The first thing Wes saw was the moon. Now, he didn't know what time it was when he was running from mummies and nurses, so he didn't know whether or not he'd lost any more time. It was a new fear he never thought he'd have to deal with, losing track of a month. Through the window before him, the moon was a crescent.

Wes looked around. He was in a round room made of stone bricks. Medieval, but new. And he wasn't alone. Of course, he was sprawled on the wood floor next to Jazz. But across the room laying upon a four-postered bed was a slumbering woman.

"Jazz? Are you okay?" Wes asked.

She nodded, saying, "And you?" Wes shrugged.

"You should not be here," a woman's voice said, startling both Wes and Jazz. It was the woman in the bed, now evidently awake.

"What?" Wes said.

"You should not be in this place."

"We're sorry. We came through a portal. We were being chased by a-" Jazz stopped talking all of the sudden. She looked at Wes, hesitance clear on her face. She didn't know if she should say 'ghost' to this woman. Would she believe them? "By someone who wanted to hurt us," she said instead. True enough.

"And yet, this place is not a haven for you." She frowned. "Not today." Wes stiffened. Is that a threat?

She stood, beckoning them to follow her. "Come." Wes and Jazz looked at one another, silently deliberating.

Finally, they shrugged, not knowing what else to do. They followed. The woman led them down wood steps, which creaked as they put their weight on them. Their destination was the front door.

"I am sorry to bid you farewell, but it is in all our best interests. Were it any other day, fortune would smile on you. You've been touched by death the both of you; you need some luck."

"Wait. What's your name? And what about death?" Jazz asked.

"I am the Priestess. Now go! May the World smile upon you." She closed the door. They were left in the night air. Wes shivered. Death?

They found a babbling stream not far from the Priestess' tower. It was freezing but drinkable (Wes had learned from his brother that one should never drink still water, but moving water was fair game).

"Where should we go?" he asked his companion. "We don't know where we are. If I'm not crazy, we're not in Kansas anymore, if you catch my drift!"

"Yeah. I gathered that, thanks." She started walking. "C'mon."

"Where are you going?"

"We'll follow the river." And so they did.

Until they came upon a crowd of people. Loud people with torches and swords. A mob. Wes and Jazz ducked behind a bush. They were following a dirt path, heading toward the tower they'd left. They said as much:

"The witch's tower is not much further," shouted one man, with a great big sword on his hip. The mob cheered at his proclamation.

The crowd passed out of sight and then out of hearing range.

"A witch," Wes gasped.

"Shh!"

"What?"

Jazz pointed. A pair of horses, one black and the other white, was pulling a chariot. A man stood atop it. He shouted Whoah! till they stopped.

"Ahoy there. I'm The Chariot. You wouldn't perhaps know of a Weston, now would you?"

"Why?" asked Wes' his paranoia back in spades. The Chariot just looked at him, an eyebrow raised.

"The Priestess in a Tower, talking about the World and Death, and now the Chariot. It's like we're in a Tarot deck." Jazz mused.

"Ding ding ding!" exclaimed the Chariot. "Congrats, you win a prize!" He snapped his fingers and a portal appeared beneath their feet. Gravity pulled them down. The man called out, "May the World smile upon you!"