Robbed of much of his independence by fear and strange circumstance, Herbert followed Dzel, surrendering his fate to her completely. She was safety; she had experience and understanding. And guns. 

One hand felt heavy. He looked down at it, at the revolver he held. Eyes narrowed. When had that got there? It was sleek yet familiar, unlike many of those other modern weapons that Dzel carried. Herbert had a few of those slung over his shoulders, but he did not trust them; their weight did not reassure him, did not put power back in his hands.

He knew something was wrong; he could feel the hairline fractures in his psyche spreading like a spider’s silk, but he also knew he could do nothing to stop it. He was trapped in this place, his mind breaking under the stress. He could feel his thoughts scatter as he tried to form them, his ego all but dissolved now. Such a frail mind. 

The floor passed quickly beneath his feet. It seemed to fall in and out of focus, almost as though it was shifting, but Herbert knew that could not be the case. 

As the sounds of conflict crept closer, Dzel spoke. That voice... It… no, it was Dzel’s, merely a difference in her inflection. Yes, that was it. He barely knew her; he hadn’t even noticed the true shade of her eyes, or the streaks of red in her hair. Her words reassured. She was safety. She was safety. She was…

The burst of gunfire echoed thunder inside Herbert’s skull. Red. He brought his hands up to his ears and the reverberations faded. The gun was cool on his ear lobe. 

Tristan. Why? They had found him, but, why this? Was he dead? No, no. Maybe. Dying? Who knew; the rules of this place were beyond the strange.

He watched another gun raise. Perhaps a moment or two passed before he realised it was held by his own hand.


“What is going on?” Somebody that might have been him asked. Desperation and dread coiled around his insides, yet none of this made its way to his face. Completely emotionless, Herbert had spoken in monotone and was now looking at the others with a blank expression, down the barrel of  a gun.