3..........

It wasn’t black as she’d been told, but dull gray, tarnished by its imprisonment in time. Who knew how long it had really stood in its sixteen years. Pima’s view wavered and lengthened. The Tower that had been right there, so close, was pushed back ten, twenty, fifty yards. She stumbled to her feet.

“Akish?” she said, her voice strained.

He also stumbled to his feet and stood there, a dazed look in his eyes. He reached for her hand as ghostly figures began to rise up out of the ground. With a shout, he dropped her hand and charged toward the nearest figure, gun loaded and drawn. The spell that had kept them all locked in place snapped. The wall of fog fell like a curtain around their shoulders once more. But the Tower was still visible, now one hundred yards up ahead.

“Move! After him!” Neeman shouted. “To the Tower!”

The crowd surged forward into the fog, weapons held at the ready. Pima clutched her knife in one hand and a bomb in the other. She wasn’t sure if either would be an effective weapon in this fight.

The connection she felt to the keys helped her to stick close to her brother and Neeman while everyone else was consumed by the fog. She doubted that she could turn back if she wanted to; the keys and the Tower tugged at her feet, pulling her forward.

The guardian apparitions - insubstantial figures conjured by the Tower with its crafted power of protection - stalked through the fog. Pima punched and kicked and slashed. Detonations rang out all around her, but she didn’t reach for a second bomb. The first one hadn’t seemed to do much damage when she threw it, and the risk of tossing it out into this blinding maze became evident when she heard screams follow a detonation.

The figures responded to her straight-on assaults as if they were being injured, but instead of dropping after her knife stuck their sides, they vanished. She kept her feet pointed toward her destination but kept twisting and turning to look behind her, expecting an assailant to reappear behind her at any moment and strike her in the back.

Her arms and legs were covered in scratches but nothing that kept her from walking on. This felt odd when she heard screams all around her. Who knew what was real and what might be a trick to lure her astray? As if it heard her thoughts, the figure of Neeman’s father appeared before her. An unnatural hush fell like a bubble around her. She halted, her knife pointed at the figure’s chest.

“Turn back,” the figure told her in a deep, monotone voice. “Turn back now. You don’t belong here. Turn back.”

Pima’s legs turned to jelly. She locked her knees and held her head high, refusing to drop before him.

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“Turn back!” the figure insisted in an animalistic growl. “Your brother is weak, and you are weak. You will not succeed.”

“I can’t.” She gritted her teeth and dug her heels into the mud as the figure took hold of her shoulder. She didn’t try to fight him off. Instead, she leaned closer and screamed into his ear, “I will try! I will not back down! I will not run from you!”

The figure turned its empty eyes on her. He grabbed her wrist, yanking the knife from her grip and tossing it aside. It disappeared in the fog, and she shivered when she heard a scream echo back. His nails dug into her shoulder, so sharp they felt like iron nails being driven through her flesh, through her muscles, to her bone. She cried out in agony and heard someone shout her name.

The guardian bared his teeth in a wild grin. “Perhaps you will.” He picked her up, spun around, and tossed her toward the Tower’s shadow. Another scream was involuntarily ripped from her throat as she flew through the air and landed on her shoulder. She felt her muscles stretched beyond their limit and heard a popping sound.

She held her breath until the initial shock of pain subsided, and then sat up and peered around for the ghostly figure. She gasped in surprise when she realized that she had landed a few feet from the Tower in a patch of ground cleared of fog. The figure was nowhere in sight, but the Tower door stared back at her, tantalizing close.

“Pima! Pima!”

Neeman fought his way out of the fog and ran over to her, Akish on his heels. They each took an arm and hauled her to her feet, steadying her as she swayed from side to side.

“What happened?” Akish asked.

“The...the Tower…” She glanced over at Neeman, who had remained silent. She took in the cut over his eye that was still bleeding and the way he stood off balance, mostly on his right leg, and winced. His eyes scanned the open area before taking five long strides toward the Tower and slamming his hand against its heavy metal door. He yanked his hand back as if he had been burned. He fumbled the key from around his neck, shoved aside the cover that hid the lock from view, and jammed the key in the lock.

A boom echoed from the Tower, and the ground shook. Pima hung onto Akish’s arm, not sure how much longer she would be able to stand on her feet. Her vision swam before her eyes, but she saw the door open and the look of triumph on Neeman’s face.

“There,” he half croaked, half wheezed. Pima and Akish stood, motionless, as he stumbled back to the edge of the barrier of fog surrounding them. He sank to the ground and shut his eyes. “Ak...Akish…”

It sounded like he was having trouble breathing. Pima took a step toward him. A body fell out of the mist, striking Neeman across the back and pinning him to the ground.

“Neeman!”

Too late, brother and sister realized it was one of their own, dead or wounded, and his attacker was right behind him.

“Akish! Akish, go!” Pima yelled as the figure rushed them. She threw herself into its path, but it tossed her aside like she weighed nothing and rammed its hand into Akish’s chest. No weapon. Just a hand that ripped open his chest.

Akish’s lips parted, but Pima’s voice filled the unnatural silence, a wordless scream. He fell to his knees beside her. His eyes found her, and he held out his hand. His palm pressed against hers, and she felt metal brush her fingertips.

Before she could take a breath, before she could think, before terror could paralyze her, she snatched the gold key from his hand, dove for her knife, which had landed blade sticking into the ground not far from where they stood, spun around, and sprinted for the door.

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