Thank you, LostBrother , for the song suggestion of "This Is Gospel" by Panic At The Disco! I was having a hard time picking one for this chapter. :P Y'all gave me some great ideas for this chapter, and I went to town with them. :3 I hope you enjoy!

Mild warnings for this chapter: blood and death (Idk if it's even worth a warning though *shrugs*)

*Waglington's POV*

I found myself standing on the front steps of my wizard tower, but everything seemed to be in black and white. How did I get here? I asked myself. I looked down to ensure I was my wizard self and not a cat. I'm me; so why is everything in black and white? The last thing I remember was seeing Donella and my brothers at Wiztopia. I started walking down the mountain to find the others. Maybe they could tell me what had happened.

I reached the bottom of the steps to find myself not on the plain stretching toward Dagrun, but on one of the streets of Wiztopia. I turned around to see my tower had vanished. Turning back to the town before me, I saw my brothers, Jordan, Tom, and Tucker shouldering a large box as they walked through an intersection further down the street. Odd, why don't they just levitate it? It looked like they were headed towards the farm and windmills. I walked down a street parallel to theirs, hoping to catch up to them where the town opened up to the fields of wheat Killertom had designed.

As I quickened my pace, I noticed that pale colors were more and more present the closer I got to the farm. They reminded me of the pictures Ianita made when she mixed too much water with the paints Sonja had given her. I reached the field before the group I had seen, but there were others waiting when I got there. Donella, Martha, Sonja, Mot, Declan, Champwan, Echo, and Kay stood under the cheerless, cloudy sky. Everyone was dressed in black I realized. They stood a few yards away from a large rectangular hole dug into the ground across the paved walkway from the farm. A piece of wood about the size of the box I'd seen the others carrying leaned against a tree stump next to it. It clicked when I saw the others arriving with the box; they were also wearing black. No one looked happy, and most of them looked like they had been crying recently. This is a funeral.

"Sonja, what happened? Who died?" I asked quietly as I moved to stand at the edge of the waiting group. Sonja didn't answer me, but she started sobbing fresh tears as my friends and brothers lowered the coffin to the ground next to the open grave. I turned to face Sonja and reached to pull her into a hug to console her, since Tucker was part of the proceedings. Sonja could be quite affected by things, and a friend hugging her always seemed to help. I stared in shock as my arm went right through her. "What the hell?!"

I backed away from Sonja in dread. I glanced to those standing next to her; no one had noticed my outburst. I only stopped my retreat when I backed into the side of the coffin. I did not want to look, but my eyes slowly turned to the open casket behind me. Cold fear shot up my spine as I came face to face with me. This was my funeral.

"No. No, no, no! This can't be happening," I said in bewilderment. "If I'm dead, I shouldn't still be here!" I felt immensely cheated. I also still felt quite alive. None of this made sense.

As Declan cleared his throat to start the eulogy, the scene faded into muddied colors and sounds that reformed into the barren ocean north of Dagrun and my tower. Tucker and I were flying around, building what looked like a dam near the mouth of a river that was still emptying into the dried and crevice riddled sea bed. We were laughing and joking as we shored up a section that had been damaged by a small landslide. I was standing on top of the dam, looking down at myself and Tucker as they—we worked. I was very confused as I watched.

The scene changed again to a freakish, multileveled maze in the Nether; I was floating outside of it. From where I stood, I could see through the glass outer wall and make out my friends wandering, hopelessly lost in the endless passages. One set of passages was notably empty. I could immediately pick out the way up from my position, but I knew by now that trying to tell them would be pointless. Time skipped forward, and I saw them walking away from the maze—which was now crumbling—toward a nether portal. They all looked haggard and haunted. Jordan in particular did not look well; his eyes nearly overflowed with despair and guilt. "I can't believe we were stuck in there for two days," I heard Tom mutter as they walked past.

The scene seemed to reset itself, but this time I was inside the upper end of the maze, standing next to "me". I was shouting directions and encouragement down to my friends. They were steadily climbing higher with my help. I gave up trying to understand the scenarios I was seeing at that point and decided to just let them play out.

I found myself next in the library of my brothers' wizard tower. Matt was sitting at a table piled high with books. This was very unlike him. Something about the emotionless expression on his face made my blood run cold. I had gotten pretty good at reading him—despite the mask—over the centuries. I could only think of one thing that would make my animated brother into this emotionless bookworm. "The athar," I said out loud, not wanting it to be true.

A ruthless grin spread across Matt's face as he found whatever he was looking for. We teleported with the tome he held to a chamber I had never seen before. The entire place was made of nether brick and lava. Pieces of blood magic rituals and piles of animal bones lined the walls. Floating in the center of the room was a glowing red cube. Sparks of malevolent magic shot off of the thing as Matt strode to it. He didn't even flinch as a few of the sparks connected with him. "The Tower Heart will fall at last," Matt told the pulsating cube before the whole room faded out.

I saw another of my brothers next. Phil was humming a tune as he tinkered happily away in one of his labs. To my surprise, I recognized a lot of the parts lying across the workbenches and scaffolding. Phil was building a set of rocket ships.

I looked over my shoulder to see if I could find my last brother; instead I found several of our apprentices in a damp, stone brick and iron barred prison cell. They were all chained to the walls of the cell and looked in worse shape than Andor when we'd rescued him from Inertia. They all had bruises, cuts, and torn clothes, and their tired eyes were devoid of hope. Kay looked the worst of all, and she appeared unconscious. The scene faded as I realized she wasn't breathing.

I closed my eyes, trying to erase the horrible image from my mind. I opened them when I heard children squealing and laughing. I was standing in a meadow I didn't recognize. There's my last brother. Tom and Winter stood next to each other, smiling proudly. I followed their gaze and saw a young boy and a girl chasing each other through the tall grass. The girl was trying to put flowers in her brother's hair as they ran. I couldn't help but smile at the happy scene.

Mianite laughing behind me interrupted the children's play, and I turned around, forgetting my smile. I wasn't outside anymore. I was in a large cavern with a central platform raised above jutting spikes of stone. Mot, Tom, and Sonja appeared to be desperately fighting Tucker and Jordan but were getting overwhelmed. The two blood mages moved far too quickly for the others to even prepare a counterattack, and the duo weren't listening to their friends' pleas to stop. To the side of the platform I saw to my horror Donella, Steve, Martha, and Dianite lying in pools of their own blood, lifeless. Mianite floated high over the platform, obviously quite satisfied with whatever he had done.

I gazed at the scene of my friends fighting in shock and dismay, when movement caught my eye. I looked back up just in time to see Mianite get stabbed through the chest from behind. As Mianite fell, I saw the hooded and robed figure who held the sword that had ended him. "You should not be here, wizard," the figure warned in a menacing tone as he turned his shadowed face toward me.

"Wait, you can see me?"

The figure started floating towards me. I did not doubt he would end me, but I didn't flee. I couldn't. I was frozen in place by his gaze, though I could not see his eyes under his grey and black hood. "You have only ever been a disappointment. I had hoped you might prove useful, but here you are, unable or unwilling to save your friends. Why do they even call you their friend, hm? I think they would be better off with Kevin Jr. for an ally," he said in a low voice. Every sentence he uttered was just as accurate and damaging as the sword thrust that had slain Mianite. I lowered my head in shame, finally released from whatever hold he had on me.

I distantly heard my friends shouting as I felt the robed figure rest the flat of his bloodied sword on my left shoulder. He was lining up a killing blow, but I didn't care. I was done with failing those I loved and letting them slip away. I was tired of fighting, and he knew it. I heard my voice join those of my friends below us. I focused my eyes on the dimly lit platform to distract myself from my imminent death. I saw myself cheering and holding my blood stained sword above my head as if I had done something impossible. Whose blood is that?

I felt the heavy sword leave my shoulder as my executioner prepared a beheading swing. I saw Jordan look up and see us, or at least the robed man. He nocked an arrow to his Bow of Balance, took aim, and drew in one fluid movement. He loosed his arrow as the robed man started to swing his sword toward my neck. The arrow found its mark first, sending my assailant plummeting out of the air with a scream of disbelief, pain, and rage.

I felt tired, cold, and empty as this scene dissolved like all the rest. Instead of another chain of events following it, I remained in blackness. As I floated weightless, I began to notice a purple glow surrounding me, holding back the darkness trying to crash in. It tightened around me like a protective blanket, though it did nothing to warm me. The darkness looked so inviting, but the purple glowing barrier would not let me leave.

I saw one last picture form in the endless dark beyond the purple barrier, though there was no sound to go with it. I didn't need sound to recognize what was happening. Again, the surroundings were unfamiliar, but I stood facing Martha amid a field of wildflowers. We were talking about something when I reached into a fold of my robes and produced a small velvet box, a ring box. I knelt and opened it. Martha's face went from surprise to joy. She tackled me in a hug that sent us both sprawling on the ground grinning like fools before the scene was swallowed by the dark once again.

Numbness slowly seeped into my limbs until I couldn't feel anything except my own weariness weighing on me. I so wanted to sleep, but the bright purple glow was keeping me awake. I replayed all of the strange dreams (was that what they were?) in my mind briefly, wondering if they meant anything. Maybe they were my mind's twisted idea of my life flashing before my eyes.

I was finally starting to drift off to sleep despite the annoying purple light when I heard someone calling my name, "Wag? Wag, can you hear me?" That sounded like Martha, but it was probably my mind playing tricks on me, taunting me with what I'd lost. Sorrow and regret for everything I should have done differently filled me.

"Wag, you don't have to go. The wizards are working on you right now; you're going to be fine," the Martha-like voice said. Now I get what this place is, I thought, looking back out to the pressing darkness. I'm dying. The thought did not bother me. With how tired I felt, I accepted my death. I had a feeling that I was beyond help given my current state. Wizards and gods can do a lot, but they can't undo death once a person is too far gone. Why fight something you can't fix?

"James Waglington Hayes, don't you dare give up on me! You mean a lot to your friends and brothers and to me. We need you here." This voice didn't know when to quit. Everyone would get along just fine without me. They had managed on their own in the Realm, and they would manage again.

"Didn't you tell me you keep your promises?" The voice prodded. I thought back to Latreia and the promise I'd made her. I was a little put off that my mind was making me remember another of my failures, as if I could forget them.

"You promised to try to live. You promised that you would help me find Steve. You can't leave yet; I know you are not a liar." I did make a promise to Martha, didn't I? I thought. I was angry with myself for almost forgetting and for making another stupid promise in the first place. I only made that promise because I couldn't stand how heartbroken she was over Steve. It felt like a fresh knife in my heart remembering that Martha had chosen another over me. The heartache and betrayal were just as painful and awful as they were when I'd felt them earlier. I wondered if they'd ever fade. I can't leave Martha like this, not knowing what happened to Steve. She won't even have her best friend there to keep her sane. I have to at least try to help her, and I need to be alive to do that.

"That's it, Wag! Keep fighting! You're doing great." I glared at the darkness I imagined the voice to be coming from. "They're almost done, Waggles. Try to relax." The pet name only made the heartache worse. What does that voice mean? Who's almost done with what? My mind started feeling fuzzy then, and pins and needles danced over my numb body. I thought again how cold it was before I blacked out.

I'll try to answer all of your comments between now and Friday, but I'm going to be afk over the weekend, which may mean only one chapter next week. :/ (I usually write a bunch over the weekend.) We'll see what happens. Oklahoma, here I come! :D