Afraid of the strangers amongst the mist and the sudden death of Elandria, Ewan can barely collect his thoughts. He can feel it. The eyes still watching him from the haze. The cold of this changed atmosphere pricks at Ewan's skin. He is scared, confused, but mostly, vulnerable. Realizing this, Ewan understands what he has to do, the only thing he can do. Jump into the deep, forbidding chasm that has wounded his most sacred place. No. There could be anything down there, waiting for him to make a mistake. Or, there could be nothing at all. Maybe Ewan would fall forever. Ewan rubbed his arms with frustration and fear. He couldn't see anything but the crack and the mist. He couldn't do it. He couldn't jump. It was just too risky. Ewan would take his chances in the new world, above ground. As he turned around to take his first uneasy step, a dark gray hand shot out of the mist. The long, bony, knotted fingers barely brushed against Ewan's shirt. Startled, Ewan took a step back, breathing heavy and fast with the icy air piercing his lungs. He could feel the edge of the chasm at the back of his feet and knew he was lucky to be balanced. Before Ewan had time to blink, the hand shot out again, much harder and much faster. It thudded against Ewan's chest and for a moment he couldn't breathe. Ewan felt the edge slip from under his feet and he was falling fast. Falling. Into the deep, dark abyss.