The Age of Solace: The Silver Wolf

Chapter 56: Children of the Crevasse

"So..." A dark voice sounded. "You two have finally arrived..."

Syrah was startled at the voice and sat bolt upright. She instinctively grabbed for her scythe only to find nothing there. It was also then that she noticed something odd about her left side... Despite the fear to look, she knew that she would have to. Taking the leap, she forced herself to look upon her severed arm. She gasped in fear, both at its absence and at the shadowy tendrils that came from the stump in place of blood.

Even more startling was the lack of pain. She simply felt... nothing. Her arm, it was gone forever. There was no hope of healing from such a terrible wound. She wondered if she would die as a result. The loss was already taking a toll on her, making her feel as though everything were hopeless.

'What am I going to do?' Syrah sobbed within the confines of her mind. 'How am I going to fight? How am I going to..."

She broke there, not having the strength to continue down that line of thought. But she was not stupid. Syrah knew that it would prove difficult to so much as dress herself, let alone kill a demon or abyssal creature. Her whole life, she had been bred to be a warrior. She developed her powers early on, which set her on her path of determination. Syrah's one goal in life was to be the greatest, to serve as a Blade of Corvin in whatever way she could throughout her life. Yet now... she wondered if she was even capable.

Syrah did not care where she was, how she got there, or even how to leave. As she dwelled on her loss, she found herself caring less and less about everything that entered her mind. All she wanted to do was lay there. However, she did take notice the striking similarity that the place she woke up within was to the altar they had seemingly left. It was in much worse shape, even after Socrariel's attack, and was devoid of all color. And while Syrah did not particularly care about her location or the voice, there was another that was present who had.

"Who are you?" A second voice called.

Syrah looked passively to see that it was only Stella there. While she was briefly overjoyed to see that she was okay, there was a feeling of foreboding that plagued her mind. She felt no happiness, no pain... nothing. She settled for sitting there silently, grieving her loss while she still could not feel it. She gave no damn for the tendrils any longer, nor did she give a damn for the strange place she found herself within. And she especially gave no damn about the voice that sounded.

"Pitiful humans, relying on names to identify to whom which they are speaking..." The voice, which sounded to be feminine to Syrah, despite its rasp and darkness, spoke. "I go by Krail to those who are attached to such obscene traditions."

"What do you want?" Stella asked threateningly, her blades forming and casting light.

Syrah was too far gone to care about the black silhouette that was their guest. In fact, she was too far gone to notice that Stella was having trouble giving her blades form. As the figure approached, it proved to be humanoid in shape, though its fingers and toes ended in grievous looking claws. There were twisted horns coming from its head, and it wore what appeared to be flayed wrap and burnt armor. The being appeared to have no skin, looking as though it were crafted from shadow and... something else... Yet, Syrah did not care about it at all, and simply stared blankly.

"I am a wraith, and I mean you no harm." Krail spoke, showing off her fangs and fixing her shadowy gaze towards Syrah. "On behalf of my kin, I am here to ask for your help."
"What?" Stella jumped back, caught off-guard.

"Our world is opposite to yours, and Empyrean." Krail explained. "It is difficult for us to leave this place, and even harder to remain in your world. The Crevasse is our one true home, and now we can no longer call it that. It has invaders, invaders that are your enemies as much as they are ours."