An Encompassing Terror

Nihility.

She stood in an empty expanse. So dark she couldn't even see what was around her. So dark she couldn't even make out the hands in front of her face. She sunk to her knees, sinking into the inky blackness beneath her... it was warm. A sickly warmth that stuck to her fingers in a clammy drool. Her mind contorted, desperately trying to explain the substance. She tried to tear away, falling backwards into the gelatinous swamp. Yet it clung to her, burning into her flesh. Violently dragging her down into its depths.

Her descent felt infinite, her body tumbling through the void, swallowed by the gaping maw of nothingness. The chasm below expanded, yawning wider than reason, and then it formed. A grotesque, undulating mass of shifting flesh and bone. Its surface writhed with an amalgamation of human appendages; faces stretching outward as though gasping for air before retreating back into the chaotic entity, thousands of eyes haunting towards her. 

They bore into her. Shining in the dark, unable to be unseen, twisting past her futilely shut eyelids. Collections of incomprehensible shapes—squirming before her in warped spasms, dissolving back into a formless mass. The creature taunted her, blue eyes gazing at her, accompanied by a soft hum: only to rupture those comforts into thin ribbons of loose flesh. She gagged, her chest heaving, bile forcing its way to her throat. A cacophony of voices surged, not words but guttural moans of anguish and despair. She tried to cover her ears, yet she could no longer find her hands.

She screamed, calling out for anyone, anything, as the monstrous thing pranced around her, engulfing her vision. The Abyss folded in, its darkness smothering her until she felt nothing but cold, absolute silence.

§

Dusk's eyes shot open. She gasped, her lungs aching as though she’d been holding her breath for hours. Sweat drenched her body, and she winced, a sharp pain flaring in her side. She sat upright clutching her ribs, taking a moment to ground herself in the dim light of her room. She had given herself time to think, a grave mistake.

Her gaze fixed on a point in the room where shadows coiled, her pupils wide. There was nothing there, but her mind refused to process the stillness. Her room twisted past familiarity, replaying fragments of the nightmare in scattered bursts. Her jaw tightened. Breaths came in shallow bursts as her fingers twitched against the edges of her bed. 

She swung her legs to the floor, unsteady, stumbling away from her bed. Her movements were erratic, hands brushing against the foreign walls of her home, searching for something to anchor her. Her foot caught on the corner of the small shelf beside her bed, sending a delicate sculpture of polished stone crashing to the floor. The sound of it shattering echoed through her, and she froze, staring at the jagged pieces scattered across the room. 

Her eyes, wide and glassy. They lingered on the shards as though expecting to see them crawl back together. She begged them to. The sight of the ruin pulled her further down. Her hands flew across the floor, trying to squeeze the gift back together; its sharp edges tainting the art with deep crimson. 

It hurt.

Dusk gasped, her voice finally escaping from her throat. She lay still, curled into ball. She lay in a mixture of blood and tears, cradling Pearl's first gift to her. It had been a beautiful sculpture of polished white stone, carefully moulded into none-other than Dusk herself. A treasure that could never be recreated. The cool whisper of her thoughts did their best to comfort her, wrapping around her with a mother's embrace, as if to say everything will be ok.

Dusk peeled herself off the ground, delicately placing the remains of the sculpture back where they belonged. She resolved to take the pieces over to Pearl, as she'd likely be able to reconstruct them. For now though, Dusk decided to visit Quill. He was a free source of positive energy, which Dusk sorely needed at the moment.

§

The walk to Quill’s workspace was mercifully uneventful, though Dusk’s nerves still simmered beneath her calm exterior. Quill greeted her with his usual fervour, eyes glinting with a proud sparkle. Although quietly observant of Dusk's unusually sullen demeanour. 

"Hi Quill." Dusk had muttered out the greeting as though it were the heaviest words she'd ever spoken. She quickly found a free place against the workshop wall, letting herself rest.

Quill steadily found a spot across from her, giving her as much space as she needed. Unsure whether or not he should be the one to speak first. He decided to wait.

Dusk's hands rested uneasily on her lap. The silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the faint hum of machines in the background. She exhaled shakily, her eyes dropping to the floor. For a moment, she didn’t speak, as if trying to gather the storm of thoughts swirling within her. 

“I've had a pretty bad day...” she began. “Actually, the last couple days have been pretty bad. You know the cavern I plan to explore... and the extra food supplies I needed...” She paused briefly between each sentence, giving herself time to breathe. "I had a fall..." Her hand instinctively touched her side, where the injury still ached. "It was like everything froze... my life, my memories, all of it just flashed before me... I thought I was done for."

Quill’s face softened. He didn’t interrupt, only nodding for her to continue.

“Then, last night,” Dusk’s voice wavered. “I had this nightmare. No—it was worse, like something crawled into my head and twisted my fears into something... something...” She stopped, her breathing uneven. "I was falling, just falling, forever, and something... something was there. Something wrong, so, so wrong, it didn’t make sense. I couldn’t close my eyes, I couldn't run... I couldn't do anything..."

She paused, struggling to keep her composure. “When I woke up, it didn’t feel like I’d escaped. It’s like that thing followed me... like it’s still, watching."

Quill leaned back slightly, his hand brushing his chin in thought. Keeping his expression calm and neutral as Dusk spoke.

“And now,” Dusk continued, voice harder now, “I’m sitting here, questioning everything. The cave terrifies me. What if that’s what waits for me down there? What if I step into the darkness, and there’s no coming back? I know I told April we’d go, but now... I don’t even know if I can. It feels stupid—reckless. But at the same time... I hate this feeling of not knowing, like there's something there, hiding just out of sight. I hate it.”

Quill gave her a moment to let the words settle, then leaned forward. “I'll start by saying, I can’t tell you what to do. It’s your choice. If it’s too much, if it’s something you can’t face, you don’t have to go. Your life doesn't have to revolve around it."

Dusk blinked at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone.

“But,” Quill added, his lips curving into a faint smile, “if you’re still unsure, maybe give yourself time to figure it out. No pressure. Test out the gear I've made for you. You don’t even have to take it seriously. Just mess around with it—have fun. Maybe that’ll help clear your head.”

Dusk’s lips twitched into what might have been the beginning of a smile, though it never fully formed. She looked away, hands still fidgeting slightly in her lap.

“One more thing,” Quill said, his voice gentler now. “Talk to Pearl. She gets you in a way I don’t, and you know she’ll be honest with you. And maybe talk to April too. Let her know where you’re at. You don’t have to go into this abyss just because you promised her. She’s your friend; she’ll understand.”

Dusk nodded, a small motion that felt heavier than it should have. She didn’t say anything at first, just stared at the cluttered surface of Quill’s worktable. Then, quietly, she said, “Thanks, Quill.”

“Anytime,” he replied, leaning back. “Just take it easy, alright?”

Dusk stood up collecting the finished gear off the table, the weight on her shoulders feeling a little less crushing. Quill watched her go, his gaze lingering on her as she disappeared through the workshop door. Then, with a soft sigh he decided to spend the rest of his day lying down.

§

Dusk made her way to April’s home, navigating through the usual lifeless pathways of Thermoa. April’s home stood out even among Thermoa’s eclectic architecture. A chaotic patchwork of metal plates and salvaged machinery, it looked like it might collapse under its own weight at any moment. Dusk pushed the door open cautiously. Inside, the space was equally peculiar—cluttered with trinkets, half-finished amalgamations, and mismatched furniture.

She found April sprawled on a thin mattress, her snores punctuating the otherwise quiet room. Relieved to avoid conversation, Dusk carefully set the gear down beside her. She slipped out as silently as she’d entered, deciding not to wake her.

With nothing pressing left to do, Dusk decided to visit Pearl. Silently wandering over, as she mulled over the broken sculpture in her head. She entered quietly, watching as Pearl, perched on her small stool, worked intently on a sculpture. This time, it was a larger piece—a detailed arm, with colourful veins and tendons carved with care.

Dusk stood for a moment, entranced by Pearl’s movements, until Pearl noticed her. A warm smile spread across her face.

“Dusk,” she said, setting down her tools. “You look… tense. What’s wrong?”

Dusk hesitated, the nightmare flickering to life. She pushed it aside. “I just... had a bad day.”

Pearl’s smile faltered, replaced with concern. She stepped forward and wrapped Dusk in a gentle hug. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, Quill helped me think through it.” Dusk said, her voice softer than usual.

They sat together, discussing the events of the past couple days in detail. Pearl listened intently but refrained from pressing further, her worry evident. Before Dusk left, Pearl gently urged her to stay the night, a gesture of quiet support that Dusk found herself accepting. Having found a spare mattress nearby, Dusk made herself at home alongside Pearl's bed. Finally finding a moment to rest.

§

The following morning, renewed by Pearl’s kindness, Dusk began practicing with Quill’s equipment. The grappling hook proved to be the most challenging. On her first attempt to scale a high platform, the hook misfired, sending her tumbling back to the ground. She winced, her bruised ribs protesting, but she got up and tried again.

The laser knife needed little practice, easily gliding through the metal as though it weren't even there. The extendable staff was just as intuitive. Its sharp tip pierced through thin metal sheets, and its length provided a surprising advantage for crossing small gaps. 

The pickaxes tested her upper body strength. Hanging from a vertical sheet of metal, she could swing one into place, then the other, painstakingly inching upward. By the time she reached the top, her arms trembled, but a sense of accomplishment bloomed in her chest.

Weeks passed in this routine of trial and error, the fear from her nightmare fading slightly under the weight of her determination. Every stumble and misstep brought her closer to mastery, her mind focused not on the horrors of the Abyss but on the exhilaration of overcoming her own limitations.

For now, that was enough.