It was a long while later, when the ambient light in the jail grew too dark to see by, when Kendrick’s throbbing headache and nausea first began to subside, that Morrolf finally ended his sermon. “That concludes my ministry for today,” said the old cleric. “I’ll return tomorrow at dawn. I have not yet lost faith in you three, and Aldiel shall never. Rest now and may the peace of the Overworld shine down upon you even in darkness.”

Thunk. A heavy door slammed shut with a metallic resonance. If the acoustics in this place are consistent, Kendrick thought, that door must be as iron as these bars. But why?

Now that there was finally peace and quiet for the first time since he woke up, he decided he’d better check on his comrades. “Sahni?” he called out. “Bellara?” Although he knew his blue-haired friend was dumped in the cell across the hall from him, he could no longer see far enough to scrutinize her facial expression or even her body language. He could only see a vague silhouette half-melted into the surrounding dark. That was more than he could see of Bellara, though, and he hadn’t heard anything from either of them since their arrival here.

He went to tap his lens to get a read on their aura and realized his face was naked as the day he first arrived in the Ecumene. Shit, he thought, leaning back against the cold brick wall. They took that, too? I’m completely defenseless in here. I’m a sitting duck... What did Bellara say they called it? A... oh yeah, a bedded deer. Yeah, I’m a bedded deer in here.

“Can you hear me?” Kendrick called out again. “Bellara? Sahni? Anybody?”

“We can hear you just fine,” Bellara snapped back at him from the next cell over. “Stop yelling already.”

He jumped to his feet. “You’re awake! Sahni, you, too?”

“Mmm-hmm,” she answered weakly.

“Fantastic! Now, how do we bust out of here and get our stuff back?”

“Do you have a pickaxe, Kendrick?” Bellara asked.

“...No?”

“Once you get one, we’ll be able to think about escaping.”

Kendrick scoffed. “What are you talking about? Just use magic!”

“If I had access to my magic,” Bellara explained, “I would not have sat through a moment of that horrendous sermon, let alone the entire thing.”

“I thought you were just biding your time. What’s the problem then?”

“The extract we were given did not just put us to sleep—it did worse. I only had a sip of it when I tasted something was wrong. When I noticed that our captors weren’t drinking any of the ale, my suspicions were confirmed. They poisoned us with fairybane. It’s a plant native to the Ecumene, and it’s a mild drug in small doses. But a sufficient dose of the extract is enough to put people to sleep. Not only that, it saps one’s aura and slows the regeneration process. I can barely conjure a loose aurum right now. I’m sure Sahni is faring far worse.”

“Mmm-hmm,” mumbled Sahni.

“Well,” said Kendrick, “how long does it take to regenerate?”

“Perhaps days,” Bellara answered. “Perhaps longer. But we have a much bigger problem: these iron bars and the solid iron door. There’s iron all around us, and in great quantities.”

“Oh yeah.” Kendrick remembered a previous conversation they’d had. “Didn’t you tell me once that iron is bad for aura? Then how does the Psysword work?”

“Your sword is made of orkanite, not iron or steel, remember? It’s a slightly more brittle metal but more conducive to aura. Iron, on the other hand, has a diffusing effect—sort of like magnetic repulsion. You know what magnets are, right?”

“Yeah, we had those in my universe. At least... I think. Go on.”

“Even when our aura restores itself, it’ll be nigh impossible to concentrate it into a useful shape, much less cast a successful spell. Iron is impervious to aura anyway, so our only hope would be to break through the bricks... but I can touch the back wall of my cell and the iron bars at the same time, so it’s not as if I can remove myself from the iron’s area of effect... We’d have about as much luck trying to dig through the bricks using our fingernails.”

“Okay, so, what’s the plan then?” Kendrick sighed. “How do we get out of here without magic?”

There was a slight pause before Bellara’s answer. “Unless you have a better idea, I suggest we try to feign conversion over the next few days. We can’t do it right away or our insincerity will be too obvious. Pretend to resist for another day or two, then...” She sighed deeply. “I don’t know. Hope we can convince them to let us out of here with enough time to escape the Dark Lord’s invasion of Kanthos.”

“That’s your plan? Wither away in these cells while we try to convince our captors to play nice and let us out, just so we can run away? That’s a nice plan, except for the fact that it sucks and I hate it!”

“I said ‘unless you have a better idea,’ so do you? Let’s hear it!”

Kendrick’s pause was longer still. “Screw it. I’m trying the fingernail thing.” He glared at the pitch black wall next to him, pretending he was glaring at Bellara. “You know, none of this would have happened if you would have just trusted me about Gydeon. I knew something was off about that guy.”

“Forgive me for wanting an extra set of hands as we try to stop the world’s most powerful dark sorcerer and thwart a god! Forgive me for wanting to afford Gydeon the same patience I gave you. Are you wanting to hear me say that you were right? That we were wrong? Will that really make you feel better? Will that do anything to get us out of here?”

He sighed. “No.”

An even longer silence followed after that, until Sahni finally broke it, startling him. “I’m sure everything will work itself out,” she said quietly.

He had a hard time imagining how that would even happen.

He had every reason to believe they were doomed.

***

Morrolf returned the following day for a morning service. Kendrick found it jarring how the old man donned a veil of kindness that day, after how bitterly mean, cruel, and angry he was the previous day. He’s just insane, Kendrick thought. After the introductory blessings and a painfully discordant hymn sung by Morrolf alone, it was time for a small breakfast to be distributed while they listened to the spoken sermon itself.

“After what happened last time?” Kendrick snorted. “I’ll pass.”

Morrolf scowled at him at first, but then his face suddenly sweetened as he smiled benevolently at them. “You’ll have to forgive me for that little ruse yesterday...” I don’t have to forgive shit, old man, Kendrick argued in his head. “...but I can assure you that no one has tampered with this food. See?” He broke off a piece of the loaf he was to divide among them and ate it. He poured water from a jug into a small wooden bowl and drank it, and then he smiled that off-putting smile again. “Satisfied?”

As it had been well over a half day since any of them had had anything to eat, they reluctantly agreed. Kendrick deferred to Bellara’s judgment about whether to consume all of it. “That was delicious,” she announced from her cell. “Thank you!”

“You are most welcome, dear,” Morrolf replied with a smile. “Now then, where was I? Ah, yes. The Sect of the Skyfather was first founded...”

Kendrick tuned out the remainder of the sermon and attacked his meager meal of bread and water. It was gone in moments. The bread was dry, bland, and tough, and the water was lukewarm. It was one of the worst things he’d eaten in the Ecumene, but then again, it was the first time he’d been truly desperate for food and with no other options. Delectable tavern fare, sweet, nutritious wild fruits, and even the salted rations they ate on the road were all far more enjoyable. Looking across the hall, he saw Sahni nibbling on it as well with a grimace on her face.

This sucks so damn much. I just want to be out of here. He found himself thinking that even another fight with a demon would be preferable to the prison.

“I’ll see you all later this day for supper and another service,” Morrolf told them casually as if they were part of his ordinary congregation. “Aldiel’s peace be with you all.” Thunk. The iron door slammed shut.

“Bellara,” Kendrick said loudly.

“Shhh,” she answered. A short while later, she added, “Have to give him time to walk away from the prison before we talk. There’s a small window at the end of this hall, I suppose for ventilation. What is it?”

“Did you really eat the food?”

“Yes. There was no hint of fairybane in it that I could detect. Even if he’s not a magic user, he’d fall victim to the poisoning if he were to eat it, too. I’ll give a signal if I ever smell or taste the extract again... It’ll be the word ‘splendid.’ How about that?”

Kendrick nodded. Then, realizing she could not see him, said, “That sounds good. Thanks.”

They passed the day making idle chitchat, Bellara and Sahni sang songs they learned as little girls, and Kendrick introduced them to the game I Spy. “So, you just say the color of something and other people try to guess what it is?” Sahni asked.

“It has to be something you can currently see, but yeah,” Kendrick replied. “So, if we were under a mushplum tree, you could say ‘I spy with my little eye something green.’ Then maybe I’d ask if it was a leaf, you’d say no, and if Bellara asked if it was a mushplum, you’d say yes. Make sense?” Sahni nodded from her cell, smiling her innocent smile. “Do you want to start?”

“Yes! This does sound like fun. Okay, let me think... I spy something... No, sorry! Let me try again. I spy, with my little eye, something... brown?” She looked at him expectantly.

“Is it... the bricks?” Bellara asked.

“No,” Sahni replied.

“Is it my boots?” said Kendrick.

“Yes! You win!” She clapped for him. “Now you become the spy, correct?”

He couldn’t help but grin back at her genuine enthusiasm for such a simple children’s game. She’s got such a positive attitude and a sweet demeanor, he thought. For a brief moment, for reasons he didn’t understand, he imagined her in a cozy Ecumene home raising children, smiling at him from an open front door. He blushed. “Uh, yes, yep, that’s correct! Moving on! So, I spy, with my little eye, something... blue!”

“Is it Sahni’s hair?” Bellara chimed in.

Kendrick smirked. “How’d you guess?”

“With this wealth of blue objects all around us, it must have been beginner’s luck. Now, let’s see here... I spy, with my little eye, something black.”

“Is it the bars?”

“Yep. There isn’t much else for me to see from my cell. Bars, bricks, my cot, and myself.”

No one said anything for a little while before Kendrick added, “I guess it’s one of those games that’s more fun when you play it on the road.”

“We can play it again when we get out of here,” said Sahni.

He nodded at her. “Yeah. When we get out of here...”

***

Time moved slower than ever inside the prison. It felt like another lifetime had passed by the time supper arrived and the service began. More blessings, another cringe-inducing poorly sung hymn, and more bread and water doled out between the three of them. Kendrick realized that Morrolf must have been feeding them mid-service in order to get them to associate his sermons with the relief of being able to eat again. The old bastard is probably just manipulating us, he realized. How many of his other converts were duped by this same strategy?

“Sleep well, my disciples in training,” said Morrolf as he was about to leave, “and may the peace of the Overworld shine down upon you even in darkness.” Thunk. The door again.

Once enough time had passed to assume the old man was gone, Bellara said, “You know, I didn’t drink much of the fairybane. I was never truly incapacitated. My head ached, and I felt queasy, but I was awake through the whole ordeal. They carried us in here and laid us out on the floor before putting us in our cells, but before they did that, the cleric ordered Gydeon to whip himself with a flail. All the while, he prayed over his own son and made him self-flagellate again and again. It was so horrible that I wished I had drunk the whole jug of poisoned ale and slept through it.”

“I thought I dreamed that,” Kendrick said. “This is so beyond... fucked up.” He didn’t know how else to put it.

“Another day down,” said Sahni. “Another day closer to the day we finally escape from here. Right?”

Kendrick could hear Bellara sigh even from another cell. “That’s right...” She didn’t sound too convinced, but rather like she was trying not to break Sahni’s optimism. “No, really, you are right. We have to get out of here and back on the road east... Tomorrow I’m going to ask a question during the first service and then two more in the second one. The day after, I think you two should ask questions, and I’ll start to act more engaged with the service and ask lots more questions, as many as the old man will answer without getting annoyed. If he lets me out first, I’ll demolish half this damn prison and break you both out. But I’m hoping he’ll let us all out for a service with the rest of his cult sooner than that.”

Kendrick rested his head against the wall behind him. “We will get out of here. We have to get out of here. It just might take some time. Right?”

“Right,” the other two said in unison.

“We’ll make it out of here. All of us. I promise.”

It was once again too dark to see Sahni clearly, and barely light enough to see his own hands in front of his face. He bid his fellow inmates goodnight and lay down for another night of irregular sleep.

***

“We have got to get out of here,” said Kendrick. “Now. Do you have your essentials?”

“Kendrick, are you—yeah, sure, let’s just go,” said the silhouette.

He sat down and closed the car door next to him. It was snowing outside, just a light dusting, and the air was cold but not frigid, just barely enough to see his breath in front of him. The other silhouette closed the passenger door and he started the car.

“Come on,” he muttered. He could feel his teeth clenching—was that part of the memory/dream, or was he doing so in the real world, in the Ecumene? The thought felt oddly out of place, like thinking about the process was somehow forbidden, so he ignored it. “Go, you piece of shit, go! Come ON! Dammit!” He hit the steering wheel repeatedly, squeezing it with both hands and rocking in his seat. “Okay. Let me figure this out.”

He pressed a button and pulled back a lever in the car. “Are you sure you know how to do this?” the silhouette asked.

“Yes, okay?! Yes! It’s just been a while. Shut up and let me... concentrate for a second...” The silhouette was silent after that, and he felt guilty for the way he’d spoken. The car was moving now, down a street with other car-like shapes that blurred in blobs and blob-shaped buildings scrolling past on either side of the street.

Suddenly, he slammed on the brakes. There was another shape in front of their car. It didn’t seem friendly.

“Just try to stay low, Kendrick.” The silhouette ducked down in the seat, trying to make itself invisible. Kendrick did the same. “Low... and quiet...” The silhouette was whispering now. “Keep your head down... We’ll make it out of here. Both of us. I promise.”

He looked up at the driver’s side window of his vehicle just in time to see it shatter. The silhouette screamed.

***

When Kendrick opened his eyes, it was breakfast time.

It also felt unseasonably cold in his cell, colder than it had been at any other point during his stay in the Ecumene. He could see his breath in front of him just like in his dream.

The iron door of the jail opened thunderously and he heard footsteps scuffing along the floor. They weren’t the old, confident, slow footfalls Kendrick was used to hearing—these were smaller and quicker. It was Gydeon who appeared on the other side of the bars.

“It’s you,” Kendrick said, stifling a shiver from the cold. “Morning.”

Gydeon had a cut on his cheek and was shivering openly. He had a fearful look on his face, unable to look Kendrick in the eye for more than a moment at a time. “Good morning to you as well, Kendrick.” When he turned around to hand Sahni her portion of bread and water through the bars, Kendrick noticed a few red striations showing on the back of his neck, barely hidden by the collar of his tunic.

“Good morning, Gydeon,” Sahni said pleasantly. “Where is your father? Is he feeling well today?”

Gydeon served Kendrick his breakfast before answering. “F-Father is off praying with the... congregation today. There’ve been some encroachments since late yesterday... into the night...” He left to serve the remainder to Bellara. “Shades, mostly, but also some imps. We were able to slay some with conventional weapons and farm implements. We’re all right so far. No major injuries.”

“Shades and imps?” Kendrick repeated. “That’s it? You do realize you could waste all of them with a spell or two, right?”

Gydeon hesitated. “It is not my place to disrespect the will of Aldiel in that way. We are doing the right thing by not giving in to the temptation of magic...” He stepped up to the bars of Kendrick’s cell again and looked at him apologetically. “I am truly sorry for letting you see... my faith at its weakest moment. I should not have cast that spell. It was wrong of me. Foolish. It will never happen again. I swear to Aldiel Above, if I ever cast another spell as long as I live, then may the infernal invaders slay me on the battlefield.”

“Forgive us, Gydeon,” said Bellara. “My friend is still... struggling with some questions. We all are, I think. But I wonder if I could be permitted to join you in prayer with the rest of the congregation. I feel compelled to lift up my words to the Skyfather as well.”

Gydeon shook his head. “No, no, I’m afraid I can’t do that. Sorry. My father gave me strict orders not to free you. Not yet. Now... your chamber pots, please.”

“Not gonna lie,” said Kendrick, grabbing the bucket in the corner of his cell, “I miss waving the magic potty crystal after doing my business. Making it all disappear. Seems more hygienic that way. And fun.” He handed it through the tiny door crafted into the bars of his cell that had a separate lock, the same one through which he received his meals. “Don’t worry, it’s still just pee. This place doesn’t feel like home yet. And, I mean, the three of us? We’re friends, but we’re not that close, you know?”

Gydeon frowned at him. “You are trying to make jokes with me, Kendrick. I understand that.” He emptied the three smaller buckets into one larger one just as Morrolf had done the day before. “But you should focus less on joking around and more on prayer and meditating on your sins. Perhaps your faith can help drive out the dark ones from Tornbie.”

“There will be more where those came from,” Bellara said just as Gydeon was about to leave. “They’ll come in droves. Even more if they’re heralding the arrival of a demon. I know you disagree with magic, but it might not be so bad if it can save lives here in Tornbie. Don’t you want to give your fellow villagers, your friends and family, a better chance than those who died in Wallbyrde?”

At this, Gydeon spun around and shot her a fierce look, though she could not see it. Kendrick could. “If those in Wallbyrde had simply believed, like I told them to do, and offered up true prayers to Aldiel, they’d still be alive!” He was furious now, leaking spittle from his chin just like they’d seen Morrolf do on the day they arrived in Tornbie. “When the imps came, and when the jinn descended on that place, I had to let it burn. I had to show them that I could resist the temptation to use magic! I told them to pray, I even told them how... but I am not half the minister my father is, and my faith was still weak.” Kendrick heard him sniffle once. “But this is different. Tornbie is full of true believers, and my faith has been made strong again. We will endure anything the Underworld throws our way, and we will do so without casting a single spell!”

Bellara banged on an iron bar. “Gydeon, if you don’t use magic, and if you don’t let us out of here, everyone in Tornbie will die! All of us. You, your father, and everyone else you care about. Is that what you want to see happen?”

Gydeon spat disgustedly on the floor. “You sound just like my mother. She dabbled in magic as well. Tell me, witch...” He had that same practiced hatred in his voice. “Do you see her around here anywhere? No. That’s because she had no faith.” The iron door creaked with Gydeon’s departure. “I suggest you find yours before it’s too late.” Thunk.

Kendrick remembered the mountain shrine they’d found on the way to Tornbie, just before the imps had stolen the aurimeter. The blood on the altar. The prayer to Aldiel written by hand and nailed to the post. We offer You this unbeliever as atonement. May his blood quench Your thirst for justice and make this place clean once again. He shivered in earnest now, vapor puffing out of his mouth with each breath. His imprisonment had never felt more hopeless than in this moment.

Then he noticed the shade in the corner of his cell.

It crept up from the floor to the wall, stretching vertically as though standing. If Kendrick let his eyes defocus in just the right way, he could see shade after shade, on the walls of his cell, creeping along the floor in the hall, and in Sahni’s cell, too. They were everywhere.

“I see them, too, Kendrick,” said Sahni. “I’m sorry again that we ever laughed at you for fearing them. Remember? On your first day?” He nodded. “I was so used to having magic... that I forgot what it was like to be defenseless against one.”

“They must have come in through the door when Gydeon opened it,” said Bellara. “Iron repels them, but they’re two-dimensional—as long as there’s a gap between the bars, they can squeeze through. Aldzin!” Kendrick heard a small pop like sparks from a fire. “Damn this! I can’t do anything! I can barely even manifest my aura, let alone use it! Aldzin!” Another ineffective pop of nothing.

Kendrick cowered in the opposite corner of his cell, his eyes darting back and forth trying desperately to track the menacing movements of each shade. Fear, helplessness, depression... His worst feelings crept up on him and seized him with a grip stronger than the iron that locked him in place.

But it was nothing compared to the fear that was about to find him.

“Stay away from the bars!” Bellara shouted. “Gydeon! Gydeon, can you hear us? Help!”

Kendrick heard claws scratching the floor—a moment later, a small pack of imps skittered down the hall. Several jumped onto the bars of his cell. Their grotesque mandibles clicked hungrily at him and at Sahni as the imps tried to force their fat heads through the gaps. He realized that without the Psysword, and without any working knowledge of magic, he’d be done for if the imps managed to squeeze through the bars. They were trying to do just that—like their lives depended on it.

“Shit,” said Kendrick. “I’m about to die in here.”