Escobar stood at the head of the pass, snow swirling around him. Lifting his massive axe, he rested it on his shoulder and looked at his daughter, who nodded and hefted her sword.

"Ready?"

"You're sure we have to come this way Father?"

"We have no choice. The Paladin has summonsed us. He is the voice of the Source."

"Are we really all that remain?"

"It would appear so Alendra. Esta too has passed to join your mother. Now, remember, nothing here is real, the Dream Pass is nothing more than fragments of reality, it cannot hurt you."

"I suspect that's what he thought too," muttered the younger woman pointing to a skeleton huddled against the cliff.

Escobar ignored the pile of bones and armour, and carried on. "Ward your mind, close your eyes, use your remaining senses. Warriors we!" he shouted and raised his axe dramatically.

Alendra rolled her eyes and repeated the mantra with a great deal less enthusiasm than her giant of a father. She followed the man into the pass and watched as darkness enveloped his armour clad form, like ink flowing over a rock. Taking a deep breath she followed.

Shadows whispered as the darkness swamped her; all she could see was the void. She closed her eyes as her father had taught her, but despite having no sight, visions assailed her: past battles, fragmented dreams of others, strange places, stranger creatures. Her father; old, grey and decrepit hobbled toward her, bloody gore dripping from a massive rent in his armour. The eyeless corpse of her mother floated past, morphing into a Soul Stealer as it moaned through her consciousness. Then her sister Esta paused in front of her unseeing eyes, her body opening to birth a wraith through a bloody gash in her stomach, long dead eyes glowing with the malevolent force of the Dark Lord, Braemon. On she trudged, firmly gripping her sword, the iron cold against her skin, a stark reminder of reality. Dark voices whispered obscenity in her ears, visions of the future of the Realm drifted past her eyes, and she watched helplessly as the Stealers chased down the last of the People; watched as the sun died, darkness descended and Braemon strode the soil laughing in the midst of chaos.

The warmth of the sun on her face brought her out of her dark stasis and dried the tears that stood on her cheeks. She looked over at her father and pretended not to notice the silvery tracks down his face as he stood overlooking the Shale Valleys before them, instead busying herself with some supplies.

As she rummaged in her pack, she felt his reassuring hand on her shoulder. "A few more days Alendra, and then we will see what the Paladin has to say. With luck we'll not need to come this way again..."