Fantasy story beginning

Standing alone as the fading sun washed over her pale skin. Serrah stared into the approaching fog, her hands clasped tightly around the pendent hanging from her neck.
Shivering she stared as the fog grew nearer and nearer, the sun fading into darkness. Serrah understood what this meant now, her subtle shivering turned to violent shaking as she ran inside her cabin and quickly slammed the door.
Sliding the wooden plank across the door she turned, desperately looking for another object to slow the approaching evil.
Tears began filling her eyes as she pushed her weathered bed in front of the door. ‘This is it’ she told herself, ‘I’m finished, Malakai is coming for me’. Heavy banging was penetrating her ears as the door was creaking under the pressure of something heavy. Burying herself in the corner of her one room cabin, her breaths were quickening as fear was taking her.
Finally the door caved in and the bed was trampled by an abomination, it twisted its head and stared at Serrah. Screaming uncontrollably Serrah braced herself as the abomination charged, arms outstretched.

Atraps sat on the pale green grass with his legs crossed, taking in the morning sun. As the rays soothed his body from the freezing night he had time to reflect. As a small boy, Atraps had been brought up as an only child, exploring every cave and all the flowered meadows with the white and purple flowers. His mother had been a nurse at the local medical hut and she loved him dearly. His father had been a solider, marching to war every quarter moon to serve for king and honour. During the summer breaks from the war, Atraps’ father would take him out on a hunt, teaching him of the wildlife and how to live outdoors. When Atraps was nearing the age of sixteen, his father was slain in the battle of Noxbourgh. Mourning the death of his father, Atraps fled his home and battled his way through the nearby forest to a camping spot he had discovered with his father. Days passed as he lived in the small lean-to and fed himself on all the wild gophers and deer. One day while skinning a rabbit, it occurred to him that he wasn’t the only one suffering; he had left his mother alone when she needed him the most. Setting off he was determined to catch her as she rose to pick from the orchards in the morning.
As he approached the house he noticed an unusual amount of fog. Swinging his arms through the mist, in a hope to disperse it, he could hardly see the cabin. “Mum!” he cried franticly. He staggered forward, moving blinding into the fog. “Mum, where are you?” he cried again panic taking him. He had slowly battled his way through the fog to the front veranda. As he stepped onto the wooden boards, the front door swung violently open and a swaying entity, arm outstretched was standing in front of him. Its face was scarred and misshapen, long wispy hair billowed around its skeletal features. A long draping shawl was about its shoulders and its thin dress was ripped and charred. “Mum?” Atraps stuttered, “Is that you?” The figures jaw fell revealing a hole through its scull. As the figure was approaching its head was lolled from side to side as if broken. “Mmaalaakai” the entity hissed, “Mmaalaakai”. Atraps stepped backwards as the figure approached but the mist had hardened itself and formed a wall behind him. Atraps began to quiver and shake, the figure almost in reach of his body. Blood was pounding in his heart and throbbing through his veins, like an orchestra playing to the beat of his emotions. The figure reached him and gasped his neck with its bony fingers. Atraps gasped and spluttered, pushing the hand from around his neck. The figure shrieked but Atraps ripped the arm from his neck and the bone disintegrated between his fingers. Opening his hand, he stood dumbfounded, as there was nothing more than a pile of dust. Atraps looked up into the figure as it withered and collapsed before his eyes. Pushing passed the corpse he hurried into the house. The stench of death greeted his nose and the sound of coarse breathing sounded his ears.
Atraps turned his head from side to side, trying to pin point where the sound was coming from. The house had changed a lot since he had left, grown damp and badly maintained. The breathing grew into a steady growl, as he approached the bedroom. Apon entering the bedroom he noticed the door laying unhinged on the floor and his mothers bed crumbled beneath his feet. Atraps breathing grew longer and deeper as he feared what was lurking in this cold, dark abyss. Bursting out of the darkness the beast jumped landing cat-like in front of Atraps, bright yellow eyes fixed apon his prey. Atraps meant to scream but no sound erupted from his mouth. The beast snarled, raising itself upright, poised for the strike. ‘Stop!’ yelled a sharp voice and the beast stood frozen, eyes filled with evil intent. Atraps wheeled around to see where the voice had come from, finding his eyes met with the eyes of a stranger wearing a long maroon robe, dirty and ragged. His eyes were crystal blue and his face looked gnarled and gaunt. A fading skullcap stood astride of his thin grey hair and a sword hung from his waist. Drawing his sword the stranger neared the fiend; eyes wide with shock Atraps fell to the floor. Panting as if the air was trying to escape him, Atraps watched as the stranger pulled the sword over his head. Muttering a rite under his breath the stranger brought the sword down into the beast.