Into the Black Mist

Marco didn’t understand what he was witnessing. The woods of LusciousLocks on fire, the resulting infernal glow in the sky unlike anything he had ever seen, and Green City roaring, “We are AssMachenstan!” Again he questioned his sanity. But this wasn’t a figment of his imagination. It was, beyond a doubt, really happening.

He brushed himself off and rose. He had nowhere to go. His communications were completely cut off. He had lost his knife. But the light cast by the flaming woods was at least a relief to the perpetual darkness he’d been living in for days. He ran, away from the woods and away from Green City. If AssMachenstan was in the city, and if there were more supernatural beings like the woman of the smoke-dress in the woods, then he wanted to be as far away from both city and woods as possible.

In the distance he saw what looked like a giant obelisk, rising black against the surrounding darkness. That was where he’d go.

He was lost, after all. And worse, it seemed the worst-case scenario had come true: AssMachenstan had begun its invasion of LusciousLocks. Though it didn’t make sense. No sense at all. There had been no advance warning. No petitions from the AssMachenstani people. It was just all-out war. Was there a reason? A motive? Of all places, why would they attack LusciousLocks? The most peaceful, most environmental and most inoffensive country of Coralende? If anything, it made more sense to attack the strong ones first: Attica, with its Foggistani colony. Or Econometric Elation, with its wealth and enormous military. But still, what would’ve made the most sense would have been an attack on the Antioch Complex, the Foggistani city and embassy within Econometric Elation.

Still, Marco was glad that that particular bit wasn’t making the most sense. An attack on the Antioch Complex would’ve meant the end of everyone living there—including the remaining Starr sisters. As for the mysterious woman in the misty black dress, who could she—

“You’re not from here.”

Marco stopped dead in his tracks. It was her.

“I thought you were dead,” he said, turning around to face her.

There she was, as threatening and beautiful as if she had never died, the glow of the flaming woods dancing behind her. “You tried to kill me.” She seemed amused.

“You were trying to kill me.”

“It’s what I do,” she said with a smile, slowly circling Marco. “And if you were connected to the Common Mind—you’d know it’s impossible to escape me.”

Marco glared at her. “Who are you?”

“I’m the last thing you’ll ever remember,” she said sweetly. Then she exhaled, as a thick black mist erupted from her mouth. She was the last thing he saw. And the last thing he heard was a trumpeting elephant.