I walk outside and survey my surroundings, preparing for the worst. No excursion has gone particularly well in the past fifty years. The stone pulses next to my heart as an ear-splitting screech fills the air, and I'm protected from the worst of it. A woman with slate-grey skin, naked but for the ashen wings wrapping around her, lands in front of me. Eldritch markings distort her skin, covering nearly every inch of it. Annora, the Herald of Apathy.
"Many seek your life, Jon Madison." All other sound ceases when she speaks, the voice of a vacuum.
"I'm well aware. Why are you telling me this? And how are you aware?" Her face reveals nothing, as I expected. I was once terrified of her, she who embodies soullessness, heartlessness. Nothingness of a sort. Who wouldn't be?
"For you to know this would be for your journey to end. I want you to have something to do with your eternal life, Jon Madison." She does not smile, but the smile of another fades. Such is her nature.
"Don't lie to me, Annora. You want nothing." I steel myself against her even as I feel that very strength drain. Any longer, and I'll... "Leave me. I'll find my own way."
Just as she was there, she is now gone. No flash of light. No puff of smoke. Simply an absence to replace an absence. Slowly shaking off her presence, if there is such a thing, I walk. Where I walk, I do not know. But it can't be worse than staying here.
