Pteropus vampyrus, commonly known as the flying fox. A species of a giant bat, more generally located in the warmer regions of the world.

Which was most likely why I hadn't managed to find any.

I thought there’d be an abundance of the winged mammals (not specifically Pteropus vampyrus, of course, they just happened to be my favourite), and I found it curious there was no evidence of the little beasties anywhere.

No droppings. Or, more scientifically, respectively, guano. Especially considering where I was...

... And that was hog-tied feet-first and head-down from the cavern ceiling.

Perhaps it was the gallons of blood rushing to my head or the disorienting lack of light, but up here, the ground below looked to be no more than a polished sea of pure onyx. Uncommon in a cave deep in the forest, but then, as was the absence of bats.

Another peculiar notion was the singular candle peeking out from the dark. A flame of blue fire—also uncommon—electric in its stillness against the water-slicked, jagged wall.

Much like myself, dampness hung in the air.

Stale.

Unpleasant.

A festering hive of hidden mould with a killer's touch. I understood now why there were no bats.

Despite the lack of apparent entrances, a breath of wind pushed against my dangling body. A chill bit the exposed skin of my ankles as I spun an inch to the left. Luckily, my captor had the decency to tuck the hem of my fur-lined coat in the band of my trousers so that, at least, I wouldn't die of hypothermia before the excess blood had time to sever my head from my neck.

And by the gods, I could feel that was coming—a pounding headache, numb arms, a tingling in my legs, and a growing pit in my stomach. To panic usually wasn't really in my forte, but...

“HELP!” I howled. My plea scratched against my throat, clawing just as helpless as I was to get out. “HELP! GET ME DOWN!”

Echoes resounded like ripples on the water—a wave of noise that drowned the pin-drop silence, if only for a moment. My very own echolocation. Funny. However, I wasn't a bat, so it was no help at all.

I screamed until my voice became no more (about five minutes or so), and lightheadedness removed the pounding from my skull.

Peaceful.

A weightlessness denied by gravity. A calmness denied by man. Perhaps it wasn't so awful up here, and if I just closed my...

Footsteps thumped like a procession drum.

My heart quickened. Blurred, my eyes widened, and I searched the blue light, looking for a break in the still darkness.

A shadow appeared, solid black, a figure somehow darker, bolder than the surrounding pitch of the cave.

The footsteps halted, its two boots—feet?—curved like gaping, hollow eyes.

It was strange. Even in my semi-catatonic state, I could tell there was something not quite... Natural... About the person below me (and there was something definitely amiss in their head for keeping me held captive.)

Blue light struck the ground. Reflective. A vibrant jewel immortalised in the glossy mirror of the onyx floor. But the figure, the light, it seemed unable to touch—a black hole, void of light, yet consuming it all the same.

As I said, strange.

“Down,” I croaked, and the ground spun in a pirouette—or perhaps that was me. “Please.” My eyes fluttered, heavy. I could no longer feel my toes.

“Not... Yet,” came the reply, smooth in its delivery, yet malicious in its tone; a shard of sharp flint aimed to strike.

“Why?” was all I could manage. Pathetic.

The figure shimmered, crackling like old tv static. “You’re not...,” it hissed, “ripe.”

Well damn...