He stepped back, the natural instinct to escape the unknown that stood before him. The figure before him did not make sense, both in what Cameron saw and what he felt. The black surrounding him was ethereal, unreal, shrouding the room behind him like smoke, covering the figures face and details, like fog clouding a coast from the Captain of a Ship. But then he was falling.
As he stepped back he realised, too late, that there was nothing to step on. He fell back into the abyss, stairs falling from underneath him, as he toppled. Like an old tree in a heavy gale, he fell, and crashed with a thunderous slam against the stair behind him. His body rolled, tumbling without control, falling against the stairs again, before finally coming to a crash on the bottom stair, his legs splayed behind him like a skydiver, his body aching everywhere.
A low groan escapes his lips, as the pain registers, bruises all over his arms and back. He moves his limbs, nothing broken. Supporting his hand underneath him, he pushes his torso, up, and falls backwards against the wall, coughing gently, his head low as he examines his broken body below him. In his periphoral vision, he spies a cloud of black, f0llowed a foot, crushing the bottom stair as the figure descends.
His body tenses, freezing still like a deer in the headlights, his eyes locked upon the foot, unable to form concious thought or reason. A cold bead of sweat runs down his neck. His heart pounds in his throat. His ears prick up, as he hears a rush of air, an intake of breathe.