Abigail stood naked in the waist deep pool of warm water. The 19-year-old blonde watched as her jeans, T-shirt, underwear, shoes, and all the personal possessions she had had on her were put into a black drawstring trashbag and taken out of the stone chamber by a figure in a dark hooded robe. Three women, dressed only in swimsuits, attended to her; two vigorously scrubbed her with sponges and bars of floral-scented soap, as the third washed her hair, massaging the shampoo into her scalp. Such pampering might have been enjoyable, had she not been brought here against her will. What were they planning to do with her? Did she even dare imagine?
Her recollections were fuzzy on how she got here; or for that matter, where "here" was. She remembered being at an outdoor music festival, going to the ladies' room, and then someone grabbing her from behind on her way out. A rag was put over her mouth and nose, a sickly sweet odor, and then blackness.
"Just relax, Sweetie." The woman shampooing her hair said. "Our patron is going to adore you."
The other two smiled and nodded in agreement. When her bathing was finished, they toweled her off, brushed her hair, misted her lightly with some perfume, and put her in a white silken robe. The three women then dried off and donned three dark hooded robes of their own.
The hooded figure from before returned, along with four more. In a deep voice, he said, "It is time, bring her."
The cultists led Abigail through the torch-lit corridors of the underground temple. They came upon an imposing, black marble door, and one of the cultists knocked thrice. As the door opened, Abigail could see little more than darkness beyond. The lead cultist then turned to her and said, "Step through the doorway now."
"Fuck no," Abigail shook her head. "I'm not going in there, and you can't make me."
No sooner did she say those words then the cultists dogpiled her. She tried to fight them but she was outnumbered eight to one, and five of their numbers had an advantage over her in upper body strength. At the end of the struggle, the cultists shoved her inside and the door slammed shut. She tried to run back, she was going to pound on the door with all of her might and demand to be let out; but to her astonishment, the door was no longer there!
Confused, she looked all around her. "What in the Hell?!"
She thought about finding a wall, putting her hand on it and following it until she found an exit, but she was unsure if this place even had walls. For all she knew, the darkness went on forever in all directions, and visibility was so low she could barely even see her own hands held out directly in front of her. On top of all that, she couldn't shake the feeling of eyes upon her, observing and assessing her.
It was then that she turned around and caught sight of a small patch of light in the foreboding dark, like a spotlight for performers on a stage. Not knowing what else she could possibly do under the circumstances, she slowly walked towards it, trembling in fear with each step. The smooth stone floor chilled her bare feet; she imagined it was made of the same black marble as the door. She wished she still had her smartphone; she wished she could call the police, her parents, or just about anyone else to come to her rescue. But even if she had it, what good could it do her? Would she get any bars of signal in here?
"Is anyone in here?" She called out as soon as she stood in the light. "Hello?"
From somewhere in the shadows a voice replied, "My my my, such an exquisite little creature..."
"Who said that?" She asked, startled.
"I did."
A pair of red eyes, glowing like burning coals, appeared in the darkness just outside her little island of brightness. She could barely make out the haunting, otherworldly silhouette the eyes belonged to. With a gasp, she took a step back, desperately trying not to faint. Whatever that thing was loitering at the greying fringes of the light, she certainly didn't relish the thought of being at its mercy.
"Forgive me, my pet." The strange entity said. "I must look an awful fright to you in this form..."
The silhouette and its red eyes faded from view, footfalls echoed in the void, and then a figure stepped forward into the light; a tall man with dark hair, dark eyes, and a handsome if vaguely sinister face. He was impeccably dressed in the blackest of black, as if the shadows themselves were his clothes.
As he came closer, he smiled pleasantly and said, "...Perhaps a less threatening form will put you at ease?"
"Where am I?" Abigail asked as soon as she could muster up the nerve to speak. "And what happened to the door out of here?"
"This place is my personal sanctum," He explained. "It is its own separate dimension, and entirely under my control; no one can enter or leave unless I choose to allow it."
"Okay, so who are you?" she asked. "Hell, what are you?"
"I am the god of primordial darkness, and the sire of all things that dwell in the night and the shadows. I've had many names down through eons strange and immemorial, though my most faithful worshipers know me as Lord Erebus."
"The god of darkness?" Abigail's face turned ashen. "So those weirdos dressed like Death Eaters offered me to you as some kind of virgin sacrifice?"
Erebus looked at her bemused, and then chuckled. "Is that really what you're so worried about?"
She looked at him confused. "Shouldn't I be?"