The light filtering into the cells dims to an orange glow, and the scent of smoke and burning meat starts to carry through the air. The doors to every cell simultaneously grind open, and the guards - those not part of the walls of the dungeons - wait to lead the prisoners down the hall and up a set of stairs worn practically ramp-smooth ( Read more... )

The ceiling fan in Dunham's office is not as fascinating as you would think, from the way she's staring at it. She's behind her desk, chair tipped back precariously on two legs, feet on the desk, staring at the fan as it rattles overhead ( Read more... )

It's an hour or so to sundown, and the barracks are full of golden sunlight and long slanting shadows. Harry's standing just outside the barracks walls, in one of those patches of deep late afternoon shadow, staring off in the direction of Tempest's castle with an expression most people who know him well would be deeply concerned about.

Harry ( Read more... )

In the noise of the others leaving to find their missing people, Peter hoped no one would miss him slipping off into the woods in the direction his little all-purpose-communicator-and-map-thing told him Olivia was. Let the rest of them find the others. He was getting Dunham away from creepy scientists for a while ( Read more... )

Cissie's been warned not to leave the barracks by herself, but frankly, she's restless and has never been all that good at listening to vague warnings. ...Or specific warnings, for that matter. She used to throw herself at dangerous things all the time, but that was a long time ago ( Read more... )

As evening approaches, the barracks are greeted to an unfortunate sight- beasts crawling out of the wood, their eyes glowing in the darkness and surrounding the barracks. They don't attack or lunge at the doors, just stand in droves around every possible corner of the little township and stare, waiting.

If you open the gate, they won't rush in, but ( Read more... )

She's gone again. She's gone again, he failed again, and now...

Now he's going to find that thing and find a way to kill it if it's the last thing he does, which it very well might be.

Right now, though, Peter Bishop is trying to drag himself through the springtime mud somewhere in the forest south of the barracks. He has no idea where he is, no ( Read more... )

Slowly, the gold in the haze overhead turns blue, then purple, then fades away, leaving the newcomers below in darkness. The mist at least has faded. The piles stand out in the dark as though holding their own glow, though it doesn't shine beyond the piles and arches. It turns them into sharp-lined sketches done in soft shades of light. ( Read more... )

The thick fog clinging to the ground smells of copper and ozone. It hangs in the air, heavy and motionless, draped over scorched ground, haphazard piles of metal and stone, and the still-unconscious new arrivals. There's a faint golden haze overhead, suggesting the sun might be high overhead, but it's not enough to penetrate the mist ( Read more... )