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Pale moonlight crept in from curtain-covered windows in the old farmhouse, bathing the dark night in a gentle white glow. She crept softly across the warped and broken floorboards, hearing them groan in response with every step. Long-dead cobwebs hung from every surface like white moss. The house looked as though it had been abandoned for many years.
Her breath hung in her throat as she took in stale, dusty air. There was death here, in the decaying walls and partially-collapsed thatch roof. She looked up through the small hole in the ceiling to see only a starless night, impossibly black. Movement danced in the corner of her eye and her heart leaped into her throat. She whirled around to find naught but shadow and grayed floorboards.
With quickening breath she ran to the drawn curtains of the large east window and threw them open; she could not swallow at the sight she beheld, eyes wide in fear. Hanging low in the sky was a pure-black sun, burning with all-consuming shadow, haloed by a faint red tinge. It was a dark eclipse, a shadow star, reaching out to consume all light it touched. Tears fell upon her cheek under it's terrible gaze, as tendrils of dark smoke spun out from it to disappear in the cloudless sky.
It came first as a shudder she thought to be her own, then a terrible tremor which shook the foundations of the derelict farmhouse. Old tableware fell to the floor and shattered as the shaking grew in intensity. She cried out and grasped the window frame for support as the glass within exploded outward from the strain.
With a terrible groan of old wood, the roof was ripped away, support beams and blackened thatch flying skywards as though the earth itself had been capsized. Floorboards were torn from their nails and shattered into splinters as they careened skyward. She squeezed her eyes shut as the wind howled around her, tearing apart the farmhouse piece by piece.
All at once the window frame gave way to the pressure, and collapsed into timber and splintered shards. A scream rang out from her throat as she fell upwards, and the darkness rushed in to greet her.
Abigail awoke with a start, covered in cold sweat. She scrambled for the blade resting by her side, yanked it free from its scabbard, and searched about with wild, frantic eyes. Frogs called in the forest night, and her small campfire crackled softly. She swallowed with some difficulty, and set down her blade. Her eyes floated to the black disc-shaped mark adorning her left hand, and fear lingered in the back of her mind.
Outside the gentle glow of her fire, the shadows seemed just a little bit darker than usual.