Judas curled up in his blankets. Julie had been asleep for at least an hour. She stirred fitfully. Anguished memories haunted her dreams, and would for some time to come. When he wasn’t worrying about her, his thoughts returned to Ms. Pleasure’s dungeon. He swallowed hard.

Julie’s sharp anger had been biting, her words scathing, and her gaze vehement. She utterly detested him, and he couldn’t blame her. He wished it wasn’t so but wishes never manifested. Julie’s life had been in mortal peril more times than he cared to admit, nearly dying minutes after they met, but to be fair, they were hunting him, not her. Someone attempted her life in Dlad City, leaving her for dead. And now, the Corridor tried to claim her sanity which was just as permanent as death.

The warlock wanted to comfort her, but he realized that’d only drive a wider rift between them. She needed her angst, the only thing she could control. There were occasions when she ranted that Judas took offense to, but he bit back his retorts as to not impair reconciliation between them.

His guilt for dragging her through the Corridor burrowed deep, festering. He should’ve rendered more protection and guidance. She was an infant in magical terms, couldn’t defend herself or discern any part of this enchanting world. The grip of unbelievable remorse pawed at him, and he chastised himself for risking her well-being. If anything happened to her, especially mentally, he’d never forgive himself. The thought of him being responsible for her madness revolted him—if dementia ever took root.

Setting his role of master aside, Judas tried to empathize as a parent. He remembered fond fantasies about watching his child sleep at night, worrying that nothing harrowing befell them, but he never got the chance. He experienced the emotive punch to the gut as he slipped into those shoes once again, pretending for a brief moment that Julie was his daughter. The blame and dishonor intensified. No amount of penitence would ever be enough.

He felt sickened by his actions or lack thereof.

Inexcusable.

Judas, overwhelmed by a torrent of emotions, fervently hoped the mental wounds would heal with time and distance; it was too early to tell. She endured severities at Mr. Pleasure’s hands, scarred for the rest of her life. Eventually, slumber attended the aggrieved warlock.

He awoke to crushing despair, his worst suspicion taking shape. The malevolent glee vibrating through his body wasn’t his own. Xilor was nigh to completing the task he languished to finish. Unfortunately, the Corridor distorted time, and Judas sensed either the aftermath of Xilor’s achievement or a premonition of imminent fruition.

He bolted upright, flinging his blanket aside. Without the aid of his wand, he called upon his essence, the camp tucking neatly away on its own. Hurried steps carried him to Julie’s side, but he faltered as he neared. His brows knitted as he scrutinized her. She spoke in her visiting nightmare. Curiosity nagged at him. He gently stretched out, caressing her subconsciousness, much like he did when she arrived.

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What he saw turned his stomach. She faced another trial. The effects went beyond her waking mind and attacked her in a subconscious state. Judas, unsure how long she experienced the barrage, shook her.

“Get up, child!”

His vision swam, seeing her corporeal form and the phantasm simultaneously. She floundered, wanting to stay in the delusion, enduring the torture.

“I said get up!” he shouted, shaking her.

Her eyes snapped open, her hands holding her forehead. The link between them remained a few heartbeats longer before fading, and the sudden pain she suffered echoed through him, a sharp stab through his forehead. He eased the anguish with the aid of his conjury and soothed Julie’s away.

“What’s going on?” she said, groggily. “You died…”

“Never mind that,” he said urgently. “We must leave, now!” Tension riddled his posture.

“What’s going on?”

“The Corridor was affecting you while you slept; it’s no longer safe for you to remain. I interrupted whatever it was attempting to do. We must leave now; something’s wrong. Time’s against us, and we must make one more stop before our destination.”

“How do you know something is wrong? How are we getting out of here?” She wiped tears away from her face.

“The place is many things,” he began, choosing his words carefully but delivering them in a rush. “Two parts of a whole, a testing ground and also a focal point. When something of great magnitude happens in the world, it may not be perceived by those that are close by, but here, strong surges reverberate within the Corridor. Though time bends differently for us here than those on the outside, something’s happening now, as we speak, or may have already happened, or soon will. Whichever the case, it’s throwing the chaotic harmony of the Corridor out of consistency with itself. Over time, it’ll reach a state of tranquility, but for now, the instability isn’t tenable. We need to leave.”

“I don’t understand.” Julie shook her head.

“Think of it this way: the world is a pond, and a pebble dropped in causes ripples hardly noticed by a duck floating nearby. Inside the Corridor, they’re perceived as massive waves, and they can destroy things in its path, namely us. As far as us getting out, do you remember me telling you that magic is all about the power of the mind?”

She nodded.

“That’s how we get out. You’re supposed to achieve passage on your own, in your own time, but celerity is required. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Good.” He slung his pack on his back and Julie mirrored him. “I’m overriding this place’s hold over you. I want to tell you how to gain the achievement of getting out, but it’s best if you learned yourself. In time, you’ll see a repeating relationship between your tests and the key to success.”

She shook her head. “I have no intention of returning!”

Judas snatched up her arm and began walking away from the camp. “You’ll have to ultimately, whether you plan to or not.”

The familiar cold tingle of teleportation washed over both of them, but they didn’t teleport. The air shimmered, shook noticeably, fighting against the warlock’s conjury and intent. After a few moments, Judas broke through and stepped forward, still herding Julie by the arm. The oppressive presence faded away, and a foreign landscape greeted the pair.

“We must be away,” he intoned. “We must hurry to the Swamp of Sorrow, and then, to Wizard’s Pass. Something terrible is amiss, I fear.”

Taking her hand, the cool effects and fog of teleportation settled over them. In a blink of an eye, they were moving once again—faster than thought.