[center][h3] [/h3][/center][h3][hr][color=#82786E]Brandon Unicorn[/color][/h3][hr][indent] [/indent]
The sound of silence gave Brandon hope. The knights had heard him, and he would have help soon. But his relief left as easily as it came; the sound of clanking armor, faster and louder than before, echoed at him as his vision wavered, and shadows danced on the walls, taunting him. No. They were shadows of people—men, moving away from him, their pace faster and more determined than his.

Urging his aching body along, Brandon half ran, half stumbled down the next stretch of the tunnel, managing until he couldn’t. His body screamed in pained protest, and he fell against the wall beside him, propped up by an arm and an unwillingness to touch the rot-littered ground. 

A dripping sound came to his attention, and he located it after a beat, realizing that it’d come from directly below him. He was standing over a puddle, which couldn’t have all been his blood, but he was jolted from his thoughts by the puddle when it started bubbling. Stumbling back, Brandon watched from two steps away as the writhing black pool slowly calmed, then fell still. The renewed silence encouraged him to step forward again, peering at the pool, and he froze. A figure, bald, pale, and smiling, stared back at him, gesturing for him to approach. What held Brandon still, though, was the figure’s eyes, which glowed gold, as if touched by Elrath’s light. It was clearly dark magic, a demonic ploy of some sort, but at the moment Brandon was desperate for help, and a foolish hope rekindled in his mind as he stared at the figure in the black.

A crack from above him prompted his attention, and he glanced up in time to see a layer of fine marble miss him, pattering onto the floor beside him. As if summoned by the sound, a writhing mass of insects extracted itself from a nearby corpse, skittering and squelching in protest, the sounds fading out as a banner lit up in flames, casting the room into a bright brown. A metallic thud called his attention then, and he looked behind him to the top of the stairs to see a helmet rolling down the steps, hitting each step with renewed vigor as it picked up momentum, coming at Brandon. An alarmed glance down showed that the figure was still there, smiling, watching, their eyes a haunting, sickening gold, beckoning him closer as the sound of burning cloth and writhing masses and clanking metal grew louder and louder and—

It was all too much for Brandon. His weariness gave way to fear, and he heaved a breath, pulling himself against the wall and stumbling, walking, [i]running[/i] forward best he could. Each step sent a shock of pain through his body, the clattering of his armor threatening to trip him over at any second, but still he ran towards the light, devils, ghosts, and darkness on his heels. Bravery was the last thought on his mind as he reached for the light ahead, panic in his veins.