung inadvertently, and the broken black chain around her right arm scraped against the ground, making a sound that was not particularly loud, yet was piercing in this dark and silent place.

The whispers and howls beyond the thicket paused briefly, then abruptly turned into a chilling roar!

Countless swelling, undulating shadows rose from the shattered land outside. Countless grotesque and misshapen Abyssal Demons took form in wild delight and charged toward the feast!

Spirit fire spread and burned through the gaps in her bones. The black residue in her