Sarachan. Or, to give him his full title, Sarachan The Endless. He was tall, dark. Hair flowed like an endless waterfall to his waist, jet black and p...ker straight. He seemed to suck the light into him, the air blurring and twisting as he moved towards Brentt, the grass parting as he approached. His long raincoat flapped in the wind, slower and more deliberately than it should have. Deep within his eyesocket, the setting sun flared in a blood-red pinpoint. "Walk with me..." A gentle command,. I rotate until I'm facing upward as the grey fog forms and swirls beneath me. Soon there is a smooth coldness beneath my head, back and legs, which can only be the metal table.From the corner of my eye, I see the fog has become denser, adopting a recognizable form. It's a person, a spirit, or perhaps a demon in the form of a woman, a nude woman. She's standing beside the table and seems solid, not an illusion. Her appearance puts her in her thirties or early forties, although it's hard to. More

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