Atonia Nevarraine didn’t believe it at first, but sure as the night fell, there was an obsidian gate marker laying in the field before them. They had made it.

  Excitement had spread to the group, giving them a second wind of fortitude as they started to doubletime towards the gate. Excited conversations broke through the squad, talking about everything from what to do with the extra time they’d have while the other squads sailed across the ocean to dinner plans. Food wasn’t really an option in the Penumbra, so they had been marching on empty stomachs for a while. Still, of the twenty-one souls that had set out, there had been only one death and two casualties. A far cry better than any of them had expected, or in some cases even hoped.

  Atonia spared a glance at their leader, Sergeant Duskborn, who had spent the last half-hour of marching nursing the two healing potions they had brought and trying to keep pace. She was bleeding under all that armor, the red had seeped through a few of the cracks, but they couldn’t remove the plate to try and treat the wounds. Slowly bleeding was far less likely to kill her than direct exposure to the plane.

  So the recruits had worked in shifts to help support the juggernaut in plate. And though Sergeant Duskbourn could talk, she wasn’t currently smiling and was visibly struggling to stay standing while everyone else was basking in the good cheer

  When they reached the marker, the group broke to let the Sergeant through, Atonia working as a living crutch as the two of them walked forward together. Even this early in her training, Atonia knew about the markers. They were a repository of energy and a series of magical items one could activate like a wand to make a portal back home. Most of the time, you traveled into the Penumbra with a Sergeant or someone from the senior leadership who could just pull people back into the Physical world on their own. But when events, like today, happened that removed that option the Knights needed a failsafe to get everyone home. All this required was a Knight who knew how to activate them and you could take everyone home.

  All eyes were on Sergeant Duskborn as she and Atonia stood over the stone. Atonia waited for some magical gestures or another wave of dark essence that had punched them through the shadespawn earlier, but the Sergeant just stood there.

  Behind them, the voices slowly turned from excited to confusion. Before the panic could settle in, Atonia turned to her and whispered, “Sergeant? Is something the matter?”

  Sergeant Duskborn didn’t respond, her eyes still fixed on the stone, and her face grim. Curious, Atonia turned to face the stone.

  It looked just like any other slab of obsidian Atonia had ever seen, but given the frown on her Sergeant’s face, something had to be wrong. Her eyes roamed the stone looking for a hint, a clue, something that would let her know what was wrong. She couldn’t find it. Confused and concerned, she nudged the Sergeant with her hip.

  “Sergeant?” she asked again.

  Sergeant Duskborn startled and then shook her head. “The stone’s out of power. I’m not sure if it’s negligence or something the tower did. I’m just trying to figure out how to give it enough power to get us home.”

  Atonia nodded, relief rushing through her limbs. It was just a small hiccup. Everything was going to work out.

  “Should I tell them?” Atonia asked, tilting her head to the crowd.

  The Sergeant shook her head, “No, I’ve got it. You’ve done enough.”

  Atonia wanted to laugh at the idea. This was a woman who had nearly killed herself marching twenty recruits across these shadowed plains so that she didn’t have to leave eight behind. She had believed in them, embarrassed herself to keep their morale high, and the only reason they had made it through was telling her that she had done enough? But, those same actions had earned Cecilia enough respect that Atonia wasn’t going to argue with her.

  It took another moment, but eventually the Sergeant Duskborn turned around. The sergeant had a smooth voice, when she wasn’t growling, but now it was ragged and hoarse. Raw in a way two hours of singing hadn’t done.

  “Right,” she said with a cough. Phlegm flew, and she straightened to continue, “The gatestone is drained. I”ll have to power it manually. Step quick once it’s open, because I won’t be able to hold it for long.”

  There were murmurs as people grabbed their packs and tightened their straps, ready to move.

  Sergeant Duskborn went to turn and then fell to the ground, collapsing onto her knees. A collective gasp went up, but the Sergeant just waved them off. “Just tired.” she whispered, in what Atonia thought was supposed to be comforting. Instead, it just made Atonia realize how much of a toll the Penumbra had taken.

  A gray shroud enveloped the Sergeants’s arms as she drew in essence. Dots of black started to appear on her neck, swiftly growing together into black lines before Cecilia laid her hands on the stone. It pulsed once, then again. Slowly, a portal grew, revealing a small patch of green on the other side. Once the hole was big enough, people started to rush through. One at a time to start, but as the portal continued to grow, two or three. There was no argument, no questions, no jostling for motion. Just an orderly retreat to reality. Atonia let herself relax and breathe, looking back at the Sergeant.

  Sergeant Duskborn’s face was nearly consumed by the black lines, but her teeth were clenched and the gate stone continued to pulse as power was poured into it. She knew the Sergeant was impressive, but the sheer amount of power pouring off of her shocked Atonia. There was just so much Penumbral energy. In fact, the Sergeant was pouring so much power into the stone that it was starting to pour through the cracks in the obsidian.

  Atonia blinked. There wasn’t supposed to be cracks in the stone. She hadn’t done much learning on magic items, but everything she knew about enchanted items told her that cracks in the object were bad. She looked at the black lines, crisscrossing the Sergeant’s face now and cracking open. They seemed to be moving faster now.

  “Atonia,” Sergeant Duskborn rasped, “I can’t hold this much longer. Once you’re through, get someone from the citadel, have them come back for me.”

  Atonia could feel the color draining from her face. She wanted them to leave her behind? That was unacceptable, “Ma’am, you can’t ask…”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “I’m not asking,” Sergeant Duskborn managed, blood splattering with every word, “I’m ordering you. Now, get going.”

  Atonia gulped, and then nodded. Trusting the Sergeant had gotten her this far, what was one more step of faith? With a nod and a sharp salute, she followed the last of the squad through the portal.

  It was so vibrantly bright it hurt. The pale green-yellow of the brush had more expressive color than she ever thought she’d see and the sun bore down with a warmth than she hadn’t known she had been missing. She wanted to kiss the dirt, brown as it was, for the simple fact that it wasn’t gray. In the distance, home. A citadel, no more than a fifteen minute walk away. So many beautiful things.

  But more important than all that, she had sixteen elves looking at her with concern across their face.

  “Where’s the Sergeant?” Dontonos asked, worry plain in his voice.

  Atonia wanted to sound confident, wanted to be collected like the Sergeant had been, but could do it. Not yet. Her voice cracking, she confessed, “The gate was cracked. She, she had to stay behind to make sure we all got out.”

  There concerned glances and murmurs of discontent. No one was happy with leaving her behind.

  “Look,” she said, trying to stop the outrage from welling, “Look. She’s still there, waiting for extraction. All we need to do is get it. Form up, we’re getting her back from there if we have to batter down the citadel’s door down to do it.”

  Grim faced and determined they marched towards the citadel with fire in their hearts.

  ***********************************************************************************

  Once Atonia had made it through the gate, Cecilia let the Penumbra’s energies go and sat back. She couldn’t feel the cold, or the cracked skin, or even the blood. She knew that her feedback manifested as frostbite-like specks, but this was the first time the loss of sensation typically associated with frostbite had struck. It should have worried her, but all she could feel was pride. She had done it. Made it across the ocean and to the gate marker with only one loss.

  She couldn’t think of the last time someone had done that, if ever.

  Pleased with herself, she settled down to wait. The only struggle would be in staying awake long enough for the rescue to come. That shouldn’t be so hard. She was happy, and it was a good day. Though, she couldn’t make her face quite into a smile, that sounded like it would take too much energy. In a minute she’d have to get up and start walking to stay awake, but for now she could sit and relish in the accomplishment.

  “You did a great thing today,” said a soft voice to her right.

  It was surprising, and as much as Cecilia’s instincts said she should turn, there was no way she could manage that. So, instead, she slowly repositioned herself, twisting in inches and found a pale white human dressed in funeral blacks and a veil. Her pale moonlight locks blew behind her as if lifted by a wind despite the stillness of the Penumbra. Cecilia had never been a particularly faithful person, but even she recognized the Lady of Hereafter.

  “Many thanks,” Cecilia said with a nod of her head. It didn’t feel right, but it took her a moment to figure out why. Her armor hadn’t shifted with the motion. With only the slightest amount of concern she looked down and found her body pale and translucent, standing over another clad in black plate.

  “Oh,” Cecilia said softly.

  “Oh,” Death agreed.

  There was a moment of silence, looking at the body that had previously been Cecilia.

  “What now?” Cecilia eventually asked.

  “Well,” Death incarnate said, with a faint smile, “In recognition of all you’ve done, I have a proposition for you.”

  **************************************************************************

  The Captain had complained when Atonia insisted on coming with, but the Marshal of the Greasil Citadel had overwritten his complaints and ordered him to bring three of the recruits with him. Atonia didn’t lack for volunteers, it wasn’t hard to cut the list down to three. Herself, due to her field leadership position, and Anvars and Erreid, the only two recruits from Cecilia’s squad that were able to walk under their own power. They set out not fifteen minutes after the recruits had made it to the citadel.

  The walk back to the thinning was agonizing, Atonia spent each moment wondering if they would be fast enough. Sergeant Duskborn was tough, but seven hours of direct Penumbra exposure was risky even for the hardiest and most experienced knights. It took all her remaining willpower not to push the captain to rush forward. Logically, she knew that he was moving as fast as he could, but all it felt like was too slow.

  She didn’t even wait for the portal to fully form before rushing through, ready to help carry the Sergeant out. There was yelling behind her, but Atonia would deal with that later. Right now, the Sergeant needed help.

  But the area around the gate stone was empty.

  No body, no armor, nothing. It was like she had been swallowed by the Penumbra.

  “SERGEANT!” she yelled. “SERGEANT DUSKBORN!”

  But the Penumbra swallowed her shouts too.

  By the time Captain Devella came through, Atonia had searched the surrounding area, and was itching to start cresting the hills.

  “Captain Devella,” she said, rounding on the man, “She’s not here. No sign of her armor either. What’s going on.” And then, after a bloated pause, she added, “Sir?”

  Devella, stern faced, looked around and then sniffed the air. “Might be Shadespawn showed up and she had to run. Might be tried to punch through and ended up somewhere in the fields between the citadel and here.”

  “Is she dead?” Atonia asked, her voice wavering.

  Devella’s face softened, “Unlikely. Penumbra might vanish a body, but the obsidian in her armor and sword would still be here. We’ll spread out and find her.”

  Atonia nodded and went towards the hills she had been eyeing not too long ago, “Right, I’ll start over here.”

  Devella grabbed her shoulder before she even took a step, “No, you’re going to search on the other side of the gate. Sergeant Duskborn fought tooth and nail to get you here and I’m not going to risk it on a search and rescue. See if you can find her on that side, and we’ll look in here.”

  *************************************************************************************************

  Five hours later, Captain Devella was forced to call the search party off for the night. Even with rotating knights in and out of the Penumbra, they had their limits. He took his tired, and complaining, group back to the citadel. The only way he was able to move the irritable recruits was with the promise that they’d be part of the search party tomorrow.

  Privately, he knew that there wasn’t much chance of finding Sergeant Duskborn. They had searched in the Penumbra and the physical world every nook and cranny within a centate for her, and found no sign of her even existing. If it wasn’t for the fact that none of the recruits would’ve been able to power the stone, he might’ve thought the search some elaborate prank or ruse.

  Instead, he reported to the Marshal, who put the name Cecilia Duskborn on the official rolls as ‘Missing in Action’. When they didn’t find her over the next week, the classification was updated to include ‘Possibly Deceased.’

  Which is how it stayed for the next 513 years.