Shredder 50
Anibel wasn’t sure what to make of the cold.
This realm was unlike anything she had studied, and her repertoire of knowledge was vast. Eddies of sensation and currents of memory snaked around her without purpose or pattern, at least that she could discern. She was dead, by all biological definitions. She had seen her own corpse, a more displeasing sight she had yet to encounter. Yet she carried on. She felt an underlying purpose, a driving force, but the particulars were elusive.
Then there were the visitations. That’s how she thought of the encounters anyway. Some sort of spiritual merging that offered a degree of enlightenment. Her intuition sensed the potential for equally horrific visitations, but she seemed to be avoiding the majority of dark forces for the time being.
She was grateful for Gerard’s beacon. His presence shone like a lighthouse amidst a crashing sea of storms. She could find her way to him when the currents were amicable, and she got the sense that she was getting better at reaching out to him.
She sighed. She hadn’t tried to touch her magic yet. The fear was too great and the need lacking. How would she react if her energies and her life song were beyond her reach? The vast emptiness this summoned was terrifying. There was so much she didn’t know, and she had been a bit smug in her intellectual tower only a few days prior. She shook her head and the memory streams shifted and splintered.
Glancing around she also felt that summoning magic would make her a beacon as well, whether for good or ill was anyone’s guess. It was pondering these thoughts and squinting toward Gerard’s light that caused her to misstep, and she tumbled with disorienting speed into a frigid, empty clearing.