“NO!” Arthur screamed.

No, no, no. This just couldn’t be. The shades must’ve killed them while the warlock was in his mind, but then where had the shades gone? Had Lexi managed to kill the last one before it killed her? The gems still hanging in the corners — the gems he had failed to destroy — blinked. Shadows appeared in the middle of the hallway, and turned as one towards him. They walked over the bodies of his friends without even noticing them, as if they were nothing.

This was all his fault.

He’d been so certain they could handle this, and he had failed. He had failed Valet, Arms, Cook, and Waiter. He had failed Vassalus and Lexi. And Morgan … he had promised himself he would get Morgan through this alive, that he would never let her get hurt …

Tears falling down his cheeks, he knelt beside her. The shadows could have him. He didn't care anymore. “Morgan, I’m so sorry.”

From out of nowhere, something hit him in the leg. “Ow!”

“Arthur!” Morgan said. “What’s wrong with you?!”

“Huh?” he said with surprise.

Arthur was on his knees behind Morgan. She was still alive, with her shield up. Shades and wraiths were closing in on them. The battle was still raging, yet here he was stroking his hand across the wood floor. It had all been a trick; the warlock was playing games with his mind. But now the spell was broken, and the demented vision was gone.

She kicked him again. “Snap out of it and get to shooting, moron!”

“Oh … right.”

Gasping to catch his breath, his knees trembling, his stomach knotted, Arthur shakily climbed to his feet. He aimed at the dark-hearts above, fired, and missed badly on what should’ve been a simple shot to make.

A half-dozen shades crashed into Morgan's shield. She screamed his name as it flickered. Finally, Arthur's instincts took over, and he fought for their lives. He fired again, and shattered all three dark-hearts. Their purple shards rained down on him and Morgan. Throughout the Grand Hallway, shades disappeared. The remaining shades on this end of the hallway crowded in on Arthur and Morgan, while a wraith patiently waited behind them.

Aiming at the dark-hearts in the opposite corner, Arthur stood on his tiptoes and took shots over Morgan, who had brought her shield down lower. But as more shades bashed against her shield, she bumped into him, throwing off his aim. He put his back firmly in the corner, and kept Morgan off him with a hand between her shoulder blades. (She snarled.) He reached as high as he could on his tiptoes, and fired again. The shades lunged into Morgan’s shield right as he pulled the trigger, and he missed again. Arthur groaned in frustration.

“Use a continuous beam,” Morgan snapped.

Arthur held down the trigger of one gun and swept it back and forth. The beam wasn't strong enough to break the gems itself, but it banged the fragile stones against the ceiling. The stones struck and shattered.

The remaining shades in the Grand Hallway disappeared.

The wraith that had been waiting patiently howled and charged forward. Morgan lowered her shield, and Arthur fired shots into it. But the hits to the maddened beast’s chest didn’t slow its charge; it was going to crash into them. Morgan would be driven back into Arthur, pinning him against the wall.

Arthur dove aside just as Morgan got her shield back up. The impact knocked her against the wall. Panting, she kept the shield up as the wraith continued to strike with its claws. Wounded and enraged, it hadn’t seen Arthur dive out from behind Morgan.

Arthur rolled to his feet and aimed both guns at the beast. “Hi there.”

The wraith turned and glared at him. Arthur fired two shots into its face, and it went down. As soon as it hit the floor, it turned to smoke.

Arthur glanced up. The numina and servitors were still fighting — and losing — against a pair of wraiths at the other end of the hallway. He took off running. “Morgan!”

“I see them,” she responded, as she dropped her shield and followed him.

Arthur fired his raygun down the hallway, distracting the two remaining wraiths. When he got close enough to aim, he stopped, focused, and fired. He hit one in the back of the head. It toppled forward — right onto Lexi, who sliced and diced it, her claws blurring, until it was nothing more than a fading wisp of inky, sulfurous smoke. Morgan force-punched the other wraith in the back of the knee, though Arthur was pretty sure she had aimed at its head. As it fell, Vassalus jumped onto it and tore its throat out.

Arthur rushed up to the others. “Is everyone okay?

“I would have to say no, chap,” Vassalus groaned. He licked at a wound on his side that was leaking silvery blood. “I have most certainly been better. This feels worse than it looks. Wraith claws are far from pleasant.”

“You can say that again, Buster Chumps,” Lexi said, panting. A jagged wound ran down her back. She flicked her head one way, then the other, trying to reach it, but it was no good.

“Who, Alexis, is Buster Chumps?” asked Vassalus.

“You don’t know?” she replied.

“How could I? I have only been alive for a day, and the knowledge imparted to us by the Lady Ylliara is far from complete.”

“Well, Buster Chumps is … well, you see, he’s …” She sighed painfully and lay down. “You know, I really don’t have a clue who Buster Chumps is. Maybe I just made him up.”

“Well,” Vassalus added, “you did get hit on the head a few times …”

Arthur squatted beside Lexi, examined her wound, and winced — this was his fault. If he hadn't let the warlock distract him for so long, they wouldn't have gotten hurt. “Lexi, this looks bad. What should I do? I don't know any first aid.” He shot a panicked look at Morgan. “Do you?”

With a worried expression on her face, Morgan shook her head.

“It's nothing a spot of tea and a nap wouldn't fix in a right jiffy,” said Lexi. “But seeing as how I can’t have tea before my nap … it might take a little longer than I’d like.”

The two numina looked really beat up, and their banter did nothing to make him feel better — Arthur knew they were just doing it so he wouldn’t worry too much. They had plenty of smaller injuries in addition to the big, ugly cuts. Vassalus was favoring one of his front paws, and Lexi kept shifting around like she couldn't get comfortable. Arthur was worried that she'd broken a rib.

Vassalus slumped down, miserably, beside Morgan.

“You’ve got burns on your muzzle,” Morgan said to him, her voice starting to quiver oddly. “They look pretty bad.”

“Nothing a night or so of sleep will not cure, my dear. Worry not for me.”

Arthur noticed then that Lexi had a burn on her side, as well as burns on her paws and her muzzle. He hadn’t recognized what they were at first, since even Lexi’s burn marks were monochrome.

“I didn’t think the wraiths could burn you,” Arthur said.

“The shades can’t,” Lexi replied with a grunt as she struggled to her feet before resettling in a different position, “but the wraiths can. Their claws are even worse, though.”

The servitors, with the exception of Valet, had all shuffled about ten feet away when Arthur had arrived. It suddenly occurred to him that if the numina had sustained this many injuries, the servitors had to be just as bad off, if not worse. They weren’t as strong or tough. What if the servitors weren’t just being deferential by stepping away? What if they were hiding something?

“What about you guys?” He waved for them to come over, not wanting to leave Lexi's side.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

But they didn't hurry over. Instead, Cook and Arms stepped to the side so he could see Waiter slumped on the floor, unmoving. Horrified, Arthur jumped to his feet and rushed over. Waiter lay clutching a hand over his shoulder, near his neck, and his leg had been ripped up bad enough that blood pooled beneath him. When he saw Arthur, Waiter struggled into a sitting position.

“Waiter! Are you going to be okay?” Arthur asked.

Waiter shrugged.

Arthur reached out to help the servitor, but pulled back again, unsure what to do. “How — how can I help?”

Waiter shook his head.

“Isn't there anything we can do?” His voice cracked with desperation. “Anything at all?”

“Maybe … maybe we could bind the wound,” Morgan suggested.

“I'm sorry, but that will not work for us,” Vassalus said. “We are not flesh in the sense that the two of you are — not really. The servitors should heal in time … or else … well, there is only so much damage we can recover from … I should think.”

“Will he … will he die?” Arthur asked.

“Nothing for it but to wait and see.” Vassalus said bracingly. “Let them take him somewhere to rest, Master Paladin.”

Arthur nodded miserably. “Of course.”

Arms helped Cook and Valet lift Waiter, and they began to carry him slowly and carefully toward the Great Room. Once he tore his eyes off Waiter, Arthur noticed that Cook had cuts on both cheeks and a rip in her side that dripped silvery blood down her apron. Valet was limping badly, and his sword arm was soaked in blood. Even Arms wasn't unscathed. He had tons of small rips and tears all over his uniform, but at least he wasn't obviously bleeding anywhere.

Arthur hoped they’d all be okay. He desperately wished that there was something he could do for them. A night of rest had healed Valet after they had fought the monster in the training room; he had to believe some rest would cure the others as well.

Morgan suddenly muttered something under her breath, and then knelt down on the floor and grasped her stomach. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“What’s the matter?” Arthur asked her.

Trembling, Morgan shook her head and choked back a gag.

“Nerves,” Vassalus said. “The danger has passed; the adrenaline is gone. Not everyone … not even the most adventurous of souls … is as born to this as you were, Master Paladin.”

Lexi nodded and said with a yawn, “You were made for this, Arthur Primus. And without you, we would all be lost.”

Arthur glanced back down the hallway toward the door at the end and thought of how the warlock had taken over his mind. Only a good kick by Morgan had brought him to his senses and saved them. Without her noticing that he’d faded out, the vision the warlock had used to strike fear into his heart would’ve come true.

That whole plan of charging down the hallway … it was stupid. What had he been thinking, charging out into the middle of the hallway like that? He’d been so sure of himself, but it was pure luck that no one had died — and he wasn’t certain Waiter was going to make it. That could just as easily have been Lexi … or Morgan.

Arthur suddenly couldn't get enough air. It felt like Derek was sitting on his chest, pinning him down like he so often had done. But Derek was gone; Arthur had left him to die. Some hero he was. If the others were depending on him, they were all doomed. Lexi's last words in the warlock’s vision replayed in his mind. Arthur ... why didn't you save us?

He started sweating and shaking as panic erupted within him. If the warlock could play with his mind that easily while still trapped behind a protective rune, then what would he do once they came face-to-face? Everything the warlock had said was true: he had been abandoned, he didn’t have any training, and he wasn’t prepared for any of this.

“Arthur, are you okay?” Morgan asked him, her voice weak. She still looked like she might throw up.

“I’m not the Multiversal Paladin,” he said dully. It was hard to look at the others now, especially Morgan. He kept seeing her broken and lifeless body on the floor.

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“The Aetheria only accepted me because I'm the last Paladin left. My father abandoned me because he knew I was never going to be good enough.”

“Arthur …” Morgan sighed, “that’s a load of crap.”

“Remember when I zoned out, down at the other end of the hallway? It was because I heard the warlock’s voice inside my head. He spoke to me and told me that —”

Lexi interrupted him. “It doesn’t matter what he said, dearie. You are the Multiversal Paladin. You can — and will — defeat him.”

“Don’t forget you’ve got something important your father didn’t have,” Morgan added matter-of-factly. “You’ve got me!”

A hint of a smile formed on Arthur’s face — then vanished.

The warlock had threatened to kill Morgan. And he would, given the chance.

Something snapped inside Arthur.

The world shrank to a tunnel of shadows. And once again, it seemed that he had two hearts thundering within his chest. Blood pounded in his ears, blocking out all other sounds, as Arthur’s eyes locked onto the door of the Inner Sanctum and the glowing sigil that kept the evil in that room from killing them all right now. If he had to die, so be it. But he was not letting anyone else get hurt because of him. Ever since Grandpa Nelson had passed, Arthur had felt like he'd been fighting against the boring life he felt trapped in. For the first time, he had something to fight for. He wasn't alone anymore; he had friends — real friends. And he was going to protect them.

Gritting his teeth, Arthur drew his rayguns and started toward the Inner Sanctum.

“It’s time to end this.”

Morgan stepped in front of him. “You can’t take him on now, moron.”

“I have to.”

Lexi bit into the cuff of Arthur’s jeans, and tugged him backward.

“Morgan, get out of my way! Lexi, let go of me!” Neither budged. “I have to face him — alone — now — before he hurts any of you to get to me.”

“You’re not ready to face him,” Morgan said. “And we don’t even have a plan.”

He shook his leg, trying to make Lexi let go. “You heard Lady Ylliara; I don’t have much time.”

“We have a little,” said Morgan. “And we need to spend it exploring the other rooms. We need to figure out what we’re up against and learn all we can about how to fight it.”

“There is no we in this.” He reached out to push her aside, but she slapped her wrists together and threw her force field up before he could touch her. “Morgan, I am not letting you get killed for me! Now get out of my way!”

“Don't be such a moron!” Morgan snapped. “You can't beat him alone yet, and if you fail, we don't stand a chance without you. You are the Multiversal Paladin, and we are your companions, whether you like it or not.”

“Too true, chap,” Vassalus added, “too true. We are still exhausted from the last battle; it is a poor time to start a new one. And remember your father’s sword, Bright-Cage. You need it, and it could be in one of the other rooms.”

“Please calm down,” Morgan urged him.

Arthur took a deep breath and tried to calm his emotions, for her. He knew they were right and that he couldn’t face the warlock like this. He had to rest first and prepare. But the power in him — the two-hearts-beating rush of emotion — was overwhelming. And the door to the Inner Sanctum still drew him, as if the warlock was silently taunting him from behind it. He couldn't look away, and he couldn't stop his feet from taking another step toward it. With unnatural strength, he dragged Lexi along as he tried to step around Morgan.

She popped him in the face with her force field. As he recoiled in surprise, his eyes tearing up, she said, “Calm down and let it go!”

“Morgan, you don't understand. I have to —”

She made a tut-tut sound and shook her head. “Arthur, am I going to have to put you through the Tetris Calm?”

Startled, Arthur took his eyes off the door and looked right at Morgan.

“I don’t have any cards, but I want you to picture the T-shaped Tetris piece, upside down, in red — no, wait, picture it in purple.”

Arthur stared at her in disbelief, blinking slowly. The shadows faded, and the second heartbeat ceased. For a moment, he actually pictured the piece she had mentioned.

She dropped her shield and smiled. “Good. Now picture the L-shaped piece in a nice, soothing blue falling toward the first piece …”

“Morgan, you see Dr. Edelman for counseling, too?” he asked, perplexedly.

The Tetris Calm was a meditative technique Dr. Edelman used where he had you visualize playing Tetris with the pieces he showed you on flashcards. Dr. Edelman had developed the technique himself; Arthur doubted anyone else in the world used it.

“Of course,” Morgan replied.

“How’d you know I went to see him?”

“Well, there are only two psychiatrists in town who specialize in children and young adults, and one of them is too lame to handle you. Besides, I saw your file on his desk one day.” She looked away and chewed at her lip. “And I … may … have had a peek at the contents while he popped out of the room.”

Surprisingly, Arthur didn’t care that she had. Anything she’d read in that file she’d seen or heard firsthand by now. It’s not like his issues were a secret, and any she’d missed before, she’d seen on display over the last day.

“Edelman’s really weird, huh?” Arthur said.

Morgan hesitated, probably because she had expected him to be mad at her for reading his file. “You mean he’s weird like us, right? I like him.”

“You would.”

“He’s much better than my other psychiatrist, Dr. Shanks,” Morgan said. “Shanks is creepy and unsympathetic.”

“Is he fascinated by Tetris?”

Morgan smiled. “He’s fascinated by long-winded phrases and his fingernails.”

“You see both of them?”

“Yeah, unfortunately.”

Arthur realized he’d forgotten, for a few moments, all about the warlock. Morgan was like magic; she could actually calm him down! He had the sudden urge to hug her, but knew better.

“Morgan, I think you’re right. We are friends, and we have been, ever since we met. I mean, how could we not be? I just didn’t realize it.”

Morgan grinned. “That’s because you’re a moron.”

“Maybe I am.”

Suddenly, the lanterns down the Grand Hallway flared to full strength.

“Whoa,” Arthur said. “Check this place out.”

The hallway was grand, alright. The polished wood floors and lacquered panels on the walls gleamed beneath the blazing lanterns hanging from the rafters; the golden handles and plaques on the doors sparkled, along with elaborate tapestries and paintings, and the statuettes that stood in niches between the rooms.

The brightened hallway lifted his mood.

Morgan sighed with relief. “Welcome home, Arthur.”

Arthur ran his hands through his mussed-up, shock-white hair. As he gazed down the length of the Grand Hallway, he smiled — despite his exhaustion and injuries, despite the danger, even despite his feeling that he wasn’t really worthy of all this.

Two days ago, his life had seemed endlessly disappointing, with the threat of military school and years of frustration looming over him … but Arthur had been flung away from all that and across the universe. Now, he wasn’t stuck in Rockville where he would die of boredom at a dreary old age. Now, he had a purpose, and his life was going somewhere. With the Door To Many Worlds, it could literally go anywhere. And the best part was that he wouldn’t be alone.

* * *

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