Morgan and Juliette rejoined Gerald and Apollo, the entire group grim-faced. For a while, Apollo had deluded himself into thinking that things were looking up. But now, between his and Morgan's newfound inability to physically touch each other, and Elsa's disappearance, things were most definitely not looking up. More like the opposite.

Frustrated, Apollo rubbed at his temples, wishing he could do something aside from standing around like a bump on a log. Juliette was pacing in the corner they'd found away from the crowds wandering Zor, and Gerald and Morgan stood awkwardly together, watching. "We can find her again, aye?" Gerald said, with a hint of desperation in his voice.

"It's not a matter of if we can find her," Juliette said, running a hand through her shorn locks of hair. "It's a matter of what we find when we do."

Gerald clenched his jaw at the callous words, all of them knowing what Juliette was insinuating. Whether they would find Elsa alive, or simply just her corpse. "She ain't dead," Gerald said stubbornly. "Set would've just killed her in front of us if that were his plan."

"I must say that I agree with Gerald," Apollo said. He sighed at the mock look of surprise Gerald gave him. "For perhaps the first time in my life. And maybe the last. But Set must have wanted Elsa for some reason. It's up to us to figure out why."

"And where they are," Juliette put in.

"And where they are," Apollo agreed.

"Well, I can find that," Morgan said, speaking up for the first time. They all looked at him in confusion. "What? I can trace Set's shadow traveling with my own magic. It will be a simple matter to reopen the path he made and follow him."

"Reopen?" Apollo looked and felt doubtful. He knew what that meant, and he knew something else too. If Morgan was suggesting what Apollo believed he was, Apollo would have to be left behind. There was no question about it; he couldn't follow them through the shadows. Not without being horribly burned. His burnt palm ached at the thought.

"I'll have to use the same spell, yes," Morgan said, as if he'd read Apollo's mind. "But I'm sure you can—"

"I'll be burned," Apollo said, more abruptly than he should have, perhaps. But Morgan's naivety was not welcome at the moment. "I'll have to remain behind."

"I be going," Gerald put in immediately, ignoring Apollo's obvious disappointment. "There ain't no question about that."

"Isn't there?" Morgan said. "I want to go alone."

"That is foolhardy," Juliette put in. "We may as well hand the dark wizards another toy to play with if we let you go alone."

"I am not a toy," Morgan snapped, his eyes flashing.

"No, you're not," Juliette agreed. "But you will be if you go there alone. So don't be an idiot. Take Gerald with you."

"And where will you go, while I drag this useless hunk of leather around with me?" Morgan asked in annoyance.

"Oi," Gerald complained.

"I'll remain here with Apollo, since he obviously can't accompany you," Juliette replied. "Splitting up and going at things alone is not a good plan."

"I can agree with that," Apollo said. "But really, shouldn't we put more into the rescue party instead of with me?"

"If you want to get captured and imprisoned with Elsa or who-knows who else, then be my guest," Juliette said.

Apollo frowned. The knight seemed to have a knack for getting her way, whether people wanted to let her or not. "Fine."

She smiled sweetly at him, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. It wasn't often that Apollo had seen her smile, and it seemed to him that it lit up her face. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he looked away briefly. "Don't sound so happy about it," she teased him gently.

"Are ye finished?" Gerald interrupted impatiently. "Elsa's life could be at stake."

"I'm with him," Morgan said.

Juliette inclined her head slightly. "I hope that you are aware this can all be an elaborate trap and you two could be walking right into it," she replied.

"Aye, I be aware," Gerald said, his hand going to his broadsword on his back. "And Set had better be aware that he be about to become separated from his head."

"I'd be happy to help with that," Morgan added.

"I'll leave you to that, then," Apollo said. "Do you think we should tell Cora?" he added to Juliette.

The knight considered his words. "No ... I think we ought to stay where we are for now. If they don't come back, then we'll see what she has to say. I don't want to leave Vordelle without a ruler if it's not necessary."

"Then can we be off, mate?" Gerald asked Morgan impatiently.

"Aye—I mean, yes," Morgan said, nodding. For a brief moment, his hand moved towards Apollo, as if to clap his cousin on the shoulder, like old times. When Apollo flinched away, wishing even as he did so that he hadn't, Morgan's face fell, looking devastated. "Sorry."

"I'm sorry," Apollo said softly. The burn on his hand seemed to intensify.

Juliette gently pulled Apollo away as Gerald and Morgan stepped closer together, nearly brushing arms. Morgan put out his hands and whispered something in another language. Shadows shot out of the ground, enveloping them both, hiding them from sight until they faded.

When the shadows faded, Morgan and Gerald were gone. Apollo and Juliette both stared at the spot for several seconds, until finally, Juliette guided Apollo into an alleyway and dumped all of their satchels down in it. "And now we wait," she said.

"And now we wait," Apollo agreed, not realizing it was the second time he'd parroted the knight in the past ten minutes. Juliette did, though, and smiled a bit without commenting. They sat down, back against the wall, looking out at the streets as people moved past, going about their daily business in the capital city of Zor.

Juliette broke the silence. "It's beautiful."

"What is?" Apollo looked over at her.

The knight drew her knees to her chest. She'd found clothes for them all, but Elsa had not had the opportunity to change into the breeches and tunic that Juliette had gotten for her. Juliette wore them, though, and seemed much more at ease in those clothes than in the dress she'd been wearing before. "This. Life. People going about their lives, living. In peace."

Apollo considered the crowd outside their alleyway. "I've never had that kind of life."

"No?" she said, gently prodding him to say more.

"Never," Apollo admitted. "My life has been rather chaotic from the very beginning. I don't think me and Morgan have had a quiet day our entire lives."

Juliette leaned back, silently inviting him to elaborate. It didn't take much, and Apollo gave a small smile. "Even when we traveled alone, there was always one problem or another. Like when I tried to convince Morgan to go on a diet and he got sick, since apparently mages need a great deal of sustenance to support their magic. Or when we got kidnapped by bandits who want to turn us over to Herbert for the reward out on our heads."

Juliette laughed. "Sounds like you had quite the adventures together, Apollo."

"We did." Apollo stared down at his feet, not wanting to meet her eyes. How could they journey together now, if they couldn't even come close to each other? What if Morgan's dark magic and Apollo's light magic got stronger? Then could they even be within a hundred feet of each other?

Juliette touched his arm. "You love him dearly, don't you?"

"We're like brothers," Apollo said. "Or, we were. Until this whole mess started. Now we can't even go near each other without hurting each other. I shudder to think what would happen if we tried casting spells on each other as pranks like we used to."

Juliette ran a hand through her shorn locks. "It might not always be like that, you know," she said.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, you may find that as you grow more used to these new abilities, you can demonstrate more control over them," Juliette explained. "It's obvious that your light magic was accentuated after the Lightshield saved you from dying. And I have a sneaking suspicion that Morgan's newfound power stems from Lucifer and Mammon's deaths. It will take time, but I have no doubt that the two of you will be able to suppress these too-powerful abilities and be able to travel together again."

"You're very good at offering comfort," Apollo said. "Do you do it often?"

Juliette sighed. "No. I don't, sadly. I haven't got anyone to offer comfort to. Prince Daren and Princess Cora comforted each other, and I never did it with either of them. I have no family and no one to love me."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, my family is dead, and the closest thing I had to family—Sir Joseph—was executed," she answered. "I get the distinct impression that his daughter isn't very fond of me, either."

Apollo picked at white robes, reclaimed from Oswald's belongings. "I thought so too, at first. But she takes a lot to trust people, and it took a very long time for her to trust me. We're not the best of friends, I'll admit, but she tolerates me and Morgan. Which is more than she did when we met her back in Cordoh."

Juliette seemed to be considering Apollo's words. "Are you fond of her, then?"

"In what way are you implying?" Apollo asked suspiciously.

Judging by the innocent look on her face, it was the way he knew she had been suggesting. "Just asking, Apollo. For my curiosity's sake."

Apollo arched his eyebrow at the knight. "Or to make me uncomfortable?" he asked.

"Of course not!" Juliette protested.

Unable to determine the reasoning behind her questions, Apollo shook his head in confusion but nevertheless chose to respond. "I don't love her, Juliette. She and I are much too different for that. Any romance between us would quickly die because of those differences. Our only similarity is that we will not kill. The differences ... are great."

"Not so great that love couldn't overcome them, I'm sure," Juliette argued.

"Although you seem certain, I'm not," Apollo answered. "And I don't love her, which makes the point moot."

"Alright, no need to get snippy with me, healer," Juliette answered, and grinned a little. "I'll let that slide, then." Silence fell over them for a few seconds.

Apollo broke it, albeit a little tentatively. "Juliette, what happened to your family?"

The knight flexed her fingers. "Personal question, don't you think?" she asked, and she didn't exactly have the jocular tone she had before. "They died. Sickness. My mother, father, unborn sibling, two older sisters, and my older brother. I was the only one who survived, and even I didn't make it out unscathed." She rolled up the sleeve of her tunic, showing old scars on her arms. "They cover my entire upper torso. It's not pretty."

Apollo put his hand on her arm, examining the odd black marks on her. "Did anyone know what disease this was?" he asked.

Juliette shook her head. "Sadly, no. If they had, they might have been able to save more than me."

Apollo released her arm and met her eyes uncertainly. "Juliette, these marks aren't from a disease."

That made the knight's eyebrows shoot up. "I'm not sure what you're implying," she said, in a stiff tone that warned Apollo he was treading on thin ice with her. Apparently, discussing the "sickness" that claimed the lives of everyone in her family was a touchy subject for her.

Apollo tugged at his gloves, trying to figure out how to lessen the blow to her. "I believe that this disease that took your family from you ... it wasn't an illness. This was dark magic. From the dark wizards."

"I don't understand," Juliette said, pulling her arms around her as if to hide them from Apollo. "What are you trying to say to me?"

"That maybe the dark wizards knew all along that you would be involved in this mess," Apollo admitted reluctantly. "There can only be that reason for this. It's a curse, not a disease. I'm sorry."

Juliette wrapped her fingers around each other. "You're saying they destroyed my family to try and kill me?" she said, her voice deathly calm.

Although Apollo wasn't sure what her reaction would be, he nodded. "Yes. I believe that they did."

The knight nodded a few times, as if taking that information in carefully. Once she had, she raised angry eyes to Apollo. "I'm going to kill them. Rip their heads off and hurl them off the highest cliff I can possibly find."

Apollo's eyebrows shot up. "I'll hold off the demons while you do it," he offered.

That drew an amused but slightly bitter laugh from Juliette. "Thank you, Apollo. Truly. At least I know you'll be with me. Even if you won't help me kill them."

"Not personally," Apollo agreed. "But I'll support you, whole-heartedly."

A comfortable silence fell over them. Apollo was grateful that he'd managed to diffuse the anger he'd feared would be directed at him. For some reason, he didn't want her too angry at him. It would have made for an uncomfortable amount of time while waiting for the others to come back. "I am sorry about your family," he said at last, when he felt that a decent amount of time had passed.

Juliette smiled at him and slid cold fingers into his hand. Cold even through his glove. "Thank you, Apollo. Sometimes I think that people think of me only as a knight in armor, as opposed to an actual person. And it's hard."

"I've never thought of you like that," Apollo said. "I promise. I'm not just saying that to make you feel better, either."

"I know you tell the truth," Juliette said. "And it makes me even gladder to have you as a friend. Traveling with an untrustworthy mercenary just wasn't the same."

"You don't like Gerald?"

"Oh, he's an alright person," Juliette said. "But I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him. The only reason he's here is because of that brand on his neck."

"I really actually don't think that's true," Apollo admitted. "I get the impression he's here for ... another reason."

The knight's eyebrow shot up. "And that would be ...?"

"I haven't quite figured it out yet," Apollo said, to avoiding putting Gerald under scrutiny. "But it's not quite the selfish reason he likes everyone to think. I heard him and Elsa arguing about it."

"Hm. Perhaps I underestimated him. Or he simply wants to surprise us," Juliette said, and shrugged. "Either way, I suppose I'll withhold my judgement on him until I know better."

"I'm glad you trust me enough to do so," Apollo joked, and laughed a little. "I appreciate you staying with me, by the way."

Juliette's eyebrows shot up to her hairline. "You realize I'm only doing this because if we left you alone, they'd get a Chosen One, right?" she said, but Apollo got the impression that she, like Gerald, was hiding something.

Apollo curled his legs up to his chest and stared out into the street again. A burst of laughter from several kids running through the crowds made him smile. Children would always be children, he knew. "I never wanted to be a Chosen One."

"Did you know?" Juliette asked.

"No," Apollo said. "If I'd known, I would never have let Elsa get dragged into this mess. She deserved better than to have to watch Elaine die before her eyes."

Juliette nodded in agreement. "Nobody deserves that. To be fair, you didn't deserve an axe to the back of your neck either. Did it hurt?"

Apollo's hand briefly touched his new scar on the back of his neck. "Like the devil was biting me," he admitted. "But I'm alright now. Truly."

"Aside from the memories," Juliette said. "I know. I understand."

Apollo did his best to give her a smile, but it didn't really come off the way he wanted it to, and he ended up leaning back against the wall. Neither of them spoke again.

. . . . . . . . . .

"Ye be sure this be the right place?" Gerald asked with a hint of uncertainty as he and Morgan pushed aside large amounts of vegetation. The thorny bushes were catching on their clothes and skin, and tearing through them as easily as a knife. "Blimey, putting a portal in the middle of this briar patch," he added in a mutter.

Morgan glared a little at Gerald. "Next time you want to make the portal, let me know," he said, and rolled his eyes as he used his rapier to cut through the bushes. Gerald was reduced to using his hunting knife, since swinging the broadsword around like a mad man to cut through the bushes ... probably wouldn't end well.

"If I had magic, I'd be far better at it than ye be," Gerald retorted, hissing as a bush snapped back and almost hit him in the eyes.

"But you don't, so you aren't," Morgan answered with devastating logic. After another few seconds, the mage added, "I'm hungry."

"And I got the food," Gerald said vindictively.

To that, there was no response, though another branch nailed Gerald in the stomach. The mercenary had the distinct impression that was not accidental. He kept walking, hoping they'd find Elsa soon. If she was getting tortured, he didn't know what he would do. Instead, he kept biting his lip.

Morgan was uncharacteristically quiet as well, though Gerald spared him only a moment's thought. Elsa was most important at the moment. Not Morgan, and certainly not his problem with Apollo. In Gerald's mind, that was easily remedied. Just don't touch each other. How hard could that be? In Gerald's homeland, physical displays of affection were frowned upon, such as a hand on a shoulder or even a hug.

The two of them finally emerged from the patch of briars Morgan had sent them to, to find themselves faced with a big black temple-thing. It was huge, menacing, and certainly not a place Gerald would normally have gone into. But if it meant returning Elsa home, then he would do it.

"Well, this place looks dark, creepy, and menacing," Morgan said, mirroring Gerald's thoughts almost exactly. After a moment, the mage spoke again. "It looks like the perfect place for a dark wizard to store a prisoner. Should we go inside?"

"Seems like maybe we should," Gerald agreed. The two men, given that they had an equal cause at the moment, made their ways forward. Gerald's hand fell to the hilt of his sword, trying to ignore how quiet it was, while Morgan drew his rapier. They advanced slowly and carefully, Gerald's knuckles whitening over his hilt.

Nothing jumped out at them as they walked. It was all utterly, totally silent. Creepily so. It would have been better if something had jumped out at them. Gerald slowly slid his sword from its sheath, holding it out in front of him in case something, anything, tried to attack him. He almost wished that something would.

A twig snapped. Both of them froze, glancing over at each other, tense, waiting. "Someone be there," Gerald said, lifting his sword slightly.

"I noticed," Morgan answered, electricity bouncing off his fingers. "Friend or foe?"

"I be willing to bet it ain't a friend," Gerald answered, narrowing his eyes. "Come out and show yerself, or me mage friend here will fry ye!"

Morgan seemed to agree with that threat, as he raised his hands and prepared himself. Just as he was preparing to shoot lightning, something huge and black shot out of the hedges towards them. It was like a demon without wings, and it grabbed Gerald, tackling him to the forest floor. "Blimey!" he said, placing his large blade between himself and the brute. It was digging at his sword like it smelled flesh beneath it, but wasn't smart enough to know it could just dig around the sword. "Help!" Gerald choked out.

Morgan jumped at the creature, stabbing with his rapier. "What the devil is this thing?" he demanded.

"A demon, methinks," Gerald answered, straining. The creature was threatening to crush his ribs, and his arms were beginning to tremble from the strain. "Kill it!"

"What does it look like I'm trying to do?" Morgan yelled. "I'm stabbing the stupid thing!"

He was, in fact, stabbing the monster repeatedly, but it wasn't dying. It just kept clawing at Gerald, making an odd keening noise in its throat. As Gerald's strength faded, the burned-on claw on his throat started to throb painfully. "Blimey," he gasped out. "Just chop off the blasted thing's head!"

"A rapier's for stabbing, not slicing!" Morgan yelled, the blade of his sword lighting up with flames. When he stabbed the creature next, the flames spread, and Gerald smelled cooking flesh as he shoved the monster off him, gasping for air. There were a few scratch marks on his arms, the monster having torn through his leather coat.

"That was foul," Gerald muttered, sitting up and using his sword to prop himself up.

Morgan nodded, looking at the black blood dripping off his rapier. "I can concur with that. Are you alright?"

"Well enough. Lot better than I'd be if that brute had gotten past me sword," Gerald answered. "Reckon we be in the right place."

"I suppose so," Morgan said, using the toe of his boot to turn over the demon's charred body. "This doesn't look right, though. Demons have wings. This almost looks like ... a different species."

"Don't be daft," Gerald retorted. "There only be one species of demon. Ugly."

Morgan rolled his eyes. "You're the daft one," he said. "How else can you explain the fact that this one has no wings?"

"Maybe someone chopped them off," Gerald suggested, looking rather as if he didn't care one way or another. He swung his sword upright and walked towards the temple. After another moment of looking at the demon's corpse, Morgan followed him inside the temple.

The interior was as dark as the outside had been. Morgan lit his fingers with a flame, and the jumping fire seemed to throw an eerie light around the room they were in. Gerald tried not to let himself get creeped out, but it was a little hard when the place was so blasted creepy. Sighing, he kept going, following Morgan as the mage led the way down the long corridor.

The only sounds as they walked were their footsteps and the crackling of the fire in Morgan's hand. It was enough to drive a person mad, the utter silence accompany them. Yet neither of them dared to break the silence over them, considering they were relying on stealth to keep them safe. Besides, they didn't exactly want to converse, since they weren't particularly fond of each other.

So it was that Morgan and Gerald made their further into the temple, the coolness of the air started to become more frigid than cool. Gerald could clearly see his breath in the light of the flames. "This place be odd," he said softly, his voice nevertheless echoing in the peculiar place.

"Wrong, more like," Morgan answered in the same tone of voice. "It's much larger than the outside would suggest."

"Aye." Gerald took a few steps, freezing after a moment. "Blimey. Something be watching us. D'ye get that feeling?"

Morgan shushed him sharply. The two stood together in silence, listening, frozen. Gerald wasn't sure what they were listening to, but it made him nervous regardless, and his knuckles whitened on his sword's hilt. He raised his sword anxiously. "I get more than a feeling. Something's following us," Morgan said.

"Wonderful." Gerald glanced at Morgan, deciding to let him make the decision for the time being. The mage was casting about, looking for whatever it was that was following them. Gerald privately hoped it wasn't another one of those freaky wingless demon creatures that had attacked them outside. Judging from the cautious looks Morgan was casting around, he was hoping the same thing. "D'ye think it'll come out and attack us?"

"Do birds fly?" Morgan retorted, his eyes narrowing. Gerald saw a bit of red make its way into Morgan's eyes. That alone made Gerald rather nervous. "We're in a dark wizard temple, rescuing someone they kidnapped. I really don't think they want to ask us out to tea."

"That'd be better than this," Gerald muttered. "Waiting for something to come jumping out at us and eat us."

"Demons don't eat people, Gerald," Morgan retorted. "Don't be stupid."

"Oh, aye, don't be stupid when we be stalked by something we cannot see," he answered, a movement catching his eye. By the time he swung to face it, it was already gone. "Blimey. Whatever be hanging around don't want to show itself to us."

"It's stalking us. Of course it won't," Morgan said.

"Don't ye get all high and mighty with me, mate," Gerald answered.

That was the extent of their conversation. Once they had finished arguing—or, rather, simply stopped arguing for the moment—they continued on, doing their best to ignore the stalker who still refused to show themselves. It was starting to get less creepy and more annoying, like an itch that Gerald couldn't scratch.

The two found a door at the end of the long corridor they were going through. It was as black as the rest of the temple, and if it hadn't been for the flames on Morgan's hand, Gerald wouldn't even have realized that it was a door. He would have simply assumed it had been a dead end. "Should we open it?" Gerald asked.

Morgan chewed his lip. "This really screams 'trap' to me, but I don't see how we have much of a choice," he admitted. "Keep that giant blade of yours at the ready."

Gerald made no response, aside from raising his sword again. It was always ready to cut through enemy flesh, but if the door came alive and ate Morgan, there wasn't a whole lot Gerald could do about that. Nor was he sure he wanted to.

After glancing a little at Gerald, just long enough to show his nerves, Morgan put out his hand and touched the knob. Nothing happened. The door did not come alive, and it didn't grow teeth, either. That maddening silence persisted. Gerald would almost have preferred if something had come lunging out of the shadows.

Instead, Morgan turned the knob painfully slowly, as if he was afraid that turning it too fast would bring out some sort of a monster. The only sounds were their breaths, coming in nervous, small puffs. Morgan was cringing visibly as he opened the door all the way, looking into the door. He let his breath go. "There's nothing deadly through there," he said.

Something shot out of the darkness and swung a sword at Gerald. The mercenary gave a strangled yell in surprise and jumped back, the sword slicing through the front of his shirt, drawing blood. As the scratch bled, Gerald swung his sword into a fighting position, seeing his opponent crouching. Although humanoid in figure, Gerald couldn't help but notice that the creature's skin and face resembled that of a demon's. What were these things?

Morgan gave a similar yell as another creature attacked him. That one looked more like a hulking brute, swinging the back of its hand at Morgan and sending the mage flying backwards. Though he slammed against the wall painfully, Morgan did recover and scrambled to his feet, looking slightly panicked. "What the devil are these things?"

"If I knew, I would tell ye," Gerald answered, cutting at his attacker. He barely missed and the creature swept up for a vicious counter. If Gerald had been any less experienced in fighting, he would have been dead. As it was, he managed to leap backwards, just in time, and scowled. "How's it going with ye?"

Morgan made no response as lightning shot out of him, arcing towards the creatures they were fighting. Although the lightning hit its mark, the creatures simply growled and continued advancing on their targets. "Ain't ye got something light?" Gerald asked, backing up a little. The cut on his chest stung like mad. "They be some kind of demons, mate."

"In case you hadn't noticed, I'm a dark mage," Morgan said. "Light is not my cup of tea. And neither, I suspect, is it yours."

Since Gerald could not argue against that, he said nothing. Instead, he waited for his attacker to strike, planning a counterstrike once the attack came. And come it did, fast as lightning, slicing out of the darkness like a snake. Gerald stepped into the blow, ignoring the stinging pain as it slammed into his arm, bouncing off the bone. Instead, he went with the motion, deflecting the blade when it was yanked out and aimed at his chest. With his free and injured hand, he drew his knife from the sheath at his waist and plunged it into the side of the demon's neck.

The demon died silently, as Gerald jerked the knife from its neck. Black blood stained it, confirming an uncomfortable thought in his mind. "They be experimenting with making demons," he guessed.

"Making demons?" Morgan demanded, ducking as his enemy attacked again. "How do you make a demon?"

"Presumably with dark magic," Gerald said. He cut at the exposed back of the demon attacking Morgan, successfully ending its life in seconds. It had been much easier to fight one brute than two. "Ye alright?"

"You're bleeding," Morgan said, and sounded as if he was very close to panicking. "Gerald, you know that the demons carry poison in them!"

"In their claws," Gerald said, tearing a piece of the bottom of his shirt. He held it out to Morgan. "Tie it for me, mate. I can do it, but it be better knotted if somebody else be the person who does it. Ye'd better hurry up and do it, before anymore of the beasties come along and try and take a bite outta ye."

"You still feel fine?" Morgan checked as he took the scrap of cloth and started wrapping it around Gerald's arm. "No evil tendencies?"

"Just the overwhelming desire to smack ye," Gerald said, gritting his teeth. "Oi, ye be cutting off the circulation to me arm."

"That's to keep the blood from escaping," Morgan said, tightening it as much as he could. "The less you bleed, the less danger there is. We can't get you fixed up until we get back to Apollo, but that should hold you over until we get there."

Gerald examined the cloth from his shirt. "Thanks," he said reluctantly, holding his sword in his uninjured right hand. The weight, for the first time in ages, felt rather heavy, but he didn't let it go. That would be leaving himself defenseless, and that wasn't a feeling that Gerald had ever enjoyed. "Let's go through that door, then."

Although Morgan looked understandably anxious, the two of them went towards the door. Once they reached it, Morgan lit his fingers with flames and ducked inside, the fire lighting up the room. Again, it cast eerie shadows on the walls, and both of them froze when they saw what lay beyond the door.

Demons. About fifty of them. Gerald raised his sword. "Mate, we can fight through this together—"

"You don't understand." Morgan was backing away, horrified. "They catch me and ... no, I can't do it. I'm sorry, Gerald, truly. But I can't let it end like this!" Before Gerald could stop him, Morgan had run through the door and it slammed shut behind him.

Immediately, Gerald was plunged into darkness.