Note: It was said in The Key that the outer worlds cannot be viewed from ours. As I don't think the middle realm would be considered one of the outer worlds, I took the liberty of assuming Arkarian could see into it.

I am supposed to be monitoring Ethan's progress in the middle world, but my eyes keep shifting to Isabel, a burning white figure running lightly through the dreary grey fields toward the bridge that will seal her fate.

I feel as though there is a hand around my heart, and with each of Isabel's footfalls, it squeezes harder. It is a hand of fear, of the clarity with which I see Ethan failing. He is not her soul-mate, although why I am so certain of this I do not know.

I want to believe I am the one. I love this girl, this tiny dynamo who glows with courage and intrepidity. It is completely ridiculous; I barely know her, I have only just met her weeks ago. Logically, I know this is mere limerence, the obsessive thinking of a romantically deprived, eternally adolescent lunatic. Even if she felt anything for me, our relationship would always remain platonic. And after all, she has feelings for Ethan, harbored since she was a child.

Ethan's cry forces me out of my cogitation, and I refocus on the holographic representation of the middle world. It reminds me of a pencil drawing, completely filled in with shades of gray but for an erased patch in the shape of a human.

Ethan's voice echoes, and I pray that the reason Isabel cannot hear it is the distance between them. He sprints as fast as he can to catch up, when whatever nightmare he sees in his mind suddenly makes him halt. With eyes narrowed in aggravation, I watch him take cover under a boulder. "Get up!" I hiss frantically. "It's not real."

It feels like aeons are passing, and I am delirious with worry and impatience. I flex my fingers, crack my knuckles, scratch my face and neck with both hands. Finally, Ethan straightens up, looking around, taking calming breaths.

He breaks into a run, yelling out Isabel's name, and for a moment I think he succeeded. I am torn in two, feeling tremendous relief and immeasurable sorrow. But then I see she only stopped to smell a flower, a ghost of a blossom. Ethan stops dead in his tracks. I dig my nails into the back of my head, wondering what phantasm has captured him now, when he addresses the invisible horror.

"Marduke, I didn't know you were a lost soul."

I freeze at his words. Marduke is Ethan's worst demon. He has haunted his dreams for a decade. How can Ethan possibly dispel him now?

I look at Isabel, and my chest surges with dread. She is only feet away from the bridge now. Ethan is still conversing with the imaginary traitor, but I am unable to concentrate on his words. Isabel takes another step, and I know what I have to do.

The chamber dissolves around me, and the whole world turns gray.