Tricky Windy

I shivered in the wind, clinging onto the rope with frozen, white-knuckled hands. The night air bit at my exposed skin, tugging at my open jacket. I should have zipped it up, I thought, listening to the howling wind whistle through the abyss. Too late now.
"Hurry up!" Andrew called down at me. My teeth began to chatter, and I found myself violently wishing that I had stayed in my nice, warm home instead of venturing out on this crazy little adventure.
"It's awfully dark down there," I called up at Andrew. My fingers were beginning to grow numb - no, they already were numb, but now I was beginning to dread the moment when they would inevitably slip, plunging me into the darkness below. I could almost feel the shadows sweeping over me, hungry for another soul to cast into frigid darkness. The wind shifted, and suddenly I could hear the whistling, howling breeze calling my name...
"Of course it's dark down there," Andrew snapped. "It's a howlin' abyss - that's why we're going to explore it."
"It's not natural," I muttered, looking back at the shadow. We - me, Andrew, and Zane - had been out for a run when we had stumbled across the chasm in the cloud - perfectly straight and disorientingly deep, like someone had taken a huge ruler, thrust it far into the cloud, and carved out a large chunk of it, leaving this yawning abyss.
"Are you too afraid?" Andrew asked, and for a second I forgot the chill in a surge of angry heat.
"No," I protested, and proceeded to take several more steps as I rappelled down, down the cloud, into the darkness waiting below me.
And the wind still whispered. "Look up," the voices said. "Look up," and I looked - I couldn't help it. Zane - who was supposed to be securing the rope - was peering over the abyss's ledge, grinning down at me and Andrew. Even from far away, I thought I could make out a wild look in my friend's eye, and were those irises glowing?
"Are you going to come down?" I asked shakily, unnerved. Zane shook his head. I felt a sudden spike of fear.
"Ah, fear," he whispered, almost savoring the word, and his tongue suddenly passed over his lips. I froze, chills bursting all over me. In an instant I thought I could feel ice cold fingers gripping my ankles and hands, monsters reaching out of the shadows, the wind dragging me down and smothering me in darkness. A frantic, terrified burst of terror in my chest urged me to scramble up the rope, but I was petrified - paralyzed. Zane moved his hand over the ledge, and something glinted silver among the shockingly pale fingers. "Thrice speak the words..." he hissed softly, the wind carrying his voice loud and clear to my ears.
The words to a children's play chant danced through my head. When thunder cracks without the rain, when shadows fall on clouds again, when people fear the bloodless stain, the storm shall walk and then shall reign. It was something used to taunt the dark spirits - something only the bravest and most foolish children dared utter.
"Thrice speak the words," Andrew repeated, looking at me with a terrifyingly pale face. And suddenly I had the distinct memory that I had spoken those words before. That - just an hour ago - me, Andrew, and Zane had softly recited the chant. Why not? With just a few weeks until the Fall Harvest, what better way to prove our daring? Had we really done that? Had I really forgotten until now?
And the wind laughed at me. Something terrible had happened - something that lurked on the edges of my memory like a phantom in the night.
"Thrice speak the words," Zane whispered, drawing the silver-glint in his hand across the rope. My heart lurched into my throat as I felt the rope shift slightly. Zane's eyes were shining bright green now - what had happened to my friend? "Now here is your gift." And he suddenly dissipated into a wreath of smoke as the rope split. I was too stunned to speak as my insides skyrocketed, swirling around each other with the force of a tsunami. My fingers were still gripping the rope tightly, and I found himself unable to let go as we plummeted into the cold, smothering darkness.
And yet, somehow I wasn't dead. I straightened, peering into the darkness, feeling like the whispers on the wind would smother the air from my lungs. There came the scrape of stone - how was that possible?
"Gabe?" came Andrew's voice. "Gabe...are you there?"
"Yes," I said. "What happened to Zane?"
"I don't think that was Zane," Andrew said grimly. "We need to get out of here. Follow me."
And suddenly I could see by a faint green light, watched as Andrew stalked away. Unsure what to do, I followed him. Abruptly Andrew stopped, cloak swishing at his feet - when had he put on a cloak? - and gestured to a small hole in the ground that was the source of the green light. A thin rope dropped into the hole, which was just big enough for one person to fit through.
"I - I don't like this," I said, taking an uneasy step back.
"We need that rope," Andrew said. "Go on, take it."
"Why?"
His arm suddenly shot out, gripping my arm with fingers cold as death - cold I could feel even through my jacket. I looked into his eyes, catching the wild gleam, and my heart stalled. "You asked for a gift," he whispered, his pupils thin and eyes green. "And we have given you one fit for the night. Why return such benevolent generosity?"
"I - I..."
"Fool!" and I was thrust through the hole, free falling into a spacious cavern, but with cloud as the walls instead of stone. It was like plunging into the deep - but there was nothing but air and screams and cold green fire. Somehow my fingers grasped the rope, and I swung to a halt, halfway to the ground, staring at the horde of cloaked figures waiting for me below, calling my name, laughing.
"Save us from the night!" I exclaimed.
But only the wind could heard me.
And all it did was laugh.