The Dark was upon him, whistling through the tunnels and ripping the walls.  A
scent of broken dirt streamed through the caverns, dirtying his nostrils.  Jay scrambled for
the lighted hole through which his friends had disappeared.  Rocks and dirt were loosened,
and his fingers scarped and bleeding, but the wind was too strong to allow his climb.  Fear
made him panic.  He slid to the tunnel floor, screaming.
	Gray faces, disembodied and howling the wind, bore down on him.  Their eyes and
mouths were hollow, like a typhoon gale.  And they screamed at him, and he screamed
back.
	The Dark washed over him, drowning him.  And then it was gone, and so was Jay.


	Many colors, shapes, and voices marked the crowd which circled the opening
leading out of the cavern/cathedral.  Roman and Marty hurried after the Twenty-One. 
	Hikaru broke through the crowd and peered down the hole at Jay�s broken body. 
His corpse littered the tunnel floor, ripped open to reveal the scarlet treasures hidden
inside him.  It seemed as if a faint echo of his screams still lingered through the cavernous
maze, borne upwards by the faint tickle of an unnatural breeze.
	Roman struggled through the crowd of beautiful monstrosities, bumping into
shoulders covered by fur and molded with metal.  Finally, he stood at Hikaru�s side and
joined his gaze into the darkened tunnel below.
	He did not share the Buddha-like contemplation of his friend.  Hikaru was right: 
Roman had no taste for blood.
	�Seal it,�  Hikaru said.
	Two men, strong-muscled and tanned, their bodies made into tapestries by their
myriad tattoos, stepped forward. They carried a huge stone. With a thud, they dropped it
into the earthen orifice.
	Roman murmured something--not words, but surprise itself.
	�Nothing can be done for him now, Roman,�  Hikaru said, placing a hand on his
friend�s shoulder. �If there is anything left of him, it will find us.�
	Roman shook his head:  �No, there is nothing.�
	Hikaru tightened his grip on Roman�s shoulder for a moment, then he turned to a
woman decorated by raven feathers and stars.
	�Rannoch, my friends will stay with you tonight.  Go and prepare your house.�
	She nodded and scurried away, followed by a man-beast, covered with fur and
willowy in build like some strange mixture of cheetah and teddy bear.
	�Go and follow her, Roman.  You and I will speak again later.  There is still much
to explain.  Sleep well tonight, my friend.�
	With that, the crowd shattered itself, scattering people to their huts.  Hikaru turned
and walked back across the sand to the largest hut--the one from which they�d come--and
then he disappeared within.
	Roman looked at Marty, then they followed the path of Rannoch and her mate.

	Jay remembered the wind, and the screaming, and the blackness.  It had been the
Dark.  He leaned against one broken wall of the tunnel, which bled mud from shattered
pipes and dark earthworm bodies.  And he stared at the broken form which littered the
sand with rubies of blood.  
	Who is he?  he wondered.  I was sure there was no one here when--when it
came....
	He felt the sand, wanting to touch the dead man before him. But he worried about
the blood--how warm it would be, and sticky. And he thought about the chill, and
wondered if he felt it too.
	He gathered his strength and released the sand in his hands.  Jay touched the rough
edge of the man�s torn shirt. The cold flesh beneath was still tinged with warmth.  Taking
a deep breath, he pushed the man over, revealing his face.  His yes were still wide with
terror.
	Jay screamed, for the dead man�s face, white and darkened by terror, was his own.
	Jay stared at his hands. It was hard to believe that they truly were his hands. They
were alabaster and transparent;  shredded by gravel and rock. They almost glowed in the
darkness.
	Jay reached for the stone which closed the hole through which his friends had
disappeared hours before. He attempted to touch the cold surface, but his fingers went
through the rock.  His fingertips tingled like wire pulled tight across an aluminum tub.  He
yelped softly.
	He plunged his hand into the stone, feeling the cold interior of the rock.  It was
crisp as it tingled across his fingers, like ice under the cold slime of snow.
	He plunged his arm into the stone up to the elbow.  Then, smiling, he leapt up and
into the rock.
	Jay found himself in the cavern/cathedral, now darkened for the night.  Fires still
burned in some of the huts, framing shadows which moved within.  Strange voices echoed
through the alleyways between huts, and chatters caught his attention here and there.
	He walked down through the alleyways, peering into the firelit shadows of the
huts.  Two tattooed men lay on a straw mat, their faces bronze tapestries in the firelight. 
Another hut was home to a tall gaunt figure, cloaked in red silk, long silver braids falling
down his back.  Three women--maiden, mother, and crone--slept together on a silk futon
in another of the huts.  They slept and moved as one--not a repetition of motion, but one
continuous movement performed by all three.
	In the not-so-far-off distance, there was a high keening, singing sound, made cold
with hissing and rustling.  The song was punctuated percussively by a low, wooden
beating. It�s a lullaby, Jay thought.  A lullaby to frighten a child to sleep.
	A hut, still lit by a small fire, was the source of the sound.  He stepped into the
doorway; peered inside.
	A woman�s shapely form, blonde hair shimmering in the twilight, leaned over a
large loom.  Warp and weft were colored by midnight blue and gossamer silver, like
spiderwebs. And she sang, punctuating her song with the thumping of her loom.
	�Hello?�  Jay ventured, mingling hopes--the hope that she would see him, the hope
that she wouldn�t, and the hope that if she did, she wouldn�t scream.
	The woman stopped her weaving and her song, and turned to face him.  Jay feared
for a moment that she might scream, but then he realized that she was almost as
malformed as he.  Her eyes were cold black, like a bird�s. And, like a bird�s, here eyes
were surrounded by gold, downy feathers.  The feathers swept upwards to join her hair,
still golden sunshine.  The rest of her face was snowy pale and beautiful.  She seemed a
beautiful woman at a masquerade ball, hiding behind a mask of feathers. But the mask was
part of her face.
	�Hello,� she answered, then turned back to her loom. The woman began her song
anew.  The percussion of the loom now sent shivers down Jay�s spine, telling him with
finality to go away. So he did.