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It was at that moment, though, that the sinister clouds parted and the pallid moon shewed its sickly radiance upon us once more. Or rather, would have shewn, as it was horrifically bisected by the ominous bulk of that blackest minaret of stone: the Citadel. In our panicked flight through the swamp, we had not realized how near it had become, and now we lay directly in its nigh-palpable shadow. A spectral chill filled the air, leeching what warmth remained in our muck-sodden clothes. In the darkness, the lights of the steam yacht glowed feebly, showing that it was not merely escaping, but rather making directly for that dreadful basalt spire. A faint, tremulous hope emerged in my chest: though they would certainly reach the base of the Citadel first, it was still within our power to pursue. But what then?
I voiced this fear, and for a moment received no reply. Inspector Vakarian nodded, but did not speak, gasping as he swept the oars through the inky water. The Cossack Urdnot merely grunted angrily, still glaring over the waves back at the shore where the cultists floundered in thwarted fury, their ululating cries for our blood fading in the distance. My former student looked nigh-overcome, shivering and staring at nothing in particular. I feared then, and still do today for the state of her nerves, sorely tested as they were by the terrible events of that eldritch night. Despair threatened once more to overwhelm me, my silent outrage against the bitterness of the cosmos nearly spent until I heard my name spoken. Of my travelling companions, it was finally Miss Zorah who spoke:
“Shepard, there must be something in the Book of Ilos. And if not, then perhaps we…”
She did not finish, though it seemed there must be more that she desired to say. Perhaps she could not force the terrible reality of the situation past those bloodless, shrouded lips. Yet, it seemed there was a hopeful lilt in her voice, as if some other solution was there to be presented. What other alternative beyond the emergence of those unspeakably ancient nightmares eluded my horror-wracked consciousness, though, and I would have shouted my despondency at her, such was the maddening hopelessness that filled me. However, raising a sallow hand she touched my cheek, the febrile heat of her skin startling me from my miserable state.
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