The ringing of the bells rises into the wind. Helen plunges through the fire portal and into something akin to a hard wall, only to find that something to be the wizard's chest! She attempts to put some distance between them but finds her hand to be firmly grasped in that of his. Despite the flame she feels shivers.

The wizard steadies her in his arms against the whipping wind. Helen takes a moment to look around, forcing her eyes to adjust against the bright daylight, and sees the tiny roofs of a city below and the huge bells of the castle beside her, larger than anything she could have ever imagined by only ever hearing their ringing.

"What is this?" she gasps, stretching against the wizard to get a better look at everything. "Portal magic, is that what you called it?" She says to Ezra.

"Let's hurry," The wizard whispers to her. "They're coming."

Helen turns to him and before she can ask another question he drags her away from the steep edge of the tower and towards the spiraling staircase.

At that moment she notices the sword at the wizard’s hip, and then the heavy gaze of a person, or rather a shadow merely four steps down. They pause at the top of the staircase under the bell and the wind and the staring dark eyes of the shadow.

The wizard unsheathes his sword, shaking slightly as he points it at the shadow soldier who pauses with glazed eyes, as if not truly understanding the situation it has walked in on.

Ezra whistles between Helen's clenched hand. “It's a bit stuffy in here,” he complains. “What’s happening?”

The shadow soldier slowly unsheathes his own sword teeming with wispy black smoke, completely ignoring the cramped space around it. The wizard lets out a curse and parries its first blow, letting go of Helen's hand as he does so.

"Go back," he shouts at her as the shadow strikes once more, the clashing of iron on iron echoes around the rock walls and steps.

Helen flees back up the first step towards the edge of the tower. The wind takes a hold of her hair and and her clothes, pushing and pulling and playing as it pleases. The clashing of swords hardly reaches her through its violence.

"What is this place?" She whispers to herself.

"We're not that far from your prison." Ezra answers. "Just above it, actually."

She stares at her right hand. "What do you mean?"

"That wizard-" Ezra begins but the touch of a hand on her shoulder interrupts him. Helen turns to find the wizard behind her, a scratch on his cheek spills a tiny stream of blood, flushing both his cheeks an unusual red. The wind reaches for his voice but he speaks quickly.

"We need to leave, can you control that spirit in your hand?"

"Control?"

He makes a face. "I guess that's a no. Take my hand."

For the second time that day she reaches for the stranger's hand, being a little more hopeful than she'd like to be. Silver-clad knights reach the top of the staircase. "Hold on tight." He says and then does something so completely ridiculous to Helen it takes her a moment to realize what the sudden rush of air around her is. He jumps from the bell tower and all the way down, dragging her with him.

For a horrible minute Helen's heart and stomach are left to the air as they fall, even when the wizard pulls her closer to him.

"Hold on tight," he says uselessly over Helen's screaming, carefully twisting around towards the fast approaching ground he whispers a spell. The green grass is swallowed by a blue fire, another portal.

Atop the tower the shadow soldier is joined by a group of living knights. A brown haired man leans across the edge of the bell tower, curiously watching the pair pass through the blue flames and reappearing only a short distance away. He suppresses a low laugh and turns to the knight to his right.

"Well, that's a bummer." He jokes.

The knight makes a face as he too leans over the edge of the tower to see the wizard and the possessed princess flee into the tree line. He quickly retreats, as if dizzied by the height. "They're not going to get far like that, commander. Shall we pursue?"

The brown haired man nods, smiling. "It shouldn't take us too long to catch up."

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Amidst the trees the princess and the wizard flee in whichever direction will take them.

"What was that?" Helen shouts.

"The shadow, you mean?"

The uneven ground of the woods cuts off their conversation. They maintain their pace until the trees open up into a glade where Helen finally collapses into a heap of sore muscles to come.

The wizard kneels down beside her. "Come on," he says. "We're almost there."

Helen takes another moment to catch her breath. "Yes," she says slowly. "I meant the shadow. What was that?"

"They are your father's little servants, to be curt about it. Not very strong..." He self-consciously presses a finger to the wound on his cheek. "Usually."

"Why didn't you use any spells against it? You're a wizard, right?"

He clears his throat very seriously before straightening up. "An apprentice wizard."

"It's because he can't!" Ezra chuckles.

The wizard's blush seems to deepen. He fumbles to his feet and pulls Helen up with him. "Come on. We can't waste any more time."

He hesitates for a moment before he presses two fingers to Helen's forehead. "One second," he says, and then begins to speak in a language unrecognizable to her. She feels the rush of magic in her skin spread to her temples, eyes, her hair, and across the rest of her face. "That'll do for now."

He leads her further into the glade and pauses in the middle of it. A whisper rises into the summer air, blowing through the green leaves above and steadily rises into a chatter. The wizard presses two fingers to his bottom lip and whispers in the old tongue. The glade begins to fill with a rush of light and darkness, collapsing into its own illusion until the green grass and the tall trees and sunlight are replaced with the dust of an old inn. The wooden door seems to deter any welcome with the copper inlaid carvings all across it.

Undeterred, the wizard pushes the door open and steps into a noisy inn. At Helen's questioning gaze he smiles apologetically. "Stop staring. It's mostly an illusion."

Several men and women sit in small groups across several tables, talking amongst themselves in a mix of the old language of magic and the language of men. The resulting sound carries itself along the wooden walls and the glass bottles and up the stairs of the inn. The wizard leads her up to the second floor and sits down at a table in the furthest corner.

Helen sits down across from him, careful to not stare too much at the strange place.

A man approaches, his leisurely steps give him an air of indifference, but his sharp eyes focus on Helen.

"Apprentice Aiden," the man greets the young wizard. "What brings you here?"

"A warm meal." Aiden answers, leaning his cheek on his hand, feigning an air of boredom on par with the stranger.

"For the young lady as well?" The stranger, who hasn't taken his eyes of Helen once, finally addresses her. "Are you a new apprentice?"

Helen glances at the wizard Aiden across from her, but he avoids her questioning gaze. "No?" She answers eventually.

"Well, I would have remembered your face if you were." He leans onto the table, a sly smile overbears his other, daintier features. "Welcome to the Wizard Inn, if you give me your name I'll give you a free drink."

Helen's hand begins to ache.

"Then it's not really free is it?" Aiden says. "Just bring us the strongest drink you have."

The stranger, Helen realizes, must be a waiter. He nods solemnly and retreats away from their table as if he had never bothered them in the first place.

A short silence falls between them. The inn bustles around them until finally Helen can't take it anymore.

"So your name is Aiden?"

The wizard nods. "And yours is Helen."

The waiter returns with their drink, a small bottle of clear alcohol. "Enjoy," he says, but his eyes linger on Helen. "Hair like yours is quite rare around here."

She takes a look at her hair and finds not her usual blonde locks, but instead a dark shade of red. She looks back up at the waiter who only smiles before turning to leave. She stares at Aiden once they are alone again. "What did you do?"

"It's only a small disguise, it'll wear off soon enough."

"How terrible!" Is all she can manage before Aiden interrupts her.

"I want to make things right with you." He begins. "Do you wish to rid yourself of the demon in your hand?"

Helen glances at her right hand and the mark burnt into her skin. The flesh twitches at her gaze but Ezra's eye does not appear. "What will it take?"

"It depends how much you're willing to give." The wizard smiles. "You could always cut off your hand. That's the quickest way!"

Helen frowns, hoping that he's joking. "And what are my other options?"

"Can't I just sell you on the hand amputation?" He tries again. "No? Okay. Your other option is to head north and to beg the archmage for help."

Aiden sighs at the sight of Helen's hopeful eyes, his guilt begins to cut deeper than it did before. "But that's going to be hard."

Noise rises from the first floor. The inn falls into a hush as the waiter attempts to turn away a group of silver-clad men.

"And why's that?" Helen asks.

"Because the archmage hasn't left his island in years."

A clatter of chairs and shouting erupts inside the inn. Helen glances towards the gathering crowd and turns a worrying look at Aiden.

"Don't worry," he says, grabbing a hold of the bottle of clear alcohol. "If they're not wizards they can't see the people inside the illusion."

He also casts a look at the crowd and immediately seems to regret doing so at the sight of a certain knight, staring directly at them.

"Nevermind," Aiden says, getting up from his seat and dragging Helen from hers. "We should get out of here."

The knight smiles as a wisp of black smoke begins to form in his hand.