by deathman [Reviews - 58]

Printer Chapter or Story
  • Teen
  • Explicit Violence
  • Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Het, Horror, Romance

The Doctor continued to stand, paralysed with fear, for a moment. Then he turned, fast as lightning. He whipped out the sonic screwdriver and pointed it at the crack between the TARDIS doors. Blue light lashed from the glowing, bulbous tip…

But the Dark One was ready. With a flick of his hand the screwdriver was torn from the Doctor’s grip. It flew through the air and landed with a soft thump at the Dark One’s feet. The warlord lifted one hobnailed boot and stamped on the device with a sickening crunch, and when the Dark One lifted his foot once more, the screwdriver was a mangled, broken, fizzling tube, bereft of life and power.

Rose eyed the Doctor, in utter despair. He slumped against the TARDIS doors, and let himself slide down the dark blue wooden surface until he hit the ground, his face cadaverous, his eyes staring hopelessly ahead.

‘Well, go on then,’ he spoke, weakly. ‘Whatever you’re going to do now.’

The Dark One chuckled. ‘Well, for a start I want to know how you escaped from the clutches of the Szaborgs. It seemed like they were never going to let you go.’

‘But they did.’ The Doctor’s voice regained a little of its former strength, and he smiled widely, if half-heartedly. ‘Did you miss me?’

The warlord seemed to appreciate the Doctor’s sense of humour. He tilted back his helmeted head and laughed. Rose was stiff and alert beside the TARDIS, her hands clenched and clammy with nervous sweat and streaks of blood from the wound on her arm.

‘You are funny, Doctor. But you’re still going to die.’

Sophia groaned her pain out to the world, trapped beneath the fallen trunk of the tree that the Dark One had toppled. Her body was paralysed and inert, her wounds bleeding freely — but her mind was spinning. Who was this Dark One? Why did he want to kill them? What was the voice inside her? And, perhaps most importantly, how come Rose also saw the light at the end of the tunnel in her dreams?

Sophia, having only death to look forward to in the physical world, sank deep into her own mind, swimming in the gentle, drifting depths of her subconscious, reaching out as swift, shimmering memories floated past.

She recalled the last time she had had the dream — a few weeks ago. The dreams were infrequent and were overshadowed by the more regular and previously more threatening rhyme visions — but they still came. They always contained rhymes as well, Sophia remembered, smiling slightly, and then wincing as a wave of hot, pulsing pain washed over her. What was it with her and rhymes? Usually she dismissed it as a quirk of her species, but whenever she thought about it on a deeper level, she knew that there was more to it than that — a truth she was not yet ready to accept, let alone dwell on.

Sophia let memories flow across her mind in the same way that blood was creeping across her matted fur. The thoughts soothed her, and Sophia felt the complex network of muscle and bone beneath her sodden skin sinking deeper into a gentle posture. Her eyelids slid shut. In the darkness of her subconscious everything was clearer and cooler, there was no hard heat pressing down on her, no stinging of cuts and wounds. Just the night.

In that second of complete peace, the dream entered Sophia’s brain, that unique cellular code which switched her to another world keying itself into neural computers, and into her head beat a slow, sinuous melody.

It’s the light at the end of the tunnel
And the storm in the blazing of heights
The rain has come down in the mountains
Forty days and forty nights

As the rhyme reached its conclusion, Sophia knew that something was happening. Something bad. The background tune had gone, and there was nothing in her head all of a sudden. Nothing at all except a presence, looming, threatening.

An image flashed across Sophia’s soul — an image of a dark wolf, snarling, its mouth curled around yellowing teeth, eyes white as the snow that twinkled around it. In one of its bristling claws it clutched the moon. Sophia watched as the hand squeezed, a crazy, shattered conflagration of flickering moonlight whirled around the creature. Its feral smile widened — its eyes were alive with sharp intelligence. It loomed towards her, grinning silently. With one brutal clench of ebony claws, the moon stopped shining and the wolf lunged…

It filled her like black, swelling juice pouring into the jug of her soul… smoke sizzled from her mouth, and her eyes ignited.

And, incredibly, a second rhyme was forced into her head by unseen hands.

Born in the Void, in the swirling womb
Chained in the Void, in the dark and the gloom
Free from the Void, to rise from his tomb
Back in the Void, to ponder his doom

Lord of destruction, bringer of night, remover of hope and eraser of light

The Battle of Balance raged on for a year
The darkness lived in eternal fear
With the song of Sunradin in his ear
He was bound never to reappear

Lord of destruction, bringer of night, remover of hope and eraser of light

He walks in time, bound by song
Wrapped in the shadows for ages long
You think he’s dead? Then you’re wrong
The Great Destroyer of Worlds lives on

Lord of destruction, bringer of night, remover of hope and eraser of light

And, with that final ominous note, the same internal hands that had fed her the rhyme picked up the soul jug by the handle, and tossed it. Sophia flashed to a mixed, insane world between dreams and reality, she saw the soul jug flitting across the air, she had four eyes, one pair white and one black, and through them both she watched dizzily as the jug shattered into a million pieces on the surface of the tree trunk pinning her to the ground, she saw the juice slop out thickly, eating into the wood, she screamed as her vision swirled… the wolf was bounding at her, its claws and teeth slicing, the moon a dark, limp sphere in its hand, it was a tornado of fur…

The tree trunk dissolved as the last of Sophia’s spirit was banished. In her stead, looming tall and undiluted upon the trembling earth, was a white-eyed, black-haired girl, resembling Sophia but obviously another person, claws as long as knives, teeth glinting like swords in the sunlight.

Black Wolf had risen again.