Philip and Martin went to the room containing Philip's Story Book and went inside. Martin glanced at Philip as the older Guardian stared at the book. "We don't have to do this, you know," Martin said. "You could just go to the Guardians and tell them Merlin's plans. Chances are, they'd reward you."

Philip shrugged, a tiny gesture. "And then what? Watch people die, because I refused to act? I'd be sentencing them to unending torture. I feel like Merlin's plan is the only way to go."

"Mind you, Merlin might be in it for himself," Martin said thoughtfully. "He's not exactly the most reliable of people, at least this version of him. My parents had constant arguments about whether or not to trust him. He's sneaky, conniving, and thinks he deserves better. He could be taking advantage of you."

"On the other hand, he's rebelling with the rest of The Story, and I'll be able to make sure he keeps it fair for them," Philip said. "I don't know. I just don't. Every time I try and find a reason to back out, I find two more to stay in. I guess I'm just stuck with this."

"Well, if you're decided, then," Martin replied, "let's go."

Although Philip wasn't positive that he was decided, he nevertheless approached The Story Book. Martin stayed a little behind him, on his tiptoes to see what Philip was doing. "What about you?" Philip questioned, his hand an inch from The Story Book's pages. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," Martin answered. "Nothing like a little adventure, hm? Now, stop delaying the inevitable and let's go."

Heaving a sigh, Philip rested his hand on the pages of The Story Book.

. . . . . . . . . .

Philip thought that traveling through The Story Book wasn't the most comfortable mode of travel. The moment when, for lack of a better word, one regained consciousness was a disquieting experience, to find oneself in a whole other room or world. The Story doors were much easier and gentler; the unfortunate aspect of those was that they took longer to form and were harder to get to leave Stories and back into the real world.

It was strange for Philip to find himself in the Guardians' castle at night. It was dark, silent, and all-around creepy. Martin, however, seemed unaffected. "It's very peaceful at night, isn't it?" the younger Guardian commented blithely.

Philip groaned inwardly. How had he ended up with such a strange protégé? He decided his best course of option with Martin would be not to answer and went to the door. This time, oddly enough, they weren't in the room with The Story Book. "We're an unauthorized entrance," Philip realized. "The security sent us to the cells!"

Martin stuck out his lower lip as he considered the unfurnished, circular tower cell they were trapped in. It was windowless, unlit, and made of white stone. Philip's protégé went to the heavy wooden door and examined it, even resting his ear against the wood. He turned to Philip with a sly smile. "You'd like to get out, wouldn't you?" he said.

"Yes, of course I want to get out! They'll write us in for this for sure!" Philip answered frantically. How could he have just forgotten the security protocols? Had he really expected to just teleport in with The Story Book, grab it, and get out?

Martin smirked. "But it's unlocked." He pushed the door, and it swung open with what felt like the loudest creak in the whole world.

Philip cringed. "How did you do that?"

"Magic," Martin answered with a wink. "Come on, then. We're wasting time."

The two young men hurried down the steps of the tower together, hoping to avoid discovery by the Guardians. The winding tower stairs seemed to go on for forever, but at long last, they reached the bottom. Philip kept his hand on the pommel of his sword, hoping he wouldn't have to draw and use it on anyone. No matter how he felt about the Guardians' rules and regulations, they were still the only family he had left. That was what made it so difficult for him to betray them. Martin blamed them for the deaths of his parents, and rightly so. On the other hand, Philip's had perished in the line of duty, doing what they believed to be right. But who was right? His parents, or Philip himself?

There was little time to ponder such things. In a moment, he and Martin had reached the hallway leading to the door containing The Story Book. Before Philip could blunder into the hallway and in sight of the guard, Martin had snatched his arm and dragged him back. The young man was surprisingly strong for someone of his short stature. "Guard!" he whispered sharply.

Philip would have slapped his forehead if he weren't sure it would make a loud slapping sound. How could he have forgotten the guard? It was a good thing this was the last heist he planned to undertake. "Sorry," he hissed.

Martin scowled at him and put his fingers to his lips. Philip instantly quieted himself, remembering the desperate need for silence. He just wasn't cut out for this thieving around business. "We need to stop the guard from calling out," Martin said quietly to him.

Heaving a great sigh, Philip removed his sheath from his hip and the blade, still covered, he held in his hand. "Leave it to me," he said.

Martin gave him a cheery thumbs-up and Philip rolled his eyes at him. Slipping against the wall, he crept along, finally catching sight of the Guardian in front of the door. All he could see was curly black hair as he approached the figure, loosening his grip on the sheath as he prepared to wallop the person in the side of the head.

At the last moment, the figure turned, and Philip stopped, his arm going back. "Mimi?" he exclaimed.

Mimi stared at him for several heartbeats. "Philip?" she gasped out. "What are you ... you shouldn't be here! Unless—Philip, no!"

Guilt rose in Philip's throat, but he pushed it down. "I'm sorry, Mimi. But ... I have to. Can't you understand that?"

"I can't understand that!" Mimi cried. "Are you out of your mind? Don't you know what they'll do to you? They'll write you in, or worse, they could kill you!"

"I have to do it. I don't believe what you do, about the members of The Story. They're people, and they've suffered for long enough. I've got to do this, Mimi."

From the expression on Mimi's face, Philip knew she disapproved. The young woman frowned at him furiously. "Don't you know why I have to stop you? I'm protecting The Story Book, Philip. Have you no consideration for what they'll do to the person protecting it when you steal it? I have to stop you." To his surprise, he saw tears building in her eyes as she opened her mouth, ready to scream.

Philip reacted without even thinking. He clubbed Mimi in the side of the head with the scabbard and was horrified when she toppled to the floor, unconscious. He stared at her, trying to wrap his head around what he had just done. "I just ... I just ..."

Martin came around the corner, grinning like an idiot. "Well done!" he began, until he saw Philip kneeling over Mimi. The boy's voice died in his throat, and he started to stutter. "Oh, P-Philip. It had to be her, didn't it?"

"Just get the door open to that stupid room," Philip snapped, tying his scabbard around his waist again. Martin failed to listen as he stared at Philip stupidly while his mentor lifted Mimi off the ground and held her gently in his arms.

"I do hate to bring this point up with you, but you're aware that she hates you, yes?" Martin said tentatively. "Why take her with us? She'll try every moment of every day to escape."

Philip shook his head, looking down at Mimi. It hurt how beautiful she was, even unconscious. "She can't. If we leave her here with the Guardians, they'll punish her for letting The Story Book get stolen. They could write her in, or ... or even execute her. I can't leave her to have to endure that fate. If I lose someone else I care about ..."

Probably seeing that was a fight he wouldn't be able to win, Martin gave in. "Oh, very well. But if she makes trouble, it's all your trouble." The young Guardian put his hand on the door and it swung open. Philip shot him a suspicious look—there was no way that door had been unlocked—but Martin ignored him and bowed him through. "The Story Book is all yours," he said.

Shifting Mimi in his arms, Philip tried to enter the room and successfully banged her feet against the doorframe. Quietly grateful that it hadn't been her head, he adjusted his position and went inside. Martin poked at The Story Book, making a face. "It's protected by a barrier," he said, frustrated.

"It's because you're not supposed to go into The Story unsupervised," Philip said. "You're a trainee. And ... you know ... the thing with your parents."

That reminder didn't exactly make Martin look very happy with Philip. "Well, if you're so wonderful, than you get The Story Book," he said.

Making a face at his protégé, Philip went to the book and adjusted Mimi in his arms again. Then he stretched out his hand and grabbed it, pulling it off its marble pedestal. That in itself wouldn't have been a problem if he hadn't forgotten Mimi's legs. They hit the pedestal and knocked it over, breaking it in half with a huge noise. Philip winced and Martin shot him a superior look. "I knew we should have left her," he said.

"Oh, go fly a kite," Philip snapped. He started frantically flipping through The Story Book, trying to find the unoccupied Story he'd sent Merlin to. "We need to go."

Martin closed the door and somehow locked it. "They'll be here soon," he said, and Philip heard a note of panic in his voice. "We need to leave ..."

"I'm working on it!" Philip barked. "How the heck did you lock that door, anyway? And unlock it?"

"Now is not the time to be discussing that!" Martin said, his voice rising in pitch. "Just focus on what you're doing!"

Something slammed into the door, making both young men jump. Exchanging panicked glances, Philip went back to looking through his book and Martin raised his hands like he was going to catch a ball. Then he changed his mind and grabbed Philip's arm. "You're going to think I'm mad," he told Philip. "But picture the location you want to go in your head."

Philip blinked at him uncertainly. "Eh, what?"

"Do it!" Martin yelled as the door splintered but still held.

Still not really sure why, Philip closed his eyes and held Mimi closer to him. Maybe they'd have pity on her. Perhaps she could escape the dire fate Philip knew they would inflict on her. Oddly enough, he cared little for his own safety. He'd known the price of betrayal. Both he and Martin had understood and accepted the dangers. But Mimi ...

"You can open your eyes, Philip." Martin sounded amused.

Philip opened one eye as the smell of fresh air assailed his nostrils. They were no longer in the little room back in the Guardians' castle. Instead, they stood in a little forest, surrounded by trees. A light rain fell through the green leaves above their heads, and a clear path wound its way through the forest. "Umm ... what?" he managed to choke out.

Martin gave an innocent smile. "Sorry for the surprise," he said. "It's easier to make a Story door to one of the unoccupied Stories than to find it in the book itself. Are you alright? You look like you're going to fall over."

Philip managed to contain his shock and looked over at Martin, disbelief in his eyes. "You ... how did ... when ... how did we get here?" he asked.

Martin ran a hand through his hair, which was already damp from the rain. "Ah, well, you see, you know how my parents were rumored to be practicing magic? Sorcery, not Guardians' magic."

Wordlessly, Philip nodded.

Martin gave him a little grin. "Well, it's more than a rumor," he said. "I'm a sorcerer."

For several heartbeats, neither of them said anything. Martin kept looking at Philip, waiting for him to have some kind of input, but he said nothing. Finally, the young Guardian—or sorcerer, whatever he was—spoke. "I suppose we'd better go and find Merlin," he said, looking disappointed at Philip's lack of response. "He'll be wanting his Story Book, and it's best not to keep our new employer waiting, hm?"

Philip shook himself from his daze with some difficulty. "Yeah," he said. "Let's go."