The strange landscape, bounded by fog, was not actually
abnormal, considering its location, high in the Andes. The blue moss,
the weird trees; they were strange, but possible. Even the seven
native girls were a normal part of the scene. It was the sense of an
alien presence that caused my terror--a fear of the unknown....

As the newly "possessed" girl rose, I turned and fled, deathly sick,
feeling caught in the grip of nightmare. Once I stumbled and fell. As
I scrambled wildly to my feet I looked back.

The girl was watching me, her face tiny and far away. Then, suddenly,
abruptly it was close. She stood within a few feet of me! I had not
moved nor seen her move, but we were all close together again--the
seven girls and I....

Hypnosis? Something of that sort. She had drawn me back to her, my
mind blacked out and unresisting. I could not move. I could only stand
motionless while that Alien being dwelling within human flesh reached
out and thrust frigid fingers into my soul. I could feel my mind laid
open, spread out like a map before the inhuman gaze that scanned it.
It was blasphemous and shameful, and I could not move or resist!

I was flung aside as the psychic grip that held me relaxed. I could
not think clearly. That remote delving into my brain had made me
blind, sick, frantic. I remember running....

But I remember very little of what followed. There are vague pictures
of blue moss and twisted trees, of coiling fog that wrapped itself
about me, trying futilely to hold me back. And always there was the
sense of a dark and nameless horror just beyond vision, hidden from
me--though I was not hidden from its eyeless gaze!

I remember reaching the wall of fog, saw it loomed before me, plunged
into it, raced through cold grayness, snow crunching beneath my boots.
I recall emerging again into that misty valley of Abaddon....

When I regained complete consciousness I was with Lhar.

A coolness as of limpid water moved through my mind, cleansing it,
washing away the horror, soothing and comforting me. I was lying on my
back looking up at an arabesque pattern of blue and saffron;
gray-silver light filtered through a lacy, filigree. I was still weak
but the blind terror no longer gripped me.

I was inside a hut formed by the trunks of one of the banyan-like
trees. Slowly, weakly I rose on one elbow. The room was empty except
for a curious flower that grew from the dirt floor beside me. I looked
at it dazedly.