Only moments ago, he had been surrounded by a cacophony of screams and sobs, but now, the silence somehow seemed more deafening. Where was Ma? And Da? And what about Gal? Casca looked around for the telltale light of his twin’s flame, but found nothing but blackness. “Gal…?” he tried tentatively, unable to ignore the rising sense of dread in his chest.
“Da?”
“MA!”
He didn’t want to be a crybaby (since as far as he knew, that was the worst thing one could be), but Casca was beginning to panic. Where was he, anyway? This place didn’t smell familiar. It didn’t feel familiar either; in fact, it was giving him the tinglies. And it was so quiet—not in the good way, where it would’ve been fun to yell and go romping through destroying the tranquility with his big voice; it was the kind of quiet that a spider is when it’s hunting, the kind of quiet so scary that it sucked up his voice and made him quiet too.
On shaking legs, the boy peered into the darkness. His eyes welled and overflowed, but he didn’t make a sound.
So many of the small ones that have come through the Portal have been so delectable for the sharp shadows and neon glows. So, at the appearance of another through the manic god’s gateway, the lights and shades swarm like ants around you.