They never saw the lord of the Shadow Realm again, though Arlan could feel him watching their every move, watching silently behind the dead eyes of the Dardraath that was their guide.

The Soulless led the humans through the blasted land to the edge of a dark, turbulent sea. Whether or not it was the same sea he had encountered on his journey a few days ago, Arlan couldn't tell. He swore he had never seen or even smelled its salty presence from Mergenthaal's castle. Looking back, the Druid was not surprised to note that the obsidian edifice with its finger-like towers had vanished completely in the traveling mist.

Arlan felt Jared stiffen beside him with a sharp intake of breath.

"Great, just great." The youth muttered with a curse.

About twenty paces away, tethered to an ancient post was an equally old but sturdy-looking boat.

"This will take you to the Portal from whence you came," the Dardraath hissed. "The Darkling Sea is harmless, unless of course, you happen to fall into it." Its eyes stared at the youth hungrily, sensing the boy's fear.

Jared gritted his teeth, a sheen of sweat lining his brow. But he managed a defiant smile and said tersely, "Give my compliments to your master, assassin."

The Soulless bowed mockingly, and for a second its dead eyes glittered with intelligence.

Mergenthaal!

Jared shivered inwardly. Without another word, the Dardraath turned away and was swallowed in the swiftly gathering mist.

"What was that all about?" Arlan asked.

Jared glared at the heaving sea, arms wrapped around himself, as if shielding his body from invisible daggers. "He knows me well, knows my weaknesses," he whispered. "Not surprising, isn't it? For I have become him in everything other than name—and once, he was me."

"That is not entirely true, Jared." Arlan laid a hand gently on the tense, slender shoulders. "The very choices you make from here going forward will define who you are." 

Shying away from the contact, the boy whirled to face him. "You don't understand. You know nothing about me--!" He shook his head and lowered his eyes, immediately regretting his outburst.

Arlan waited silently for the youth to get his bearings.

Finally, Jared let out a deep, shaky breath. "Adepts have an aversion to large bodies of water. He knows it all too well. I suppose he wants me to learn the hard way,--yet another one of his damnable tests."

The scarred man scanned the dark, restless waves. There was nothing there that was out of the ordinary. "What do you see?"

Hesitantly, Jared looked back at the churning water. "I see— "

--an ocean of blood-red Power, terrifying in its absolute purity. Seething, coruscating, reaching for him with red-hot tendrils as metal is drawn to a magnet—

The boy shut his eyes and turned away from the vision. "I can't. Not now."

"It's alright, Jared--" Arlan noticed a finger of mist drift before them and over the shore, followed by another. In this fickle plane of existence, they both knew what that meant. Like the fortress and the Soulless and everything else, the sea would disappear.

Swearing under his breath, the Druid glanced at the youth. "There's no help for it. Once the mist thickens, we will lose the Portal. Is there anything I can do? I can Shield you--"

Jared only shook his head. "It won't do any good. Not with Power of this magnitude." He drew another breath, and coughed as if even the very air pained him. "Let's go. Don't worry about me." He added sharply when the Druid hesitated.

The boy walked determinedly toward the boat, which was beached halfway to the shore. He climbed quickly over the side and settled himself in the aft part of the boat. Arlan loosed the tethers, and holding the side of the boat, pushed it out into the water before climbing into the stern. He was almost surprised to find there were no oars, when the craft started to move of its own accord as if guided by an unseen hand.

They sailed steadily into deeper waters, rocked by the swirling, angry waves. The sea felt alive, numerous luminous life forms, large and small, darting under its murky depths.

Holding the sides of the boat to keep himself steady, Arlan watched Jared with growing concern. The boy was huddled in his cloak, hood drawn over his bent head. His hands, clasped tightly about his knees, were white as parchment. An occasional shiver would run over the slender form, as if from cold, or pain.

The Druid crossed over cautiously to where the youth sat. He reached for the boy's arm, shaking him gently. "Jared, are you alright?"

Jared slowly raised his head, and Arlan gasped at the boy's sightless stare, the irises turned completely black, the white face twisted in a grimace of pain.

Calidar's words echoed in Arlan's mind:

'In the Adept's case, their Inner and Outer Senses are one. They See, Hear, and Feel a thousand times more acutely than us—all the time.'

'All the time . . .'

Just as he thought he would fall into the wormhole that was Jared's eyes, the boy blinked once, twice, and roused himself from his stupor. To Arlan's relief, his eyes were back to its usual black-flecked green.

Seeing Arlan's concerned gaze, and realizing that he was leaning too heavily on the older man's outstretched arm, Jared reached with a trembling hand to grip the boat's side. "I'm fine," he whispered hoarsely. "Just awfully tired, but the worst has passed."

The Druid doubted the boy's last remark. The Portal was still out of sight, and Jared was much too pale and on the verge of exhaustion for comfort.

All of a sudden the sea stilled and the wind died. A silence hung over everything, save for the lapping of waves against the boat's side. The boat, however, continued on to its unknown course. Troubled, Arlan used his Sight to scan the horizon.

"Something's wrong...the flows are converging."

Jared held up a hand. "Listen."

A sound, at first faint, gradually growing louder into a continuous roll of thunder, assailed their ears. The sound seemed to be everywhere all at once. Jared pulled the hood off his head and, for the first time since they boarded the craft, looked upon the sea with narrowed eyes.

Arlan stared in the direction of the boy's gaze, gave it a long look, then swore out loud. "Cha'ak's curse, a maelstrom! We have to turn around— " He remembered the sailors from his homeland talk about the rare phenomenon with dread, but he had never actually seen one before, never seen anything so immense—

"No!" Jared's voice broke, from strain, fear, or exhaustion Arlan wasn't sure. "The Portal is right in the middle of it. We have to go through it! It's the only way out of this place."

The Druid's silver-grey eyes glittered dangerously. "But for this madness, I would have thought Mergenthaal would risk everything to keep you alive."

Jared glanced at Arlan tiredly, as if the thought had crossed his mind. "Oh but I will live, Lord Druid," he whispered with a harsh laugh that bordered on madness. "But it won't be for him, or because of him."

The boat moved at an alarming speed, sucked by the swirling vortex. It tilted precariously sideways into the massive, gaping mouth, balanced there for a second, before overturning and throwing them violently into the black, churning water. The last thing Arlan remembered as he reached desperately for Jared, was the boy's face, filled with unmasked terror.