She awoke with a start, flashes of the strange dreams still echoing in her head. Seeking, searching, probing, twisting, the rush of feeling robbing her of breath and forcing her to sit up, to focus on the oppressive heat of the night and the droning sound of the insects outside the small hut to bring her back into her own corporeal body.

There was something out there in the darkness, calling to her. It whispered to her of devotion, of ancient battles lost and won, and of power greater than she could possibly conceive. Master.

“Impossible,â€? she muttered, putting the call out of her mind. She had been living on the outskirt of the small village for months, recording their stories and traditions. Their superstitious folklore had simply gone to her head.

Suddenly she felt suffocated by the humid night air inside the small dwelling. Breathing was becoming more difficult, and she fought down the spiking panic welling up in her chest. If only she could get to the shore! Gasping now, she ran.