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Chapter Text

The sky was dark, and the house was empty. Completely and utterly empty. After the whirlwind of investigation that came after Duncan’s death, everyone had left. Only Macbeth and Lady Macbeth remained. The bodies of the guards still lay on the stairs, their blood forming a lazy river that wound around them.

“We should get rid of them.” Lady Macbeth said, nodding at the bodies.

Macbeth shuddered despite himself. The castle was so empty now, long hallways warping into an infinite blackness. He was dizzy. The blood was still dripping off the stairs where the guards lay.

“Yes. I’ll do that soon.”

“Has Duncan’s body been taken?”

Macbeth shook his head.

“Not yet.”

“Well, deal with it- and we need to get our story straight, they’ll be back soon enough.”

Macbeth nodded, and reluctantly began to drag the limp bodies of the guards across the floor, with the intention of abandoning them behind the castle. Out of sight, out of mind. He moved slowly through the hallway, pulling the body along, footsteps echoing on the floors. The hallway dragged on, and on, and on. The darkness was thick and heavy, and Macbeth plodded on, and on, and on, always expecting to reach the end.

But there was no end. Not anymore. He couldn’t get out. The back door was zooming away from him, putting miles and miles of dark hallway between them. He sighed, and dropped the guard's arm. He was tired… That was why he couldn’t seem to walk through the hallway. The hallway had not changed, he was stressed, and disoriented. That was why it felt so far, so… wrong. He plodded back towards the atrium where Lady Macbeth was waiting by the doorway, her dress falling sharply to the ground. She looked so far away…

But he reached her. Eventually, he did reach her.

“I’ll do it tomorrow…”

“Very well.”

She nodded sharply, and swept away from him, leaving Macbeth alone in the atrium. He peered down the hallway hesitantly. He didn’t want to see it. It was too long, the door was too far away. But that couldn’t be right, it simply wasn’t possible. Buildings didn’t change. But he knew something was wrong; it was probably just tiredness, or stress. That’s why the hallway warped like it did. That’s why he couldn’t even see where the guards now lay.

Lady Macbeth had seen it too. But she wasn’t about to venture down without a light . So she set off to find a candle. She didn’t want to explore with her husband; he was in no state. She wanted to walk down, wrapped in darkness, to that frame of light that hovered so very far away.

She walked further and further, until her feet started to ache. Where was her room?

She passed the room Duncan had lain in. It was empty now, but blood still stained the bedding. She stared, transfixed, as the blood seemed to move, to become alive. Twisting and folding into something dense and empty; a hole in the floor filled with blood. The blood they had spilt. She backed away quickly, turning away from the room, and running further into her castle.

She did eventually reach her room. It was comforting, the four walls, exactly where they should be, the bed taking up as much space as it usually did. She scooped up a box of matches, and carefully lit one and set a small lamp ablaze, causing flickering shadows to dance along the walls. The walls seemed to push and pull with the light, closing in before backing up to leave too much space around her, like a man heaving his dying breath…

Lady Macbeth stood up straight, and left the room. Her feet ached as she slowly made her way back to the atrium, where her husband- and the hallway- awaited her.

Chapter Text

Macbeth was still in the atrium, pacing frantically. The sun had begun to rise tentatively over the hills, lighting up the castle.

“I can see them…” He murmured, as Lady Macbeth approached him.

“Who?”

“Them. They’ve come back already.” He gestured restlessly at the door.

Lady Macbeth walked toward the door, opened it, and looked around anxiously. She could, if she squinted, see figures poised on a far off hill… Or was that a shadow… She shook her head. It must be them, they must know, of course they wouldn’t get away with it…

She turned away, letting the door fall close. The lamp was still lit, and she walked slowly towards the entrance to the hallway. Macbeth watched her, but made no movement to follow her. She continued to walk, further, and further into the heavy black of the hallway.

Why was it so dark?

Her candle was stifled by the dense shadows, and she set it down, accepting that it wouldn’t be lighting anything. The hall was long and winding… It hadn’t been winding before. Lady Macbeth placed a hand on the wall. It was cold. The rectangle of light that had been the doorway to the atrium shrunk behind her. She could see Macbeth now looking out the front door at the mountains, rapt.

She walked deeper into the hall, her hand still on the wall. Occasionally- every few paces- she felt her hand slipping into emptiness. Another door, to another hallway, splitting off from the main one. All this space. Space that should not- could not- exist. Something in her compelled her forward. She wanted to escape the accusing eyes of the mountain… Maybe if she walked in deep enough, she could shake the crawling feeling of their eyes on her.

She didn’t. In fact, the more corners she turned, the deeper into the labyrinth of corridors she got, the more certain she was that something was… perceiving her. Threatening or not, something could see her. Every breath, every tremor of the hand, something saw her.

Macbeth was still in the atrium, still frozen in the front doorway, eyes glued to the horizon. Eventually, with great effort, he tore his eyes away from the distant figures, and looked back toward the hallway where his wife had disappeared.

She’s been gone for a while, he realised.

Everything was a bit hazy… but time had definitely passed.

How long had he been awake?

He’d lost track.

The sun was beginning to set again, lighting up the sky. Macbeth was still staring into the hallway. His wife had disappeared into the darkness. It was as though she had been absorbed by it. He could see no silhouette, no hint of movement.

Macbeth wanted to stay, keep watching the hill. They could be here any minute, if he looked away. He could be caught off guard… But maybe, if he followed her into the hallway, he could wait them out. So he walked forward, crossed the threshold, and set off to find her.

When he had last come down this way, with the guards, he could see the exit door. It was far away, but he could see that small rectangle of light. Now, there was nothing. Just blackness. And- he suddenly realised- more hallways, branching off from the first. He felt someone’s eyes on him, and whirled around, expecting soldiers. But to his horror, he saw nothing. The doorway was gone. The atrium was gone. There was no way out.