Arthur woke to a steadily brightening room. He rubbed his eyes, stretched — groaned — and sat up. He hurt everywhere, and could barely get his limbs to move. Valet clapped his hands, and the room returned to its normal level of brightness. Lexi was asleep at the door. Vassalus glanced down at her and shook his head — then he stifled a yawn. Morgan was asleep — flat on her back, with her feet crossed, and her hands folded together over her chest, as if she were a mummy. Arthur smiled. She looked … almost angelic … when she was sleeping.

“Is it morning?” Arthur asked Valet quietly.

Valet nodded.

“Doesn’t feel like I was out that long.”

“I would guess you slept eight, maybe ten hours,” said Vassalus.

Valet held up nine fingers.

Arthur stood and immediately grabbed his back. That was definitely the result of an entire day of fighting for his life and getting knocked against a wall, capped off by sleeping on a couch. After stretching, he knelt beside Morgan.

“Morgan,” he whispered. “It’s time to wake up.”

Her eyes peeled open and met his. She stared at him — then blinked rapidly a few times — then, like a snake striking, she slapped him.

He fell onto his backside. “Ow! What’d you do that for?!”

She sat up and pointed at him. “Don’t watch me while I’m sleeping, perv!”

“I wasn’t watching you — I was waking you.”

“You couldn’t do that from across the room?”

“I was trying to do it nicely. Geez. Some morning person you are.”

“It can’t be morning.” She pulled out her iPhone and groaned. “Ugh, it’s 6:11 AM … way too early to be up.”

Arthur shrugged. “If I sleep on this couch any longer, I'm not sure I'll be able to move. Besides, I'm starving.”

“Fine.”

They took turns with the bathroom, and sat down at the table in the Dining Hall. Waiter brought them a classic breakfast: bacon, eggs, pancakes, syrup, butter, and orange juice. Arthur wondered where the ingredients came from: Was this real bacon and eggs? After the first bite, he decided it didn't matter. The food was amazing. Arthur thought the butter was the ultimate butter on which all other butter was based. He cleaned his plate, and the servitors brought out bowls of fruit.

Morgan moaned and held her stomach. “We're going to get fat living here.”

“You could stand to gain a few pounds, dear,” Lexi tut-tutted with a shake of her head.

Morgan scowled for a few moments … inhaled deeply … breathed out … and then relaxed.

“Sorry,” Arthur mouthed at her silently while Lexi wasn’t looking.

Morgan shrugged. “So we have a house full of shadows to clear out and a big bad warlock … where do we start?”

“Not with the warlock,” Arthur answered. “Let’s save him for last.”

“Are you certain that is wise, Master Paladin?” Vassalus asked.

“Are you questioning his wisdom again?” Lexi demanded, baring the tips of her fangs. “I think you need to —”

“I just know I’m not quite ready to face him,” Arthur said quickly, interrupting them before they could get into an argument. “We really don’t know anything about this place — and there are a lot of doors in that hallway. There may be something that can help us fight him.”

“So, what’ll it be, then?” Morgan said.

“The Grand Hallway,” Arthur responded. “We can’t explore the Manse fully until we clear the hall. Otherwise, every time we leave a room, we’ll have fight our way across it.”

“Clearing the hall’s not going to be easy,” Morgan said. “We need a plan.”

“Yes indeed,” said Vassalus, “a stratagem would be most appropriate. Any ideas, my dear?”

Morgan cradled her steaming cup of tea. “We have two entrances into the Grand Hallway to work with … one leading out from this room, and one out from the Smoking Lounge. But the two entrances are only about twenty feet apart and … and … and we really don’t have much to work with, do we?”

Arthur shook his head. “All the shades we shot up out there last night will be back, since we didn’t take out any of the dark-hearts they came from.”

“We need to take out those stones,” Lexi said. “Then all we’ll have to deal with is the wraiths. Of course, the wraiths may still kill us on their own …”

“We really could use some more help,” Arthur lamented.

Almost immediately, Waiter and Cook stepped into the dining room, taking practice swings with the heavy iron skillets they were carrying.

“Oh no, you guys are not helping,” Arthur said.

Offended, Waiter lifted his head up and stamped a foot down dramatically. Cook simply swung the skillet around a few more times.

“It is their house, too, Master Paladin,” said Vassalus. “I think they deserve a chance to save it.”

“I agree,” Lexi added. “If they want to help, let them.”

Arthur sighed. Obviously, he could use the help, but an image of Derek falling to the shades flashed in his mind — he didn’t want anyone getting hurt on his account. Valet and Arms fighting was one thing, they'd clearly had military training; but these two servitors were not fighters.

“You did say we could use more help,” said Morgan. “You got what you asked for.”

“Okay, fine.” He pointed at Waiter and Cook. “Don’t try to be heroes. You’re going to support the others. No charging straight into battle. Got it?”

They both nodded.

Morgan fiddled with her broken iPhone. “Now we just need a plan.”

Arthur got up and paced the room. After his fourth circuit, Morgan shot him a dirty look, but he ignored her and kept pacing — it helped him think. He considered what they had to work with: two entrances, the numen and the servitors, his guns, Morgan’s shield. They needed to take out the dark-hearts, and to do that, they needed a way to get to them without getting killed, because he felt certain they were at the other end of the hall.

He paused by the door that led from the Dining Room to the Grand Hallway, opened the door, and took a quick peek before shutting it again. Perfect — no shades were lingering right outside. They had retreated, once again, to the far end of the hallway. The dark-hearts had to be somewhere down there.

He placed his palms on the table and leaned forward. “I’ve got a plan. It’s risky … but I’m certain it’ll work. Trust me.”

“I don’t know,” Morgan mumbled, “you are a moron.”

Arthur smiled at her. “You are so going to hate this plan.”

“Oh, great — yay for me!”

“Vassalus, you and the servitors wait here.” He pointed at Morgan and Lexi. “You two are coming with me. Morgan and I will go out through the Smoking Lounge doors. Once we're ready, I'll send Lexi back. She will be the signal for you to start your attack.”

Valet handed Arthur his steel helmet and adjusted the chin strap for him. Morgan snorted and restrained a giggle. Arthur ignored her and led the way into the Smoking Lounge and up to the door leading into the Grand Hallway.

Morgan narrowed her eyes at him. “This plan had better not be stupid.”

“It’s not — I promise.”

“And yet I’m still going to hate it …”

“I noticed before that your force field curves around you.”

She nodded. “Yeah … it makes a 180-degree arc …”

“You’re going to put up your force field and walk straight down the hallway, looking for dark-hearts.”

“And where are you going to be?”

“Right behind you. You’re going to be my shield and my spotter.”

Morgan chewed at her lip, thinking. “I don’t see why you thought I’d hate this plan.”

“Right behind you, Morgan. Butt cheek to butt cheek.”

“No.”

“I need you to shield me. You’re going to be my fullback.”

She stared at him with deathly silence.

“That’s the player who —”

“I know how football works,” she said. “It’s my favorite sport.”

“Mine, too! I’m a big fan of the —”

She shook her head. “Don’t tell me who your favorite team is.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m willing to bet your favorite team is a rival to mine, and if so, I’ll have to hate you — on principle.”

“Er … right. So … while you push forward, you’ll be looking for dark-hearts, and I’ll be shooting all the wraiths and shades we pass to keep them off us. As soon as you find a dark-heart, you tell me where it is, and I’ll pop around and shoot it.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“I think you can keep a few feet of space between us.”

“Won’t work.”

“Okay, one foot then.”

Arthur shook his head.

“PDA rule!” Morgan demanded. “Six full inches!”

Arthur grinned. “I’m sure we won’t be touching the whole time, Morgan. I can’t stay that in synch with you. But it will only work if I stick as close to you as possible. I can’t be worrying about the shades until you’ve stepped all the way past them. And I can’t be worrying about you freaking out if we accidentally bump into one another.”

Malice flickered in Morgan’s stormy eyes. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Actually, I kinda do.”

“Thought I was your only friend …”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t hate you, moron.”

Arthur shook his head. “Lexi, go tell the others to attack. As soon as the shades charge up to face all of you, back down the hall towards the Great Room as far as you can, and cry out to let me know so we can begin our attack. I just need you to draw them down the hallway. Be careful, though. If you get overwhelmed, retreat back into the Great Room, okay?”

“What about you two?” Lexi asked.

“If things get too bad, we’ll duck into one of the rooms we haven’t explored yet. So far the rooms off the hallway haven’t had anything worse than a dozen shades.”

Lexi padded off.

Arthur drew his rayguns, and Morgan activated her shield.

“I’m sorry, Morgan.”

She glared at him for several moments, then sighed dramatically and said, “It’s not the worst plan ever. I just … I just don’t …”

“You don’t like touching — I get it.”

“No, moron,” she snapped. “You don’t get it at all.”

“What am I not —”

Lexi roared, and Vassalus howled.

Arthur yanked the door open. The hallway was teeming with shades. About a quarter of them had already passed the door to the Smoking Lounge. Most were already halfway down the hall, including three of the eight wraiths. The numina and servitors would be overwhelmed quickly; Lexi had waited too long to give the signal. But that would make his and Morgan’s job easier; they just needed to break through the shades so they could reach the other end of the hallway, where he was certain they would find some, if not all, of the dark-hearts.

“We’ve got to hurry,” Arthur said.

Morgan activated her shield, and Arthur stepped in behind her. As soon as his back touched hers, he felt a shudder go through her. She started to say something, but choked it back.

“Let’s go,” he urged.

As soon as Morgan entered the hallway, shades slammed into the force field and recoiled; their impact knocked Morgan into Arthur. She groaned, shivered as if a dozen spiders had fallen on her, set her feet, and stomped forward. Whatever it was the shades were made of, it wasn’t heavy; they weighed a lot less than Morgan, so she was able to stand up against them — which was good, because they kept coming at her.

Arthur immediately began firing the other direction, aiming at the shades heading toward the numina and the servitors. He kept telling himself that if all he meant to do was hurt shades, he didn’t have to worry about hurting any of his friends. Firing both rayguns, he quickly dispatched eight shades. One of his stray shots hit Valet straight on — Arthur cringed — but Valet shook his head as if momentarily confused, then carried on. Whew! The servitors engaged the shades in front of them and held their ground; Lexi and Vassalus did more than just hold their ground. They ripped through the shades … until they came face-to-face with the wraiths.

Arthur fired at the wraiths, but shades kept getting in the way, and as Morgan kept walking forward, there were more and more shades trying to come around the shield, forcing Arthur to defend himself. Luckily, he only had to defend himself on one side; Morgan kept them flush against the left wall. When he’d come up with the plan , he hadn’t even thought of that. Only having to defend a single side made things much easier. This was why he needed Morgan.

“How many of these blasted things are there?!” Arthur said.

“I’m guessing sixty,” Morgan said. “Uh oh. Trouble, Arthur. Two wraiths coming straight at us — fast.”

“Go through them if you can.”

Morgan met the wraiths head-on — ZZZZT-ZAP! — sparks flew — Morgan staggered back into Arthur. The impact of the wraiths on the force field sounded like a giant moth hitting a bug zapper — a stuck moth, because the wraiths weren’t backing down. They kept trying to push through the force field.

For once, Morgan didn’t care that they’d accidentally touched.

The wraiths backed up a step, then propelled themselves against Morgan’s shield again.

ZZZZT-ZAP!

“Arthur, I’m not sure how much longer I can hold this.” She took a step back; the shield flickered. “I think they’re shorting out the force field.”

A group of shades spun and charged toward Arthur. He fired into them, pulling the triggers as rapidly as he could. The light from his raygun blasts reflected off a dark, fist-sized gem hovering high up in the rafters of the cathedral-like ceiling, twenty feet overhead. Arthur fired up, and with his third shot, he hit it. Two of the shades near him vanished. Firing a half-dozen more shots, he cleared the area near him.

ZZZT-ZAP!

Morgan was blasted back into him, and the impact almost knocked him down. Her force field flickered twice and dimmed.

“Arthur! Stop piddling about and do something! The other wraiths are coming toward us.”

Arthur almost laughed, despite the danger they were in. He knew exactly what to do … and Morgan was going to hate it.

“Drop your shield when they step back again — just for a second.”

The wraiths stepped back; Morgan dropped her shield. Arthur stepped up to Morgan, put his arms across her shoulders, and fired at the wraiths. He hit each wraith in the face, and they dropped to the ground.

Morgan shrugged Arthur off and reactivated her shield.

“I do not like your plans, perv.”

“I prefer moron.”

“Yeah, well … do that again, and it won't matter which you prefer. Because I — will — kill — you!”

She muttered a curse and surged forward, stepping between the fallen wraiths. They hadn’t disappeared, and despite being shot in the face, they were still alive, writhing on the floor. Arthur shot them as he walked between them. Two shots in the chest to each, and then they faded away.

A different wraith charged out from amidst the shades behind them; somehow, Arthur hadn’t seen it slip through. It leapt toward him. He ducked under the attack and fired. His shots missed and flew into the mass of shades; the wraith passed harmlessly overhead and struck the wall. Arthur spun as it fell, but he was too slow. The wraith reared up and struck him on the head with one clawed hand and on the shoulder with the other. The blows knocked him flat, and his head spun, but the steel helmet had saved him. He was alive and conscious. His shoulder armor was torn and the skin underneath felt badly sunburned, but the claws hadn't reached him. Morgan could mock his armor all she wanted from now on; he didn’t care.

The wraith pounced. Arthur twisted and fired, hitting it in the stomach. The wraith landed on him, but he kicked free of it — to find four shades looming over him.

Morgan spun around, exposing her back, and barreled into them. Arthur shot a shade closing in on her and jumped back up. She spun back around to face the end of the hallway again, and Arthur got behind her. The wraith he’d shot in the stomach began to stir, so he shot it several more times, until it disappeared, then he fired at all the shades closing in on them from behind and to the side. They had nearly reached the far end of the hallway.

“Morgan, get in the corner — it’s not much farther.”

“Working on it.”

As they continued to advance, Arthur shot all the shades he could. He clipped another wraith — one that was coming from the side — in the shoulder, but this one and its companion were smarter than the others. They wove their way toward them, using the shades as blockers.

“Morgan, wraiths coming from your right. Put your back to the wall — now!”

Together they spun around. The two wraiths hit her shield.

ZZZT-ZAP!

The impact knocked Morgan back into Arthur, and jammed him into the wall.

“Jerk!” Morgan yelled as she took a half step forward. He wasn’t certain if that was directed toward him or the wraith.

“Morgan, I’m going to have to hug you again.”

“I hate you.”

“As long as you don’t kill me.”

“That comes later.”

The wraiths backed up and then lunged, but Morgan surprised them by surging forward and bashing them with her shield. That dazed and surprised them good, so when Morgan dropped her shield a moment later, Arthur — reaching his arms around her (she squirmed) — blasted them several times each, killing them.

This time, he hopped back immediately — before Morgan could retaliate.

They slid along the wall until they were finally backed into the corner. He couldn’t see the servitors and numina at the other end of the hallway, but he could hear them still fighting. He was pretty sure some of the shades he’d fought had already returned. And a big mass of them and another wraith were charging toward him and Morgan.

“You can close in tighter,” Arthur said.

“You wish — heads up! Two dark-hearts high up in the opposite corner.” She craned her head back. “And two above us. Told you there were sixty in here.”

“I was right! They were congregating down here because of the stones!”

Morgan nodded toward the door at the end of the hallway labeled INNER SANCTUM. “Or they were trying to stay close to whatever’s in there …”

Arthur’s eyes fell upon the glowing triskelion and the matching sigil carved into the wooden door above it. Suddenly, a chill ran down Arthur’s back. His heart raced, and the world closed in on him — shadows upon shadows. A voice whispered into his mind — a voice that was cold … reptilian … ancient … mocking.

It was the warlock.

“Arthur Primus, come to claim your mantle at last … untrained … afraid … trapped in a manse of shadows … nothing but a boy … abandoned by your father … unwelcome in your own home … unloved …”

Arthur tried to focus, but he couldn’t get it out of his head.

“Come to me,” the warlock hissed. “Come to me, and I will tell you everything you want to know … how your cousins died … how your mother Amelia died … I can tell you who killed them … I can tell you why … and I can tell you all about your mysterious father … why he hid you away … and why he did all the terrible things he did. I will tell you all this and more … and then … then you will make your choice.”

Arthur thought back, “Let me guess. Join you or die.”

“No, Arthur … no. If you do not join me, your little girlfriend will die.”

“Arthur!” Morgan yelled. “Get with it or we’re going to get killed!”

“The warlock in my mind,” Arthur said, panting. “He said …”

Morgan turned toward him. He looked into her stormy eyes, which were a little paler than normal. A trembling frown marred her perfect lips and her heart-shaped face. “I don’t care what he said. Kick him out and get to shooting! I need help — now!”

The warlock’s voice returned, but it was fainter now. “Oh, do come inside. Bring your anger. Bring the girl. You know you must face me. If you’re not ready now, you never will be, orphan, because —”

“GET OUT OF MY HEAD!” Arthur screamed.

But the warlock just laughed.

Morgan, the hallway, the battle, everything around him faded away into mists and darkness. Suddenly, he was back at home in Rockville. The scents of cake and snuffed candles filled the house, but Arthur wasn’t celebrating his fifth birthday in the kitchen with everyone else. He was in the living room, crying in Grandpa Nelson’s arms. He remembered the day perfectly. For weeks, he’d had it in his head that his father was going to come to his birthday party, and when he didn’t show, Arthur finally realized his dad was never coming back for him. Grandpa Nelson had held him until the tears dried up, and then he’d told him ridiculous old stories to make him feel better. Grandpa Nelson could always make the pain fade, even if the scars remained.

Then, Arthur was standing in the graveyard, watching as they lowered Grandpa Nelson’s pale blue coffin into the earth. The day was sunny and clear, and it had seemed to him the wrongest thing in the world. It should be raining at a funeral — it should be as gray and cold as their hearts. From then on, Grandma Nelson was the only family Arthur had left. And even though she did love him — in her own way — not so deep down, she resented him. The day Grandpa Nelson had died was the last day Arthur had felt happy.

Weeks … maybe months later, he no longer remembered: It was nighttime, and he was sleeping in bed. Suddenly, he cried out and sat up. His heart was racing — pounding so hard he thought it might explode. He’d forgotten this completely. But it was the first time he’d had that feeling like there were two hearts beating inside his chest. Grandma Nelson had grumpily rushed him to the emergency room, but by the time they got there, the sensation had stopped. Every test had said he was normal.

From then on, the few friends he'd had at school drifted away. His alienation from the other kids, from everyone, grew deeper. He became more lonely and awkward, and eventually rebellious. Steadily, he became convinced that he was supposed to be somewhere else and doing something else — though he’d had no idea what. He was so frustrated all the time.

Endless days of torturous boredom began to pass through his mind, but the warlock had some nerve if he thought he could make Arthur relive school. Those days were over. The anger and stubbornness and rebellion that had gotten him into so much trouble at school finally served its purpose: Arthur fought back.

Ignoring the series of moments from his past when he felt particularly lonely — rainy weekends cooped up alone in his tiny bedroom or by himself on the playground or alone at lunch — Arthur recalled Morgan telling him that they were friends. He pictured Lexi chasing pool balls around the Smoking Lounge and Vassalus fighting beside him in the training room. He thought of how happy the servitors all seemed to be with him in the Manse now. The warlock forced onto Arthur visions of Derek being lavished with Christmas gifts and attention, but Arthur smiled despite them. He smiled because he finally understood his destiny. He wasn't alone anymore; he would never be alone again.

A surge of joy cut through the warlock's illusion, and the real world came back into view. Arthur was once again standing in the Grand Hallway — and it was empty of shades and wraiths — they were all gone!

Then Arthur’s eyes fell onto what lay in front of him.

“No!” he screamed.

Riddled with cuts and scorch-marks, their silvery blood splattered everywhere, the servitors and Vassalus lay dead. Alongside them, Lexi gasped for breath. Her eyes locked onto Arthur.

He fell to his knees beside her and touched her head. “Lexi …”

“Arthur … why didn't you save us?”

Her eyes faded, and she breathed her last.

No — this couldn't be happening. Morgan! Where was Morgan?

Arthur spun, and there she lay, behind him: her perfect school uniform torn and specked with blood, her arms and legs scratched and burned, blood pooling beneath her, and worst of all, her head twisted at an awkward, unnatural angle. Her eyes were no longer storm-blue but a sullen, dreary gray as they stared lifelessly at the ceiling.