When William first began healing people, he feared he'd botch it. Then he'd enjoyed it. He'd like to see sick people rise and be healthy. Eventually, he'd viewed it as a kind of heroic cause. One man against all the plagues the world could muster.

Then William started to feel put up, like a man trying to hold a bridge in vain against unending tides. Each person he slew was saved instead of killed, and the villages behind him stayed safe.

Now William was just sick of it.

Jehair rarely assisted, usually spending her time scouting and collecting herbs. She was able to teach him a thing or two about the use of medicine. But since he never ran out of healing power, that was of no use. So it became a miserable slog through the mud toward a destination he would never reach. With enemies all around and flies biting.

He sent those who were filthy to be washed after he healed them, but he hardly had time himself.

And at last, they entered Blackfear.

It really lived up to expectations. There was no gradual fading of the trees or natural barrier. One moment they were walking in healthy woodlands, free and unencumbered. Then the next, everyone was black and terrible. The trees twisted, made several more attacks, and had to be fended off. The roots groped at their feet, and it took many prayers from Jehair to drive them off.

And finally, they emerged.

Into a far, blackened country beneath a cloudless sky as the wind howled around them. It was a simple void, with swirling vortexes of green the only mark and red. Dark things peered down on them, or William was a fool. And the land, though there was no visible source of light. It stood in perpetual, half-lit illumination. The ground was alive but black and tainted by the feet of evil things. And everywhere they went was the stench of rotting vegetation.

At a spring that Jehair brought them to, they refreshed themselves. Yet the cold water seemed to claw at their faces. Though it did not hurt the flesh, William felt it pained him more than a thousand fly bites.

"Well, you've become quite the charmer," said Felix.

"That is purely Elranor working through me, Felix. I deserve only partial credit," said William.

"Are you alright?" Felix had been off lately, and he wondered why. Perhaps it was a changed nature, William. Felix had always been the one who was more assertive and stronger. In Artarq, they'd had a mutual authority in Vanion, almost equals on the battlefield.

Now it was the same dynamic, but William was stronger.

"I admit, I took some personal satisfaction from watching this place fall to bits," said Felix.

"Well, Antion does treat slaves exceptionally poorly," said William. "It infuriates me to see the country that Duke Vanion has served so faithfully brought so low. It ill befits the Harlenorian race.

"...And this all seems too much of a detour. At the rate we are going, we may miss the tournament." And assault came on him to his spirit, and looking about, he saw the hills of Blackfear leering about them.

Low snarls could be heard, but Jehair paid them no mind, looking helpless.

"What do you care about the tournament, Felix?" asked William. "You've never had much interest in swordplay."

"It's a good opportunity," said Felix. "You can take the measure of the nobility there and learn the nature of their character." More snarls and William went for his sword, but Jehair caught it.

"Drink," said Jehair.

William did so. The water pained the tongue, and an air of hopelessness fell on him. It was crystal clear, but it fought his enjoyment. Getting it down his throat was pain incarnate, and he swallowed as though it was bile. It refreshed, but no joy was given.

William hated every stone of this place.

And decided he'd do something about it.

"Yes, I suppose you are right," said William. "But we've got to do what we can to help against the troubles that have been happening. It would be no good if the whole place collapsed on itself while we won the tournament."

"You overestimate your part in things," said Jehair sadly.

William said nothing. He remembered well Jehair's secret councils with King Faras. And with that, her many offhand statements. However much he might want to trust her, he did not.

She might be his guide for the moment, yet she had some other agenda here. The only question was, what?

And keep moving, they did.

But it only got worse as the ground seemed to grip at their feet, and they brought stenches of rotting corpses. They walked and saw festering, stinking marshlands but no people. Only an occasional burnt-out husk, long abandoned, where people had once dwelled.

"Bah," said Massacre, sniffing as she loped forward.

"Massacre, you've returned. What news?" asked William.

"Bah," said Massacre.

"So, there have been problems with disease in the domain of Neral Dinis?" asked William.

"Bah," said Massacre.

"I see," said William. "Then we'd best hurry there as quick as possible; one Jehair has gotten back. I want to be able to come back from Gel Carn before the fighting starts."

"We might still join the King's Road by moving west," said Jehair. "Neral Dinis has no bandits in his domain, for undead stalk it instead, preying on those who live. So we would be safe on it."

"Are there no militia?" asked William, surprised.

"No, or very few," said Jehair. "This area saw the use of militia fall by the wayside in favor of farming and mercantile. Neral Dinis exploited it when he was given power. So now they fear him, and warriors tend to be hit first.

"Though it has always held a penchant for the undead. Sylvar commands them and drives them to prey on the living."

Eventually, they came to where the earth was rent and pitted. Here it was difficult to move without going through creators. Jehair knew the way, however.

And then the snarls became roars. Shambling, mottled, decaying corpses came forward from the ground. Their hands might as well have been claws for their decays. Their tongues lolled from broken teeth. The air around them stank with decay, and their eyes were wild when they weren't rotting.

Bounding on all fours like dogs, William hardly got his sword out before they rushed at them.

Jehair spun her scythe in one move, yet three lost their heads. Another strike cleaved two more down, and a third a final one. William knocked one away with his shield and finished it with a low. Felix hewed two while darting between shadows. Jehair slashed down two with hardly changing positions. Then three more as they came at William.

Massacre breathed her flames at them and roasted them. Yet they ran forward with the flame nonetheless. William cleaved another, then another, bashed down a third, and then was born down. Flaming jaws were over him, and he nearly lost his grip on his sword as they were on him. They bit at his armor, trying to pull it off, and a deadly chill fell over him. But he thrashed, smashing and throwing them off. Rising up in his armor was difficult, even with the blood haze, but he was desperate and mad.

Hewing wildly, he cleaved down too, and another for good measure. Massacre breathed her flames behind him, setting them afire. And her mighty paws smashed down several more. Felix was slashing from the shadows. But the ghouls were coming mostly at Jehair, and William saw she was yielding ground. No matter how fast her strokes, they were encircling her.

"Jehair is in need! To her!" cried William.

And rushing forward, he slashed wildly, cutting limbs and heads as black blood spewed. A feral rage poured from the wounds, or so he thought. Felix came to him, and Massacre smashed through the things. Jehair hewed the enemy down like a graceful assassin, her scythe killing them in waves. But there were always more, and soon the ghouls were going at Massacre too. Slashes were appearing on her.

Enraged at this, William rushed forward and attacked like a berserker. He was cleaving skulls and limbs and killing them. Yet they did not fear death and accepted it as readily as flesh. Cutting the head from one biting Massacre, he turned to shield and bash another. There he saw Jehair coming toward them. She left behind a trail of bodies, and so much the better.

It made William feel good. His vision was red, and his enemies were all around him. Yet he felt twisted joy that was not his.

It was not because they were dead. But the joy that had been denied was released from prison. Yet that made the undead attack with all the greater fury, and soon they formed a knot against the tide.

The land seemed to grow angry, and their numbers seemed limitless. Finally, William healed Massacre and then defended her with Felix.

"This is no good," said Jehair, slashing them down all the faster. "We must withdraw to higher ground."And raising a hand, she caused the land to grip the ghouls before cutting her way free of them. All of them followed and fled up a hill. As they did, a mist surrounded them, hiding their enemy. The clouds had come down to cloud their presence and their enemies. They groped forward through the filth.

Then came the music.

Joyful, beautiful music resounded, and it lifted their hearts.

"The music of Isriath is playing throughout the land," said Felix, voice slightly awed. And the mist cleared to reveal much undead falling to death. The joy that washed forth became bitter and sicky-sweet as it resounded.

"Music or no, we should move from here quickly," said Jehair. "There is more undead coming from there."

"No, undead do not tire. So we should make a stand," said William. He would not yield the battlefield to the dead unfought.

And so the undead scales the hills toward them, their eyes glowing beneath the void in hunger. They found them waiting, and William struck.

"These undead are pathetic," said Felix, cleaving them down. "They outnumber us immensely, yet they can do nothing to us."

"What are these creatures?" asked William, cleaving down two. The outpouring of joy seemed less bitter with the strokes of his blades. To labor for it seemed now better than accept it.

"Ghouls," said Jehair, cleaving down many more. "They prowl the lands of Neral Dinis, hunting at will. They were a relic of a time when the Withering King ruled these lands. And they rise now and then, in more savage and vicious form than most."

William now felt unbearable sadness as he cut down one after another. With each blow, he felt like he was feeling some ancient tree that had lived for ages. The memory of it pained him, but these creatures meant to kill them. So three times, the undead assailed the hill. And three times, they cut them down in droves.

At last, the undead drew back to gather. Jehair nodded and drew the wood she'd gathered from falling branches from her pack. "Quickly, we must start a fire, put down the firewood we prepared.

"It should ward them off and slow them for a while. After that, they do not come near towns or venture into places lit by flame."

And setting about it, they set kindle from dried leaves and burned them. As they did, the flames roared to life, bright and shining. Beneath the darkened sky, they were beautiful and spoke of hope. Enraged by the light, the undead attacked with greater fury, only to be slowed by the light. William struck down one after another, as did they all, as the flames burned ever brighter.

The spirits of the land swirled around them in hatred and fury, seeking to quench the fire. The ghouls attacked ever swifter and more aggressively, desperately seeking to reach them. Why were they not afraid of Massacre's flame?

Perhaps because her flame was not from the land but magic.

Vicious malice pushed the undead forward as they held their ground. And a spirit of formless, white malice rose skyward above them. A hand was outstretched as the tides came in, and William saw what might have been a face. More came in from behind, but Massacre withdrew to halt them and kept moving to tear them apart. Soon they were driven closer to the light of the fire, and the undead was weakened further.

No matter how many they slew, there were more.

Perhaps William could call on Isriath for support?

But, no, that was not his way.

"Elranor!" cried William. "Elranor, grant us victory!"

This seemed to enrage the undead, and they took a more intelligent attack. So that it seemed like they were in a world of walking corpses. The specter took on great form, appearing now humanoid, perhaps elven. Tendrils reached forward, and William began to tire. Felix's attacks were not as strong or swift, and Jehair was also tired. All of them had suffered minor wounds that he'd healed. Not their feet were right by the fire, and they could no longer maneuver.

'Call on us,' said a voice. 'Call on us before it is too late.'

William thought about invoking Isriath, Maius, or Chun Xi of calling them down to rescue him as Kiyora had done.

No.

Falling to one knee, William smashed a ghoul across the skull. It reeled back, bleeding copiously. But it snatched up a flaming brand; he brought it around. Again, the ghouls reeled back, and many caught flame and were burned away. "Elranor! Elranor, God of Death! Kiyora, Kiyora Goddess of Dreams!"

"The Flower Maiden," said Jehair, casting aside her scythe and grasping two brands of her own. Felix kept his sword and hewed all the faster.

Now the ghouls reeled back, for the fire that had been kindled had an unnatural brightness. And the brands burned them back, reeled back, hurled by the light more than any blade or mace. Finally, consumed in fire, their body was burned to ashes.

Light emanated from those brands, and William saw it reach out pale and bright across the land. And he perceived below many villages and hamlets, walled in where people dwelled in fear. Looking up, they saw the brightness momentarily, and he wondered what they felt. Fear? Hope? Joy?

It did not seem they'd ever find out.

The visage now took on a horrific form of a mutilated and terrible corpse. And it was descending toward them. Yet, at the very moment their lives would have been claimed, bells came ringing. Recoiling, she looked up as if in alarm, then returned to them. Yet another bell was rung, and she turned in hatred. Finally, the last bell rang, and she screamed in rage, her voice the howling of a thousand restless dead.

Thus, the sun was dimly visible for the first time, a faint light at best. And though all the darkness flurried to quench, William sensed it felt fear.

"What is this?" asked William.

"Sylvar is," said Jehair. "She has always been here."

Then, slowly but surely, the sun faded, and the world returned to a dim, unnatural twilight. And the ground hated them all the more for having once allowed the sun to look down on it. But, for his part, William did not care, for the memory of this brief victory gave him hope.

In time they could gain victory. But, then, they needed only to gain the aid of the faithful in this land.

"Let's get the hell out of here," said Felix.

"I could not agree with you more," said Jehair sadly. "Why do you insist on starting fights with every unholy creature we meet."

"I am a Paladin," said William. "I am supposed to start fights with evil creatures."

Felix shrugged. "He has a point."

And off they went, down the hill and past an abandoned and destroyed farmstead. Beyond, he could see a small, unwalled settlement with hopeless-looking people. They gazed at him with indifference and apathy. William wondered for a moment if they were undead themselves. But they were alive; he could see them breathing.

He wondered if the light had helped them.

But, soon enough, a mist of a different kind began to rise up, of red, and their feed was taking them elsewhere. William couldn't even see his own feet. "What magic is this?"

"You've gotten the attention of a powerful person in Blackfear," said Jehair. "Keep your hands near your swords."

William considered fighting against it and wondered what Elranor would do. Then, considering that this might be an opportunity for a great deed, he chose to follow. So he strode forward toward it. The others did as well, though Massacre seemed in bad spirits. The wound healing did not remove the injury. And she had a slight scar.

"Are you alright, Massacre?" asked William.

"Bah," said Massacre miserably.

"Yes, I know we're approaching the enemy," said William. "No one ever achieved greatness by running away from something."

"What about messengers who bring word of approaching armies," said Jehair. "Or men who retreat to regroup?"

"The messengers are running toward their destination," said William. "Retreating is a tactical action."

"Not necessary," said Jehair. "You could have to swallow your pride and face humiliation or death to save the army. There is glory in that."

William considered that. Glory resulted from personal power and growth, which would be an act of strength. But a greater glory was to master one's own agenda for the sake of another. "I see your point.

"But I think people have been running in Blackfear their entire lives. I can't imagine they've been trying to hunt these creatures. Not one person came to our aid, and we were clearly fighting well.

"If they were willing to engage the undead, they would have there. But, unfortunately, there are no patrols, and some villages have no defenses. I can only assume they stay indoors and hope to be left alone."

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

"It is a good survival strategy," said Felix.

"For a person," said William. "It is unbefitting a Harlenorian. And judging from the records, many of these people have been enslaved and done nothing."

"Quiet now," said Jehair. "The mist is ending."

They came out of the mist, and William saw the oddest thing he'd ever seen before him.

It was a majestic carnival with a red, yellow, and violet-colored cloth. There were lights and music in the air, and he could see strange figures dancing. Beautiful women, and also jugglers and dwarves and others. Yet something was wrong here; the more he looked at it, the odder it seemed.

And he noticed a cloaked figure to one side, face hidden, writing.

The people here had... empty eyes.

"Welcome to the Carnival of Souls!" said an enthusiastic voice. And above them, perched on a wire, William saw a radiantly beautiful woman. She had faintly tanned skin with a long mane of blonde hair that flowed around her with bangs over her eyes. Her huge bosom was packed into a white corset that bared her shoulders. She wore a short, dark skirt beneath it and long leggings. A violet cloak surrounded her, tied around her neck by yellow cloth. "A place of pure emotional experience."

Light flashed through her. She was obscured on the wire before appearing on the ground where the light had ended. Her eyes were closed, showing off her long, dark lashes and violet-painted lips. "Every emotional experience under the sun is available in this place." Her eyes opened, and she smiled as she drew out a deck of cards. "But it is in the cards that you decide which one."

"What is this carnival?" asked William. "What are you talking about?"

The woman fanned out the deck before shuffling them with one hand. The act sent many mesmerizing colors into the air. Those around her seemed attuned to the energy as the shuffling continued. Then the light faded, and William saw she had a long mane of golden hair. "Welcome, noble Paladin.

"The name is Mai Valens."

"And honor to meet you milady," asked William, at something of a loss. "Why are you dressed like a carnival person."

"I'm doing the bit," said Mai. "Shh."

William fell silent.

"This is a domain of the Sorcerer's Guild," said Mai. "But beware that it is formed from the darkness of Blackfear.

"When one slays undead, the life energies of the undead go into the air. Usually, they flow loose and settle somewhere else.

"Yet because the undead are so common, it tends to flow into neighboring lands. Crops are lost. This place is a realm of experimentation. It draws that energy here and filters it back into Blackfear.

"You may gain much here. Or lose much. Queen Jazra made your invitation to this place. She asked me to give you a warm welcome.

"Oh, and if you walk back without a tour, she will take it as a personal insult. She doesn't like people thinking of her as part of the scenery.

"The choice is yours."

"What is the meaning of this gift?" said William.

"What meaning you gain by it is yours alone," said Mai as the lights died and the cards returned to her hands. "Follow me."

"You rehearsed that line, didn't you?" asked William.

"Of course, I rehearsed it," said May with a smile. "I am an entertainer."

And they did follow. But before they did, Jehair put a hand on his shoulder. "Listen to me now. Take nothing. Eat nothing, speak to no one in this place.

"Those who enter this place often return changed and warped. It is connected to the realm of the Caliph, or I'm a fool. Learn by observation, but this is no time to enjoy yourself. View it as academic, just as those men do."

William nodded and looked again at the women. Many were giving him amorous glances, too many at that. Then he looked away and decided to simply view the people here as props. Looking to his friends, he decided this was his to deal with.

"Jehair, Felix, Massacre, remain behind and do not enter," said William. "If I am not back, plan a rescue or other matters."

"Is this wise?" asked Jehair.

"Queen Jazra is a god, and I have wounded many of her subjects," said William. "She might well be planning to kill me here.

"I am bound by honor to appease her. If this may do so, I must."

"Then follow me," said Mai.

William followed and walked and halted as he saw a familiar blue-skinned girl. She had been at Ascorn and in the company of Cirithil, and now she was here. He almost went up to her, but then she was gone. As he did, he saw places were vast numbers of delicious food. There were piles and piles on it, but it was poisoned. Jehair knew enough to know that, and William agreed. It was taken from the stolen energies of the undead. One that ought to have gone to the people and land.

It was theft and poison.

Dancing girls moved before him, swaying hips sensually, and he found himself drawn to them. Among them, he thought he saw a glimpse of the blue girl from before, walking through them with gaze on him. Then he saw their eyes, empty, as though they were without spirit. These women were acting as they had been trained, like dogs. What horrible wrong had been done to them to make them like this?

Would that there was something he could do for them? Could he take them away from this place? No, that would just drag them from relative safety to terrible danger. Who was this Queen Jazra? Did she employ these women, or were they, slaves? Was she even involved in this?

The Babarassians had been his enemy.

Walking ever further onward, William saw a girl of twelve years old dressed as a prostitute. Bile rose in his throat, and he narrowly kept from throwing up. Technically he was only a few years older than her, but...

That was not the point.

"Am I not good enough for you?" asked the girl in a perfect rendition of offense. But her eyes were empty like machines.

"Get out of this place," said William. "Take everyone you know and run. Go anywhere else."

And he moved on, praying that these people would get away. As he walked, he saw men making notes. Yet he saw no one else enjoying the festivities. "Where is everything?

"How can this place continue to operate without patrons?"

"This place," said Mai. They were withered, but looking hard, they seemed fake. "Has many people. They are all around us. You are simply one of the vessels by which they are experiencing it.

"Some come to this place on other journeys and never know they walk it. Others seek it out and revel in the depravities. The worst of them are consumed. It's a lot of fun to watch, not so much to be part of." She turned to eye him with a smile. "If you lose.

"The Carnival of Souls is not always a carnival. Sometimes it can be a world.

"Think of it as a universe of... wish-fulfillment."

"What do you think of my solution?" asked William.

"Eh, treating the whole thing as hostile territory is a good survival technique," said Mai.

"Other than not going in at all. But low risk means low reward.

"If you don't gamble, you never win big. Like in that tent, see those people."

William did look and saw no one. Just empty machines were running with many spinning wheels and rolling dice. Slowly he began to discern figures; however, ghosts focused totally on the board. "Who are they?"

"They're the losers in this tent," said Mai. "They rolled the dice and kept rolling. They gambled their memories, their hearts, and a lot of other things. Every time they lost, they appreciated what they used to have a little less.

"Now they're ghosts, gambling the dice because they've always done that. They don't even know why they're doing it. But it makes for a nice way to set the stakes."

"Can they not be freed?" asked William, wondering at this side to Mai. But, then again, her Father had become the God of Madness.

"They don't even know what that is," said May, winking at him. "You'll see in there a couple of fallen priests. Some would be saints. And a lot of businessmen came here from off-world.

"See, they come to Erian to indulge in forbidden pleasures. They do so without fear of consequences where they're from. We draw them here, and they find out that consequences don't need to be feared to happen."

William tried to discern her race. She was not Harlenorian, but she wasn't Calishan or any other he'd seen. Her skin was fair, her hips wide, her waist slim, and the hair that fell before she had an unnatural spike and luster.

"Do you know some of them?" asked William.

May laughed and drew her deck. "I just like playing games. My parents came into this place now and then when someone gets carried away."

"...Have they no means of salvation," said William. "No advocate?"

"They sold those for slaves long ago," said Mai. "Anyway, let's forget these losers. They don't gamble anything anymore."

"Does this connect to the experimental crossings in Antion?" asked William.

"Yeah," said Mai, who seemed to be adapting a persona. "The Sorcerer's Guild created this realm on behalf of Neral Dinis. It was a way to prevent starvation for the humans here.

"They use it to experiment on the people who come down here. If you look, there's a tent where people drink themselves into nothing."

William saw another empty tent. But as he gazed in longer, he saw spirits gnawing at their limbs with hunger. Several beautiful girls were standing by with empty eyes. They were as vacant as the ghosts ate themselves. When they devoured a limb, they'd go to another, and it would regrow. Their eyes were wild, in agony and looked famished with hunger. Yet the only thing real to them was their food.

Themselves.

"...What happens to the people who don't become this?" asked William.

Mai leaped into the air, backflipping up to land on some boxes. Then, drawing a baton from her bosom with one long-taloned hand, she pointed it toward a distant tent. As she did, the tent drew near them, then pointed with one gloved hand. William followed it, seeing an immensely fat man grabbing several women.

They were tied and pulled into a tent, screaming. But their eyes were empty, and then a young, boring-looking individual looked in with a sword. For a moment, William thought he was boring as he walked into the tent. His eyes widened in horror, but they were empty.

William realized that this was not illegal.

The man who was going to rape that woman was not doing wrong according to what rules there were. The individual with the sword was neither wrong, no matter what he did. This place was, so far as William could tell, amoral.

What was odd was that the streets around them were streets. The carnival was gone, and now they stood in a prosperous villa. And the individual he saw was by the door of a tavern. His sword was out, and there was a man's scream.

Shortly after that, the individual returned with the girl clinging to his arm.

"She's a succubus," guessed William.

"Not necessarily," said Mai. "She could be the one who orchestrated the event. Perhaps she placed a spell on the man. Or she could simply be little more than a machine of flesh.

"Perhaps she was afraid because her master wanted her to be afraid. And after he was killed, she became what her new master wanted.

"Such is the fate of those who indulge in the Carnival of Souls too much. If you don't pace yourself. You get so consumed by yourself that someone devours you instead as livestock."

Mai was having the time of her life with this act. She was really enjoying playing the part of the demonic mystic. Or was this part the real her?

"And what of Babarassia?" asked William. He was rapidly beginning to wonder if anyone in Antion was not insane.

"A deviant branch," said Mai. "Queen Jazra really straightened them out.

"Instead of luring others to be destroyed by what they want, they destroy others to take what they want. She instilled a fixation on foreigners who must be brought in for various purposes as new blood.

"Foreigners are imported and instill their nature on the land. These days Caliph women from the demoration and trains them from the ground up. All to be perfectly obedient soulmates or prostitutes or whatever."

"I think the Babarassian way is better," said William. If this was so, Jazra had probably saved their souls. "It is at least more honorable."

Mai laughed as she leaped down. "I kind of think the villages they raid might think differently. But, perhaps we should continue."

Once again, they walked the Carnival of Souls. William saw many strange and terrible things as he walked. But Mai walked with a spring in her step as if it was nothing. Her family all seemed to be off somehow.

Now it was completely empty.

But they came to a last, huge tent, and within it, they opened the door. Entering it, William found many observers scratching notes on a back stand. Yet he finally found other people, and they were many in number. Some William had never heard of every shape and size around them and of every race.

They were watching.

But their eyes were empty and transfixed with blank expressions on the stage.

William wondered what they saw, for the stage seemed to be empty. Then, looking at the figure, he paused. "What are they looking at?"

"Their dreams," said Mai.

"What do you see?" asked William.

Mai thought about it. Then clenching her baton to her chest, she closed her eyes and smiled. "I see myself on a huge luxury ship surrounded by friends and family.

"And I'd be able to get manicures and have them do my hair for me. I've always wanted to do that. Janice told me they have those in the Demoration."

"So, you dream of being here?" asked William.

"No," said Mai. "Only an idiot asks for that kind of service in a place like this."

"Don't you think you should have an attainable goal?" asked William.

"Can we please focus on you?" asked Mai, violet eyes looking upset. "What do you see?"

"Nothing," said William. "Oughtn't I have seen something? My desires are not yours."

Mai looked over to the empty stage. "Maybe you don't want to see anything."

"No," said William. "I've come over here by personal invitation of a God.

"All I've seen so far is blanket temptation. I believe Queen Jazra is owed a better reception than this." Murmurs of approval.

"Perhaps some sort of combat by champion?" asked Mai.

"Would that be appropriate?" asked William.

"No," said Mai. "The carnival theme demands presentation.

"You see what you take with you.

"I have something for you."

And raising a hand, he put it upwards toward the stage. A curtain of fire shot before it, and then William stood in a different form of carnival. One with an earthen floor of different hues and many real people there. Over on the stage was a beautiful, innocent-looking elven woman with long green hair. She had a star tattoo on her brow, and her face was less humanoid, more elfen with strange angles.

She was slimmer than Jehair and clad only in a loincloth, with her breasts covered by long blonde braids. Her hands were chained, and she was blushing as though in pleasure. Two bloody stumps were coming from her back. William felt disgusted at the sight, even as she enjoyed the pain.

"Please..." she moaned, and her eyes had a soul in them. Yet it was totally broken. "My wings were shredded, sir. Hear my tale of woe. It is so horrible, dwelling in this place as a slave to the ground."

"What is this monstrous exhibit?" asked William, moving forward and grasping his sword. Though whether to cut her chains or kill her, he genuinely did not know.

She moaned and moaned, explaining her story in a thousand different ways. How she was a victim of circumstance, and the crowd drank it in. Some walked away.

"Where are you going?" asked Mai in confusion. "This is perfectly legal? This woman enjoys her role on display; the audience also enjoys it."

"I was such a fool," said the woman, almost in a religious trance. "I went too far afield and was enslaved. So now I am a prisoner." And he felt like he was looking not at one woman but a thousand of them. As if this girl was nothing but a cipher for unending people in chains.

"This is loathsome," said William, looking to the crowd. "This is unworthy of nobility!"

But they could not hear him, though some faded away. And the horrible thing continued.

"But it is legal," said Mai, blinking. "These men have every legal right to soak in her agony as they see fit. And she receives comfort from their emotions. Do you think she exists here because she was a good person?

"Can it be wrong if all have a good time?"

"She has no choice," said William.

"No slaves have a choice," said Mai. "This is a legal use for a slave. Or they are not a slave. And is their master not their god?"

William tried to interpret it on philosophical grounds.

The idea that this one person had to endure her for moral purposes came to him. Yet that was absurd. Yet, ideologically, he realized Impus had a point. This was legal, she was enjoying it, and he was a sort of guest. He had seen and looked the other way to other horrors in the past that were worth it.

This might be a performance.

What if it was? His actions here still had meaning. He saw here an abomination, a creature warped and distorted into a mockery. It had to be stopped, and the greater meaning had no purpose. And if indeed she was genuinely happy here...

Such happiness was wrong.

He drew his sword and moved forward toward the chains. Bringing it around with rage, he hewed the chains. The first blow chipped them but was repulsed by tradition. The second cracked a link with the knowledge of many horrors. The third broke it entirely with a final strike. The chain shattered, and he moved to the next and struck it again.

Three times his sword fell again, and it broke again. But the last two chains resisted him, fighting back with a feral hatred. Finally, they yanked on the woman, and she seemed to change shape. As if they were trying to rip her apart.

Contempt for the slavers, honorless and in defiance of laws, went through him. And with a final blow, he shattered the chain. Now for the last, the woman thrashed, eyes rolling back in her head as curses came from her mouth. She seemed not completely consumed by sheer hatred, for him, for the chains. Everything. Falling back on the stage, he grabbed the chain and hewed it.

Yet this time, the chain resisted, and the woman was on him, howling as she went at him with long nails. William struck one last time, shoving her back, and the chains shattered. Again, the woman fell back, howling. "You wrecked my exhibit!

"You wrecked my exhibit! I had energy and power; I was worshipped!"

This woman deserved better than what she had been turned into. William laid hands on her, feeling her rage. The torment she endured had been turned against the one who did it. So soon, she became enslaved to her own torment. He did not know who she was or where she came from.

This was unworthy of her.

"In the name of Elranor, be cured!" said William.

His healing power surged into the now maddened woman, stilling her. Screaming skyward, her injuries long ignored appeared and vanished. Then, a moment later, the stumps were healed, and wings burst forth. For a moment, she was veiled in light.

Cheers came from the crowd.

William felt only disgust. These specters all around him were slaves, doomed to be an audience in their own lives. They'd seen this and done nothing.

The woman was gone.

Suddenly William found himself walking in the light and saw before him a man. He was all gray, with a short beard and white robes. Their eyes met, and William wondered if these had been his actions. Or the actions of the man channeled through him. Then, looking back, he realized he had not been alone in this or anything.

His actions here had been but the focus. It was not by his choice but the choices of innumerable others. He might have thought he had taken action himself but was taking it with others.

The woman was slavery.

They had killed her.

Looking at his hands, William saw blood which his power of healing had been used. It hadn't been her fault; she'd been acting according to her nature that she should exist in a form that was... well... evil.

For she could do no good.

Only be the host to good things.

That horrible act, which had possessed her, had been the ultimate example. A creature chained and reveling in its victimhood. Even as it unmanned those who gazed and took pleasure in it. Corrupted and corrupted everyone around here using the chains that others had forged.

Those chains were breaking even now, even as they were built. And one day, all those chains would be broken. What would happen to her then?

What would happen to William?

For he saw on himself chains now and on everyone else of a different kind. He was a noble, a man of illustrious birth, bred for war. What would happen to him if peace was established? What purpose in existence did he have, save to kill?

If all men became healers as he did, he would cease to be anything special.

What was the use of a Paladin in a world without evil? What was the use of any heroism or virtue in a perfect world? To a man who lived to fight for the right, wouldn't heaven be chains of a different kind? To lose all the power they'd had in life, everything that made them what they were.

If William lost his status as nobility, he was nothing.

It was a foundation for who he was. And if there were no nobles in the future, what then? It had already begun. Had he killed the monarchy itself by breaking those chains? Had he shattered all in a moment of self-righteous anger?

No.

William was who he was.

Were he born a commoner, would he endure all as he had now in a different way? Even if all the cosmos were redeemed, there would be new creations. New frontiers conjured from the minds of the gods. And on that battleground, new races and forms of good would come forth and, with them, new evils.

"There will always be Paladins fighting against the wicked," said William. "And there always will be." And he reached forward toward the man. And at his feet was now the woman.

Just as she lay at the feet of many, and by her own will, she rose as many others reached out.

Their hands were touching. Yet invisible barriers stretched between them, a screen of power. As though they were the words of some conceived book, indulged by a tolerant audience. Yet the story was made not by pen but by other worlds.

When it faded, the carnival was gone. William stood on that same road as if he'd never left. He felt tired but satisfied that he had done his duty. "What happened?"

"You stopped only for a moment," said Jehair.

And Isriath appeared before him with a ringing of bells.

"Why this, Mai?" asked William.

"I wanted to see how you would react," said Mai. "You worked within the bounds of the law to achieve good. Your reaction to the evil that cannot be punished is to store up retribution. Make preparations to destroy them at a more convenient hour.

"I wanted to see how you would react if you faced an evil deed that you could not wait for. But which was perfectly legal."

"What do you think of my solution?" asked William, smiling faintly.

"I liked it," said Mai.

"Have you tested anyone else this way?" asked William.

Mai paused. "Now that you mention it, Tanith saw the same exhibit."

"How did she react?" asked William.

"She killed the audience and the woman and left in disgust," said Jehair. "She felt they were all beyond redemption. The audience for being mastered by someone completely helpless. And the woman for enjoying being a slave.

"So, what are you bound by, William Gabriel? And could you give them up if you need to?"

"Was that even real?" asked William.

"Likely, the answer is yes and no," said Felix.

"So, uh, are you actually going to use the gaming table?" asked Mai. "Because we have a limited time, and I brought cards."

"No," said William.

"Oh well," said Mai. "We'll call your payment the undead you'll have to kill on your way out as well as in."

"What undead?" asked William.

Mai shuffled the cards in her deck before drawing five in a moment and raising them before her face. "The cards tell me that Sylvar is furious at your earlier defiance.

"You're going to be heavily attacked on the road as soon as you leave this Carnival." She swayed her hip, and the cards flew from her hand to spin around her in a whirlwind. "I could call them off if you'd like.

"All you need to do is ask."

"I think I'll take my chances, milady," said William.

"You might not want to be so quick to refuse," said Mai. "A working relationship with the Sorcerer's Guild can help House Gabriel."

"Perhaps," said William. "But I will accept no favors from one who meets with me by proxy."

"Fine by me," said Mai. "But don't say I didn't warn you. I had a really good time tonight." And she leaned in to kiss his cheek. "Hope you live.

"Oh, and uh... when you learn about the traitor, remember I could have told who they were."

Traitor? So, Jehair, then. Best not to say much now; he had to learn the nature of her treachery without alerting her.

Then spinning around, her cloak wrapped around her form and vanished. And so they continued their journey with better spirits than ever. And birds began to sing and brought to mind the symbolism of what William saw.

And then the undead were upon them.