“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Judas offered, his voice gentle. She sobbed in his arms as he offered words of comfort, the silence between them only punctuated by her sobs. After a time, trembling with exhaustion, he carried her away from the doorway, away from Mr. Pleasure and the vile memories. Judas called upon magic to rejuvenate her, and she felt better. She’d either been unable to move or unwilling, so the burden fell to him. Through the journey, she cried on his shoulder, shaking with exhaustion. Once he came to a clearing, he called upon his essence, unrolling her sleeping blankets, and placed her gently within the folds. Julie curled up, her back to him as he shuffled off to start a fire and supper.

The pot simmered, and the fire crackled and spat. The aroma of potatoes, carrots, and beef wafted through the air. Julie heard his stomach gurgle, and hers did, too. The scent filled the evening air, driving away the despair suffocating her. On the morning she went through the doorway, the thick slug he cooked was heavenly compared to the stench of her captor’s dungeon. Without realizing it, she hadn’t eaten anything since she went through the doorway.

How long ago was that?

She tried to ignore the phantoms of the fat man but failed. After everything she went through, her thoughts kept returning to what he said the first time she awoke in his dungeon, the one moment of truth. No one would ever know how grateful she was for her life, and she vowed never to be so weak that it could be taken from her. She vividly remembered his warning: “If you survive, you’ll appreciate the pain of other things—the things of the world—and they’re nothing compared to what I’m going to do to you. In that, you may find comfort, for your life will be painless compared to this.”

Anguish washed through her, realizing the veracity of his statements. Though a monster, psychotic, his honesty made him more forthright than Judas had ever been. Her master was supposed to protect her, a solemn vow when he pulled her into this world, and he failed.

Utterly.

“How many times?” Her shaky whisper shattered the brittle silence. The rest of the sentence went unvoiced. Rolling to her back, she scrutinized Judas, recognizing it pained him to tell her how many times she died.

“Thirty-eight times,” he finally said. The fire hissed in the stretching silence between them. “I’ve never heard of anyone going that many times without succumbing to madness. I died eleven times before I figured it out. But that was a long time ago…”

“You possessed training.” A child commanded more discipline than her; she was just beginning to tap into her abilities. There was so much she didn’t know, and Judas was less than forthcoming with instruction. Julie saw guilt dance across his face, his azure eyes full of sorrow and compassion.

“You don’t realize how sorry I am,” he said. “It’s my fault for dragging you through the Corridor. We should’ve circumvented it or, at least, I should’ve taken the lead. I should’ve protected you!” he said, his eyes watering.

“Yes, you should have. But you didn’t!” she snapped, her dander rising. “Where the fuck were you when I needed you?”

Ire flashed in his eyes at her cursing, but he let it go. Wise of him. She had the right to be angry and mentioning it would only make it worse. “As helpless as you,” he countered softly. “While you were detained, Ms. Pleasure ensnared me.”

Julie’s face paled. “There are two of them?”

“She made me watch your torture,” he explained, his voice bitter. “The hardest thing I’ve ever done, and I never want to do it again. You have no idea the unfathomable remorse I harbor for not being there. I can never forgive myself.”

Judas had failed her. He’d said before the Corridor remained silent to him, having mastered its cruelties. Had that been a lie? An idle boast? Or did he tell the truth, his helplessness equivalent to hers? With a tender stretch, she called her essence. Her magic responded instantly, and she reached out, sensing Judas emotions. He spoke the truth; she discerned his guilt beyond all doubt, but legitimacy didn’t sway the fact that he’d jeopardized her wellbeing. Beneath his sorrow, almost undetectable, interred doubt. Julie couldn’t decipher the focus of his indecision. Uncertainty aside, she found his failure unforgivable.

“Why?”

“Why what?” he asked, unable to look her in the eye.

“Why rescue me at all, or let it go on for so long?” She shot to her feet, bellowing. “Why did he promise to set me free that last time?” Anger gushed from her, explosive, powerful. A surge of her essence crackled. “I could’ve gone insane from what he did to me! Have you no remorse? Have you no heart!” Her head swam, the intoxicating effects of the magic nearly made her sway.

The wrath made her feel unstoppable, therapeutic, as it had in the dungeon.

“You didn’t know, did you?” he muttered. “You couldn’t remember what I told you.” His eyes moved to Julie’s shaking hands, watching her fight for control.

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Her chest heaved. “What are you talking about?”

He looked her in the eye. “I told you the Corridor would test you in ways you never thought possible. I warned you, blatantly, but you didn’t remember. I hoped that after a few times, you’d remember.” He shook his head in sorrow, burying his face in his hands. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” she yelled. “I don’t give a shit that you’re sorry; sorry doesn’t help me! What about the rods jammed into my fingers? The skin flayed from my arms? I’ll live with those images for the rest of my life! You warned me? Blatantly? Obviously, it wasn’t enough because I didn’t get it!”

Her head hurt, a dull ache rising with each heartbeat into a pulsing throb. The pain spread from her temples and came to rest behind her eyes.

“The warning I gave you,” Judas intoned faintly. “You asked if there was anything that could destroy you and I said, ‘No, it can’tdestroy your body; but if you let it get in your mind, you’ll shatter like glass. Magic is in the power of the mind as is this place.’ I also said, ‘The most important advice I could give you is to believe what your soul tells you about this place, not your eyes. This place is all about the power of your mind and your ability to see through the perceived realities and lies.’ I figured you’d see through the perceived reality.”

“That’s just asinine!” she screamed. Despite her hunger and her coursing rage, mental and physical exhaustion overcame her. Even though her displeasure focused on Judas, she noticed his honesty. He hadn’t held anything back. Mr. Pleasure’s proverb returned, even though hurt by her master’s failure, it was insubstantial to what she suffered.

Leaving supper and the argument behind, she returned to her blankets, curling up with her back to Judas and the fire. With her face away, she let the silent tears come, both of sorrow and relief. Her entire journey shook the fragile faith she placed in her master, rending whatever bond they tried to establish.

She desperately yearned to belong, to be a part of something greater than herself. Judas opened the door of possibilities, attempted to guide and protect her; the latter proved counterproductive, if not almost fatal. A wedge manifested in their relationship. She thought she’dfound purpose with him, but now, she saw her flawed belief. She still loved aspects of him, his genteel nature, his gentle, guiding hand. Perhaps love was too strong of a word. But he filled the role of a father because gods only knew what happened to her real parents. Is it possible to care for someone and not trust them? She distinguished the difference between loving someone and hating what they do. Again, in silence, she envied his children. Despite his faults, he was a great man, her cornerstone, mentor, friend.

Her master.

A master’s role delicately balanced between being a guide through murky, untested waters, and as a protector against enemies that lurked beyond her vision. He failed at what it meant to be a master, leaving her defenseless. Julie lacked power and the cognitive faculties to deal with the abhorrent tribulations here. What lay beyond this tiny strip of land straddling the Abyss? What new horror would rise from the darkness?

Fatigue overcame her, and she courted sleep’s embrace.

Even in her dreams, she couldn’t escape. Judas’s inflicted pain didn’t compare to Mr. Pleasure, but the wound Judas levied rent her soul. The fault didn’t rest with her, and the blame didn’t lean solely on Judas’s shoulders, but she wanted someone to blame, and he proved the easiest scapegoat. The voice hiding in the shadows of her mind blamed Judas, its lambasting brontide in her dreams. The stronger the voice spoke, the more it whittled away her mental barriers. The voice poised and doubt strangulated her, both inescapable.

I don’t belong here. I’m not the one prophesied. Why can’t anyone see it but me?

But Julie couldn’t flee her misgivings or the voice in her dreams. As she slept, the tenebrous voice soothed her with oily words, and Mr. Pleasure’s face plagued her mind, his leering smile hovering close.

Sunrise brought relief, liberated from sneers of guilty pleasures, and none of them hers. Her head throbbed from dehydration. The sun burned strangely bright, and the fire turned to fine ashes. Fresh dew graced the dried earth.

Julie rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Though clothed in fresh robes, the early morning chill warned her to remain in her blankets. Her breath formed a noticeable wisp. She shook her head, her hair splaying about her shoulders. She stifled the yawn as she stood. Judas normally had breakfast prepared, his cheerful voice agitating her, but only silence prevailed. He still slumbered; Judas always rose before her.

She traipsed past the fire pit and nudged him. “Judas,” she said quietly. He did not stir. “Judas!” she said a little louder, this time shaking him. In the stillness, she eyed him for a moment and realized his chest did not rise. “JUDAS!”

She rolled him on his back, his azure eyes open and distant, cloudy and veiled. He stared into the world beyond, the Underworld. His pale skin was cold to the touch. Though she didn’t want to admit it, she knew the truth.

All her repressed emotions crashed against her, a tidal wave breaching the shore. She sobbed and grieved. Knowing that he encroached the autumn years of his life, she hadn’t realized his time was so near. Hot, glistening trails marred her face, cutting rivulets of dirt and dust, droplets smattering her hands and splashing her dead master’s face. She hugged his chest as if their lives intertwined the span of her years, domesticated, familial. She didn’t want to believe.

How could this happen? she thought. He was fine last night. What am I going to do now? I have no guide! I’m not ready.

She wondered if guilt had killed him in his sleep. She stayed there for another minute or an eternity, she couldn’t tell which. What did it matter? How long she stayed, she could never recall.

A hand clutched her shoulder, jarring her out of reverie, and for a moment she thought Mr. Pleasure had come for her again, that it was all a test. In a panic, she spun, flinging the arm off her shoulder, drawing her wand, ready to eviscerate. She pointed her wand at the intruder, only to see … the same man who also lay on the ground.

“Get up, child.” his stern, urgent voice commanded.

“Who are … What … How—?”

“I said get up!” he thundered, his hands shaking her body.

Her eyes snapped open, and the nightmare faded.