When faced with pure darkness, people can react in a variety of different ways. Some cower in fear, some plead for their lives, while others are simply paralyzed to the spot. Glen, on the other hand, went straight to punching the old woman in the face.
The woman flew across the landing, crashed into the bedroom door, and fell to the floor with her limbs resting at odd angles. Feeling a touch guilty (evil or not, she just punched an old woman), Glen took a step forward to make sure she was okay.
Black tendrils burst from the floor of the landing, the thick ink-like appendages coiling like massive tentacles before sweeping through the air and knocking Glen down the stairs. The Dreamer bounced off the stairs twice before crashing to the old tiles of the kitchen floor.
She was up in a second, rune flaring as she called Headache to her. Unfortunately, it didn't work.
"Crap." Glen said, realizing just how bad of a situation she was in.
The old woman was standing again, her dress and veil perfectly in place despite Glen's assault. Glen backed away as the old woman slowly walked down the stairs, more tendrils erupting from the stairs and handrails. They didn't break through the walls; it was more like they grew from them.
Glen glanced around the kitchen for something to use as a weapon. Kitchen utensils may not seem much of a weapon against a living embodiment of darkness, but Glen could easily alter the object, turning them into a more substantial weapon. Unfortunately, there were no visible kitchen utensils on the nearby counters … though the sink was half-full of dirty dishwater. Her hand dove into the murky water in the kitchen sink and fished around until her fingers felt something metal.
"Aha!" Glen pulled the object from the sink and held it in front of her, Anti-ka Maru glowing as she focused her power into making the tool larger.
The old woman raised an eyebrow at the giant fork now in Glen's hands. It wasn't completely without menace now that it was the size of a spear, but the graceful etching on the fork handle didn't help matters.
"You're wasting your time, dear." The old woman said, still approaching.
"Uh-huh." Glen swung the fork at one of the dark tentacles that waved just a bit too close for her comfort. The tentacle wrapped around the tines of the fork and tugged at it. It stopped tugging all too soon as Glen channeled her radiance through the improvised weapon, causing it to glow brightly. There was a slight hissing sound as the tentacle quickly slipped back, giving the old woman pause.
"All right." Glen said, holding the fork at the ready. Where am I?"
"You're in my home." The woman said, the slight smile on her lips more than just a bit unnerving. "Underneath Cauldron Lake."
"Beneath the lake." Glen said, feeling the blood drain from her face as she remembered the darkness hiding within the cabin. She was surrounded by ichor, more than even she felt comfortable trying to dispel.
"Your arrival was something of a surprise." The old woman continued as nonchalantly as she might speak of what she was preparing for supper. "But not unwelcome."
Glen let out a small laugh, mostly at the thought of trying to explain inter-dimensional travel to an embodiment of darkness. "Yeah, well … if you show me the way out, I'll be on my way."
"Oh, no … I insist. I could use the help of a creator such as yourself. A … builder."
Tendrils dove at Glen. She fended them off as well as she could, but she was so focused on those coming from around the old woman that she didn't realize more were forming along the counter. The tendrils wrapped around her arms, forcing her to drop the fork to the ground with a loud clatter.
She channeled her inner radiance, hoping that it would be enough to break the grasp. To her credit, it almost was; the smaller tendrils cracked away to ash as Glen's skin glowed brightly. The larger ones showed signs of large light-filled cracks running along them.
It wasn't enough. Glen realized that there was just too much of the ichor, or whatever force powered it. It might not be able to fully take her, but she didn't have the power to purge it … not alone, anyway.
"Now, now." The old woman said, walking up to Glen and smiling creepily at her. "We have much work to do."
"Flattered." Glen said, still struggling to channel more radiance despite the futility of her situation, "But I've already got stuff to do."
"And once you've assisted me, you will be free to return to your 'stuff'." The old woman paused. "But where are my manners? We have not yet been introduced. What is your name?"
Glen didn't respond. Giving dark powers personal information never worked out well, and Glen wasn't about to make its job easy for it.
Frowning slightly, the old woman took a few more steps toward Glen and slowly raised her hand to the side of Glen's face. Glen flinched at the cold touch of the woman's hands, but found herself unable to avoid the dark pits that were her eyes. She could feel the dark tendrils probing her mind until finding the information it wanted.
"Glenda Adams." The woman whispered. "But you prefer Glen …"
Her eyes widened. "What is … a Dreamer?"
Glen fought desperately to free herself, but the insidious threads seemed to slip through her mental defenses with little effort. When the old woman's eyes went wide, Glen realized with a sinking feeling in her stomach that she'd found what she'd sought.
"A creator with the power to alter reality … not just here, but anywhere. That is incredible, Miss Glen. Yes, you and I have much to talk about."
Glen let out a gasp as the woman pulled her hand back, retracting the dark tendrils from her mind. Bowing her head slightly, the old woman said, "But where are my manners? I know your name, so it is only fair you know mine. I am Barbara Jagger, wife of Thomas Zane."
"Zane?" Glen managed to say, struggling to recollect her thoughts.
"A great poet … and a great Creator." Miss Jagger's smile turned to a look of annoyance. "A great disappointment as well. Still, I am patient; with the aid of yourself and Mister Wake, we'll soon change the world."
"Oh, yeah." Glen said. "'Cause I totally am going to help you."
"You will, eventually," Miss Jagger said, a cold smile on her face. "Oh, don't look at me like that; my freedom, after all, is your freedom. Once I get what I want, you can go back to your friends."
"My friends?" Glen said.
Miss Jagger pointed behind Glen. The tendrils holding the Dreamer turned her to face the window behind the sink, where all was dark … for a few moments. The darkness soon dissipated to show UNDR-Papyrus, Claudia, and Jinks lying on the moonlit grass on the shore of Cauldron lake. Claudia was the first to come to, looking a bit dazed, but no worse for wear.
"Ugh … what the hell?" She said, sitting up. She looked at Jinks with concern for a moment before punching his shoulder.
"Ow." Jinks said, clutching his shoulder.
"Good, you're awake." Claudia turned to UNDR-Papyrus. "How about you, Skele-dude?"
"Never better." UNDR-Papyrus said, eye-sockets drooping as he rose shakily to his feet. "I often enjoy waking up face-down in wild plant life."
"Good." Claudia looked around, her smile fading as she no doubt noticed that they were missing someone. "Glen?"
"Claudia?" Glen said before it occurred to her that Claudia had no way of hearing her. Sure enough, Claudia didn't respond, at least not to Glen.
"A living skeleton." Miss Jagger said, shaking her head. "Either there have been some interesting developments on the surface, or you are much further from home than I initially suspected."
Glen didn't respond; Claudia and Jinks were Warehouse agents and Papyrus was … helpful. If she stalled long enough, they'd think of something; Glen had to fight as much as she could. If she couldn't free herself, she needed to stall the ichor and its spokeswoman as much as possible.
"Nothing to say?" Miss Jagger said, raising an eyebrow at Glen. "Very well."
The tendrils released Glen, dropping her to the ground. Glen pushed herself up from the ground in time to see Barbara Jagger walking up the stairs.
"I will give you some time to consider your position. Know this, however; you will help me succeed, one way or the other. The continued safety of your friends and how much of yourself remains depends on you."
With that, Miss Jagger opened the door to Alan Wake's room and walked inside, closing the door behind her.
"Damn." Glen said, punching the floor in frustration. She didn't want to admit it, but the power of the ichor in such a concentrated form was too much for her alone. Maybe if she had some lumite, she could use the mineral to amplify her radiance, but her supply was in Headache, which somehow ended up on the surface. She couldn't understand how that happened, when every other reality shift saw her gear shifting along with her.
A clicking sound roused Glen from her thoughts. She looked around for the source before spotting it; in the space between the fridge and the counter, a single red eye glowed.
"Bubba!" Glen said before clamping her hands around her mouth. She looked up at the second floor, but the door to Alan Wake's room remained closed.
Sighing with relief, Glen hurried over to Bubba. The little skriever slowly approached, apparently realizing that silence was needed.
"Bubba, how did you get here?"
The skriever raised up on its hind legs, revealing the small lumite medallion on his underside.
"Clever little guy!" Glen said with a grin, "Look, do you think you can get back to the surface?" Hearing another affirmative chirp, Glen said, "Okay; I need you to let the others know I'm down here. I'm guessing you caught all of my little talk with Barbara Jagger?" Another affirmative chirp. "Good. All right; go show the others so they know how much crap I've landed in. Hopefully Claudia can whip up something to get me outta here."
Snapping her fingers, Glen said, "Find Headache; I've got some lumite in there. If you can't find that, you might have to scan around; with this much ichor, there's got to be some nearby, or everyone'd be infected."
Bubba let out another chirp and tilted his camera slightly before chirping again, this time in a vaguely questioning way.
"I can't get out on my own, but maybe that's for the best. If Jagger can get into my mind, maybe I can do a little reconnaissance of my own and figure out just what the ichor is. Don't bother waiting for me, though; the sooner you get me out of here, the better. Okay? Now you'd better hurry before Jagger returns."
With a final chirp, Bubba skittered back into the crack between the refrigerator and the counter. Glen turned back to the stairwell, cracking her knuckles and saying, "Okay, let's make the most of what time I've got."
