A Season of Darkness (II)

Posted on Sat 15th Dec, 2018 @ 10:41am by Commander Jasmine Collins-Keller & Commander Paul Graves PsyD & Lieutenant Commander Alora Baro & Khellian s'Siedhri MD & Elizabeth Anderson M.D.

949 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Oblivion
Location: Warehouse 13, Cargo Space 780
Timeline: MD 21, 2340

Previously, on Starbase 109:

The glowing glyphs continued to circle and build the spiral higher around the singer, growing more brightly with each word until they flared so brightly the cargo space disappeared. When those present could see again, they stood on a dirt road in a dark wood. Dawn cleared her throat. "My name is not Toto, and we have not arrived in Kansas."

And now, the continuation!

Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled, and then another, until it sounded like all the dark woods around them were full of wolves. Dawn Addams, now tall enough that she stood head and shoulders above the tallest of her companions, smiled reassuringly. "None of this is what it seems. Your collective minds are generating the scenery, filtering the experience so that you can understand it. Do not let go of each other's hands, and do not impinge the circle." She gestured at the ground, and the circle of glyphs and the seven rhomboids remained there, still glowing faintly. Addams began to walk down the road, the circle following along with her. Everyone knew that, in a holodeck, they never moved from the center, however much it might feel as though they were making progress. Here, that concept was clearly apparent, as each of the participants felt that they were standing still, and Addams stayed within the circle, within the ring of her companions, but the scenery flowed by at a brisk rate.

Khellian and Makila wore identical expressions of wonder as they gazed out beyond the glyphs. Khellian wondered in passing how long he would see such symbols in his dreams.

Whatever the animals calling around them were, they sounded similar to the wolves Damion recalled distantly hearing during his survival training, but in greater numbers and much louder. He held Elizabeth's hand in one of his and a young Vulcan woman's--or was she Romulan?--in the other. He couldn't see the sky overhead and decided that was a good thing. He would take it as given that the trees provided a canopy of leaves and inquire no further. He did not, however, believe that he was in the warehouse any longer. His body might be, but his mind was not.

Feeling Damion's hand in hers was the anchor Elizabeth chose as she began recording the impressions. She didn't know if it would be her perceptions that were recorded, or reality, and that would be an interesting thing to discover. How artificial was she, presuming that whatever was happening, whoever was in control of it could distinguish between her "mind" and the minds around her?

And then, The Wolf.

He deserved the capital letters. He lay across the road, sphinx-like, his head turned toward them. His fur was black, a black so deep and real he seemed an embodiment of night and terror. A ribbon wrapped the wolf in such a way that it would tighten against itself should he attempt to move. His great head turned to regard the group. "Grandmother Grief," it said, a growl of menace and hunger.

"Son of Tangles," the Witch returned the greeting, politely. "Why do you bar our way?"

"Bound by traitorous friend, I can do no other." The wolf raised its head, demonstrating how the ribbon tightened around its face and throat. After a moment of strain, it relaxed again.

"This feels like an Orb experience," Lanis said in a low voice, "where everything is symbols or representations of ideas." He studied the trapped wolf, wondering if there was any sort of metaphor to be gleaned from him besides the obvious--a powerful being that was trapped.

Baro tried to keep her mouth from falling open as she was whisked about even as she stayed in place, holding on to the ones to either side of her. She agreed with Lanis's statement, though she'd never personally had one they were an accepted part of her culture. She watched and waited for instruction from Ms. Addams as she watched the interaction with the Wolf. She wondered if they were just supposed to take off the ribbon or if there were more to it. She thought there had to be more, there usually was in the land of symbols.

Jasmine felt Adam squeeze her hand tightly and smiled. "I'm pretty sure we're safe." She was trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince her husband. She was trying to understand the story that was unfolding in front of her. From what she'd gathered so far, the blame set on the shoulders of one but was tangled in a web of deceit or hidden in shadows but Dawn Addams 'the grandmother of grief' must be holding tight to whatever the secret was.

"If you yet had your chicken legs," The Wolf taunted, "you could but step over me."

"I haven't lived there in a long time," Addams answered. "A very long time indeed. Besides... they were spider legs."

The Wolf's eyes flicked to the circle. "And you've replaced them with little mortals. Come, little mortals: free me, and free yourselves."

"Do not," the Witch countered, "unless what you wish to free yourselves from is your current existence. The Wolf was bound because he could not refrain from eating everything."

The Wolf snarled. "If you journey with her, you'd best hope and pray that you make it safe back to your own world."

"We shall have to take the more difficult path," Addams concluded. She turned to walk around The Wolf, and a new path appeared, marked by what seemed to be the head of a one-eyed Santa Claus mounted on a sharpened peppermint stick.

 

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