Twilight. The brief moment when day and night mix, before the waining Sun is overwhelmed by the encroaching darkness. That assured dying of the light. That last refuge before large and terrible primal forces assert themselves. Darkness is more than a sheer absence of light. It is the silk cloth that envelops you, constrains and smothers you in the night.
Twilight set upon the marshlands adjacent to Tom's abode. Across the wide, soggy expanse, insects chirp and fill the air, so thick that the world seems to have a hazy shimmer. It is here we rejoin our heroes, on the spot where Tom saw the Banshee, by the old tree stump. "Sue, Dave, spread out and place the beacons at equidistant intervals in a 200m diameter around this spot. I'll set up the portable Epk reader and Interferometers." Meanwhile, Tom paid his respects to his mother.
It was several minutes before Arven realised an icy wind had developed. As he looked up from the technological devices he had be working on, he realised with fear that a fog had surrounded him. It was by far the thickest fog he had ever seen. He could barely make out Tom, and he was only a few feet away. Dave and Sue would be completly cut off. He called out, but they didn't answer. He checked his mobile, but it didn't have signal. He tried the short range walkie-talkie, but it must have fallen, and was lost in the fog swirling at his feet. Quickly, he made his way to Tom, not wanting to be alone in this weather. The fog seemed to be drawing in further. The fog seemed to be all around him. The fog seemed to be clinging to him. The fog was grasping him, clutching him tight. The fog was so thick, Arven swore he had difficulty stepping through it. The fog was everywhere. The fog was.
As Arven desperately reached out a hand towards Tom, he heard it. The freezing fog, and the icy dampness was nothing compared to bone chilling scream that rang out across the marsh. He could see her, the Banshee, only 3 feet away, but glowing, shining darkly against rhe fog. The one truth in this mind numbing haze. Arven felt his heart race. Specifically, race backwards in a desperate attempt to escape his chest cavity and retreat away for the woman. His mind raced, threatening to strike because of the cacophony of screaming voices in his head, each noticing a new terror. His fear was no longer a part of him. It was him, and he was just a passenger in his own body. Detached, and observing the riotous anxiety coursing through his body.
As the fog blinded his vision, the terror blinded his thoughts. Images of death raced through his mind's eye: Frank, Tom, David, Himself, Susan...
"No!" he growled through clenched teeth. A new thought had formed in his mind. A simple, basic thought. "No!" No, I will not let you hurt her! No, I will not die! No, I will not give in! Around this thought, he organised his mind. A tiny oasis of calm, a sheltered cove in the path of a brutal typhoon. Slowly and agonisingly, he took control of his mind, regained his thoughts, and reined in his fears.
The Banshee started at him, this mere fleshy biped that dared oppose her... He would learn. He would suffer, but not yet... Her plan was not yet ready. Almost, but not quite... She needed more time.
"You dare to stand against me?" she howled, shrill and loud, and simultaneously deep and rumbling. The Earth trembled and the air tore at her words.
"What is your purpose here, Lady?" Arven struggled to get the words out, but found it easier with each sentence. "Why are you killing us?" "Why this pattern?"
"Ha, you stand against me, and you cannot even say why. Yours is truly a pitiful race" sneered the Banshee.
"I shall show you, if only to let you appreciate the hopelessness of your situation."
"My kind roam the universe, settling on inhabited worlds. We feed on psychic energy, and on emotions. Most of my race were content with tasting only the negative emotions. They sang to those near death, and feasted on the grief of those gathered. They believed in a narrow-minded symbiotic system. Fools. Content with scraps, subservient to a pitiful race of apes!" "I saw a better way. Actively generate fear among a population. Thanks to ingrained instinctual traits, your kind spreads fear like a virus. Just look at your herd animals... Spook one and all will run in terror!" "So I sow terror, I am terror. Each human I kill sustains me, and grants me much more energy besides. Soon I will be able to spread my fear across your planet. For thousands of years, according to our ritual calendar, I have consumed your kind! Finally I have enough surplus energy to envelop your city in a miasma of terror. A cauldron of panic, releasing an exponential energy spike. Enough for me to consume your world and take to the stars once more!"
"What?!" was all Arven could say as a retort. "That's insane!"
"I could kill you now, of course. The only reason you've resisted so far is that you're not afraid of death. At least, not your own death. It doesn't matter though. You just fear for your friends, and all those who will die if you fail instead." "However the fat bald one is already dead, and I've a schedule to keep. You die tomorrow, the crowning glory, my final kill before the harvest!"
With a final echoing cackle, the woman melted back into the fog. Almost immediately, the fog began to disperse. The last rays of sunshine again broke though the shroud of night, and David and Sue ran to their friend, at last able to find him. Arven lay there, next to the corpse of Tom, full of fear and trepidation, yet resolute. Shaken by events, but stirred to action. Finally, his enemy had a face.
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