Un-Stuck

I could smell her… That foul stench of rot and decay. That potent and familiar smell of the undead was one I would never remove from my senses, no matter how strong the tonics. The entire stretch of the hallway was bathed in that horrid odor and yet, I still found myself creeping closer and closer to my goal. Each step echoed softly along the slime soaked walls, my hands trailed along to keep my balance firm and my bearings locked. The darkness would swallow one in an instant, fortunately for me, my heritage gave me the gifts to be able to pierce the darkness somewhat and traverse it without the need for torch or flint. I knew I grew closer, every step down the wretched hallway underneath this castle, to my one goal. Vaal’Una, the Witch, would die tonight. That horrible, horrible smell… That festering notion in my mind kept my pace slow to a crawl, however. “What if she has yet to change fully,” I asked myself aloud against my better judgement. No, I thought better, she is gone f...

She looked at him as if she saw a monster. His face morphed into something ghastly with tendrils of mucus flying off of his sharp teeth and black haunting eyes threatening to suck out her soul through her irises. Her body failed any method of protective precautions and completely shut down instead of fleeing like her brain shouted to do. A growl emitted from the back of his throat, sending a wave of nausea from the pit of her stomach up her esophagus. She was backed into a corner, the moist stone wall pressed right up against her back. She willed her body to melt into the stone, pushing herself so close to it the sharp ridges broke the thin skin of her shoulders. He forced his body almost against hers, threatening to engulf her, eliminating any sight lines around his burly frame. Where was there to go? A frenzied smile played with the edge of his mouth, a laugh so baritone pulsed through her rib cage, shaking each strand of veins attached to her heart. “Don’t fuss, my sweet.” He hissed...