Prologue Darkness clawed at him, its talons sinking deep, hooking into his heart. Jacob Fisher tried to clear away whatever obstruction prevented his eyes from seeing, but there was nothing. Nothing but darkness, thick as molasses and cold as the heart of the universe. It shrouded him, pressing in on him, and he felt the weight of it against his chest. He could not move or struggle or fight or even scream. And he wanted to scream. Scream for someone. Someone to come to his rescue.

Worse than the darkness though was the silence. The quiet pulsed and throbbed, around him and through him. Nothing-if there was anything around him-moved. Only in the tiny recesses of his mind could he hear anything, his thoughts writhing and struggling as a creature pushes out from the womb. Fears tormented him. Bits of verses and poetry knotted and tangled as he reached for them-as if by grasping them, they could take him away from here, lead him somewhere else, or at least anchor him and keep him from going mad. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here. For hope was absent from this place-if it was a place.

or a time.or somewhere between times and places. The emptiness felt like an enclosed tomb and yet also seemed to stretch on forever. Only a look and a voice, then darkness again, and a silence. A silence that seemed never to end. If he could scream, he doubted he would be heard. For he was alone. He will keep the feet of his saints, and the wicked shall be silent in darkness; for by strength shall no man prevail.

He was no saint. So was this his punishment? Where was he? What was this? Fear seized him. He struggled, against nothing and everything, but it was useless. He could not move. Was he still alive? Trapped in a wooden box and buried six feet underground? With no way to escape, no way to breathe, no way to scratch or claw at the sides, lid, or seams? From somewhere deep inside him came a continuous scream. But it had no outlet, just ricocheted around inside his head and heart, proving his own impotence. Then out of nothing and yet from somewhere beyond came a shriek that pierced his eardrums. With it came pain.

Intense pain, sharp and searing, sliced through him. As the first shriek died away, another chased after it. Each time, as the pain dulled, more replaced it and pounded relentlessly against him. Wave after wave of shrieking and throbbing crashed over him. In that splinter of a moment, Jacob realized something cold shackled his ankle. He aimed to kick out but couldn't as another band slithered around his other ankle, the long, fingerlike strictures icy and rigid. A sensation of forward movement carried him and the rush of wind against his face surprised him. Yet he could see nothing.

There was nothing to hold on to and fight this force. He had to let go.