Iximaz couldn't really hear anything in the room, but she still knew something was there.

It only made itself known occasionally, but it was definitely present. Ever since she'd been thrown in the dungeon by the legions of the Dread Clown, she'd felt wind where there should be none and touches across her shoulder when nothing else was here. It was just her, all alone, exactly the way her nemesis wanted it, the presence of the entity notwithstanding.

Her eyes were unused to the pitch darkness of the cell, for there were no windows or torches left. Navigating by touch, she crawled to the wall and stayed there, venturing into the corner at a snail's pace once her hands found the boundary of her prison. She stayed there for a while, until she felt a hand upon her shoulder.

She couldn't help it. She screamed, scrambled to her feet, tripped forward, fell, screamed again as those hands brushed over her again, but now they gripped hard, hauling her to her feet and dragging her back against the wall from behind, but her hands and body felt only the damp stone beneath the castles and-

And then she remembered, as cold, earthy-smelling breath washed over her cheek from behind her and made her gag. She remembered where she had to be, what her mission had been, why the Dread Clown had built her fortress here...

On Mahe, the largest of the Seychelles.