Those few seconds after Bel threw open the door were frantic and hazy, at least for Kre. His mind worked slower than his eyes, and he could only process the images one at a time.
The first thing that he saw was darkness. A wide expanse of darkness. Though, this darkness was thankfully not dissimilar to the everyday run of the mill darkness that you might find in a windowless room or in the deep woods on a moonless night. It was simply pitch black and full of the unknown.
The second thing he saw was a streak of blue floating off to the right, cutting through the darkness like the first note of a perfectly tuned harp cuts through the silence of an expectant crowd.
The third thing he saw was a blur just next to him, closely following the blue lights. He later realized that it was Kitalia, moving quickly after Bel, as she was told to do. Somehow, his feet began to move, even though his brain had yet to send a message to them. Somehow, instincts had taken over his muscle memory and his feet moved him to follow Kitalia… to follow the blue lights towards safety.
He felt his foot touch down just outside of the door, though he could not see his feet. He remembered glancing down and seeing nothing of the ground or his boots before he recalled the darkness. He looked back up, remembering to look for the lights.
The fourth thing he saw was darkness. This darkness, however, made the first kind of darkness seem blinding by comparison.
It was the kind of darkness that made you think the sun would never again rise or that you had been struck blind.
It was the kind of darkness that tickled the part of the mind that conjures demons and devils from the shadows of a crooked tree limb.
It was the kind of darkness that reached out its inky claws at you, threatening to draw you into its gaping maw and tearing any dream of light from your very soul.
That deeper, inkier darkness lashed out as him as he lamely tried to bring up his arm, as if to protect himself. He remembered being thankful that the arm he raised was the one holding on to the tyrfang, not that he was sure how exactly to attack something as abstract as darkness.
He remembered screaming, although he didn’t remember what he screamed. He simply hoped that it was a manly war cry as opposed to a scream born of terror.
As hazy and as singularly instantaneous as those moments were, they paled in comparison to what he saw next.
The fifth thing he saw was a bright street, lit by the warm rays of the sun. He saw buildings, beautiful and unbroken, their windows glittering in the light and with brightly colored banners waving from them. He saw tall people, striding about in festive clothes, smiling and talking to themselves as they walked along the avenue.
He saw a familiar smile look back at him. The man wearing the smile was wearing the same outfit that they had seen him wearing before, but this time there was no indistinct shifting halo around his frame.
“Hello Kre,” the priest said, still smiling. “Welcome to my home.”