Gwen held her breath, looking at three different pistols pointed in her direction, and another four aimed at Aloysius. The hooded figure stood in the doorway with his arms folded.

Aloysius relaxed back in his chair with a smile and crossed one of his legs.

"Welcome to my home," he said congenially. "May I offer you some tea?" he swept his arm toward the kettle.

Gwen tensely watched a confused frown spread across the man's face.

"Do you think this is a joke?" he growled at Aloysius.

"Well," he laughed, "You have to admit, it is rather funny."

This time Gwen and the intruder both gaped at him. Gwen wondered if he had gone mental.

"You brought guns. I mean really," he laughed a little more and wiped away a small tear. "It's just precious," he said, as if he were complementing a two-year-old's macaroni drawing.

Aloysius flicked his wrist and seven guns fell to the floor, their owners clutching their scorched hands. One pistol discharged, but bounced off of an invisible shield an inch from Aloysius' face and lodged itself in the wall beside him. He didn't so much as blink.

Glowering at the hired security team and his eyes aglow with white magic, he said "Leave," in a commanding voice. The men fled from Aloysius' presence with haste, tripping over one another, their minds' overcome with magic induced terror. Gwen heard them wrench open the front door and race out of the mansion.

Aloysius leaned back in his chair and placed his index fingers back to his lips, looking up at the stunned hooded man.

"Please, do continue," Aloysius said evenly. "I believe you were about to threaten me. Although, I must say, you seem rather green at this."

The man looked incensed. His hands were balled into fists and his jaw clenched.

Aloysius reached his hand forward, and the hooded figure flinched, but Aloysius merely took his cup and sipped his tea. The action had felt like the threat of a spell; changing the man from angry to cowering.

"You wouldn't kill me," said the intruder, puffing himself up haughtily, "you don't want anything to happen to your son."

Aloysius made a chuckling sound.

"You have that backwards. Abducting my son was a very poor life decision."

Gwen marveled at how quickly Aloysius could switch from jovial to wholly frightening.

"Don't do anything foolish, Viscount."

"Hand over my son," he said, his black eyes cold and terrifying, "and I won't."

With a scowl and a quick chant, the man vanished.

"Is it wise to antagonize them like that? They might hurt Hieronymous," Gwen asked quickly, worrying at her lower lip.

"If I cooperate with them, my dear, they will certainly end my son. The more they believe they need the leverage, the safer he is, I assure you."

Gwen reached down and scooped up a 9mm pistol, snapping the safety on with a practiced motion.

"I'll clean this up for you," she said, clicking on the safeties of each gun.

"Thank you. Wizards find guns base things," he yawned. "Allow me to show you the way to the room you'll be staying in."

Aloysius made his way down the hall and lead them to a grand wooden staircase. After ascending the stairs to the first landing, they came to a hall with four doors. He walked to the closest door and had just placed his hand on the knob when he was startled by a voice in his mind.

"Father, help me."

Aloysius' eyes widened in surprise.

"Gwen, help me."

Gwen jumped.

"I heard him, just now," she said, looking up at Aloysius.

"As did I," replied Aloysius, looking hopeful, but curious.

"I feel... drawn somewhere," she said, unsure how to describe the sensation.

"It's part of the Far Speak Location spell. It draws the target in the direction of the caster."

"So, what do we do now?" Gwen asked, wide awake and ready to mount a rescue.

"'We' aren't going to do anything. I am going to gather a group of witches and wizards from the council. You, are going to get some sleep. Young witches have no business venturing into the Otherworld," he opened the door to the guest room and waited for her to step inside.

Gwen frowned at him.

"Don't worry, we'll get him back," he said, reassuring.

"Alright," she said reluctantly.

She walked into the dark guest room and closed the door behind her. Aloysius' footsteps echoed down the hall as he walked away.

As Gwen crawled into the neatly made bed, she couldn't ignore the pull of the location spell. Or forget the sound of Hieronymous' voice in her mind. She stared at the ceiling and sighed in exasperation, knowing falling asleep was impossible.

Hieronymous looked around, seeing a bright mist in every direction. Slowly, it began to subside. He walked out of the gate to Iris Academy and looked around. The mist was barely visible now. He looked up at the clock tower, checking the time. The fountain next to him gurgled quietly, the only sound in the courtyard. Flowers everywhere in the quad were in full bloom. He adjusted his dark blue cape. The falcon on his belt buckle glinted in the sunlight, bathing the grounds of Iris Academy.

"Where am I?" he asked aloud, absent-mindedly.

Racing footsteps came from within the school gate. A young woman darted out of the entrance, her purple cape of Butterfly Hall flapping behind her. She sprinted up to him and then stooped over, catching her breathe. Her straight, long black hair fell around her as she leaned forward.

"Sorry... I'm... late," she said, her words punctuated with deep breathes.

"Violet," he whispered to himself.

"I know I promised I'd be on time, this time," she said with a cheerful smile.

A flood of memories overwhelmed Hieronymous, reorienting him.

"You didn't have to run all the way here," he replied, shaking his head with a smile, "Oversleep again?"

"Y-yeah..." she said, slightly embarrassed. She stood up straight and tossed her hair back over her shoulders. "I wish they'd let me bring my alarm clock," she said, smiling back at him.

Hieronymous frowned, feeling uneasy.

"Hey, something wrong?" she asked, concerned.

"No," he paused, "No, it's nothing," he said, the feeling slipping away. He felt alive and carefree on this perfect spring day.

Her hand slipped into his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

He squeezed her hand back and lead them down one of the paths lined with beautiful purple irises.

They walked along taking in the sights and talking.

"I was up late, working on Potsdam's assignment. I think it turned out really well. Oh, before I forget, what would you like for your birthday?" she asked, her face lighting up with excitement.

He was about to reply when he stopped. Something on the edge of his mind was bothering him again.

"What is it?" she asked, her brow creased. She placed a hand gingerly on his cheek, searching his dark eyes.

"Violet..." he said slowly. "I feel like I haven't seen you in a very long time."

"You're right. We haven't seen each other in a long time, because school's been out for summer."

This seemed plausible, but rang false.

"No, that isn't it," he said, concentrating on the truth gnawing in the back of his mind, just out of reach. He clutched her hand on the side of his face, holding it close.

He felt a glimmer of understanding begin to dawn.

"You... died," he said uncertainly.

"What?" she asked, deeply troubled by his accusation. She laughed, finding the idea ridiculous, "I think I would remember something like that."

His was inclined to agree with her. It was absurd to argue that someone standing in front of you was dead.

"Maybe you're right. Perhaps I was mistaken," he said, trying to recall if someone else had died recently. How could he make such a mistake, he wondered. He tried to remember all the funerals he could recall attending, but only one came to mind. Hers.

"No," he said, absolutely sure. "You died, I remember it."

"Then why am I here?" she asked in disbelief, stating the obvious. It was tempting to agree with her, but he had remembered the truth and now there was no forgetting it.

"You're not. You're my memory of Violet... I'm dreaming."

The moment he said it, he felt the veracity of it. Becoming fully aware of his dream, everything around him gained clarity and his memory fully returned. The mist around them completely evaporated. His high school uniform disappeared, replaced with his instructors robes. He looked four years older.

"Oh, my God..." Violet said, her eyes filled with tears, "then, am I really dead?"

"...yes," Hieronymous said. Despite being in a dream, he felt terrible being the one to tell her.

She turned away, shaking with choked sobs.

He gently hugged her from behind, resting his chin on her head.

"I'm sorry," he said, trying to console her.

"H-hey, what are you cheering me up for? I'm not really here," she said through her sobs.

"Maybe not... but, I've upset you none the less."

"Hieronymous... I'm so sorry," she turned and hugged him, crying harder.

"It's alright, it's not your fault," he said gently, stroking her hair, trying to imagine she were real, and not a projection of his subconscious mind.

"How did I die?" she whispered, pleading.

He looked into the distance, seeing the events of the past unfold.

Violet screamed as Hieronymous was pinned by a horde of goblins. She cast spells at the creatures, trying to save him. Beneath his wards his soul was safe, but his body was not. Trapped beneath the violent horde, he was helpless to act as the goblins descended upon her. And her wards, unlike his, broke in an instant.

He looked away from the scene, her screams ringing in his ears. He willed the vision away and they were once again alone together in the quiet school grounds.

Violet quietly sat down on a stone bench, deep in thought.

He sat down beside her, watching her face.

"What happened then... I don't blame you for any of it, you know that, right?"

"I know," he said, looking at the clouds in the sky.

"Do you blame yourself?" she asked knowingly.

"Of course," he said simply. "And don't waste your time talking me out of feeling guilty. I knew better than to bring you there."

"Yes, but it was my idea to go in the first place."

"That doesn't make it any less my fault," he replied.

"Stubborn man," she said wistfully, putting her head on his shoulder.

"Are you and Aloysius still talking?"

He snorted at the idea of talking to his father.

Violet scowled at him.

"He loves you, you know. Don't let me being gone come between the two of you."

"You know it goes much further back than you."

She sighed.

"Well, alright," she said grudgingly dropping the subject. "What's new in your life?"

"I finished my degree and I teach at Iris Academy. And most recently, I was coerced into getting married," he said with a chuckle.

"What?" she said, sitting up straight. "You were forced into marrying someone?"

"Well, it was to save her soul. It wasn't some sort of scandal."

"Oh," she said sitting back. "Well, that must be awkward. But, I must know, what is the Mrs. Grabiner like?" she asked playfully.

Hieronymous thought of Gwen.

"She's brave, intelligent, stubborn and impetuous. Usually in that order," he said smiling despite himself.

"Do you like her?" she asked roguishly.

"I don't dislike her."

"You know what I mean," she said, giving him a warm and playful smile.

Seeing her cheerful smile again pierced the last of his defenses. His heart ached ferociously.

He held her close, burying his face in her hair.

"I miss you so much," he said in a choked whispered.

The dream began to slip away, and he felt himself waking up.

"I'm always with you, stubborn man."

The words began to fade, even as they echoed inside his head.

His eyes flew open as he awoke in a large, stone room. Sitting up, he looked around. He looked at his hands to see them bound by chains.

I can break these with ease, he thought to himself. He looked up, seeing Alcinous sitting confidently across the room.

"Stubborn is right," Hieronymous said quietly, smiling wickedly, plotting his revenge.

Gwen wondered in vain what time it was. Although wizards seemed to approve of clocks, this room didn't have one. Abandoning her bed she got up and stalked around the room, attempting to tire herself out. From the back of her mind, the location spell beckoned her to a dimension she couldn't reach. Exasperated, she kicked her bed frame. The frame slid, hitting a night stand. A large vase teetered precariously and, to Gwen's horror, fell.

A shadowy hand intercepted it before it hit the ground.

"That could have been expensive."

Startled, Gwen screamed at the top of her lungs and jumped back.

The man cloaked in shadow fluidly returned the vase to its perch. Folding his arms, he leaned back against the wall casually.

Gwen caught her breath. Her heart was pounding in her chest violently. She looked toward the door.

"Aloysius is gone," he said. His voice was still as deep and distorted as it had been the last time she had seen him at Iris Academy's auditorium.

"You scared me half to death," she hissed at him, her pulse still thudding.

"Apologies, Lady Grabiner," he said, with a half bow.

"You have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don't know yours," she said, eying him with a mixture of fear and curiosity. His form was made entirely out of shadows. They whipped and danced around in the vague form of a man hooded in an unusual style of robes.

"My name is Agravian," he said.

Gwen was relieved he didn't extend his hand. She wasn't sure if touching someone made of shadow was safe, or even possible. If she was being brutally honest with herself, just talking to someone made of shadow probably wasn't the safest thing she had ever done.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this late night visit, Agravian?"

"I require your assistance with a matter that is both very dangerous, and quite unorthodox. In exchange, however, I will assist you in saving your husband, Lord Grabiner."

Before Gwen could reply, he raised his hand and continued.

"I can assure you, with my assistance, our success is assured."

Gwen bit her lip, unsure. Aloysius seemed confident in his ability to rescue Hieronymous.

"Right now you're thinking, you don't need me because Aloysius is preparing a rescue."

She wondered if he was psychic or if he had been eavesdropping.

"Aloysius said he doesn't need my help," Gwen said, recalling his insistence that she remain away from the Otherworld.

"Although that is what he said, what the Viscount Montague doesn't realize, is that he is walking into a trap," Agravian said sounding assured of himself.

"How do I know I can trust you?" Gwen asked.

"You don't. But the alternative is to let Aloysius die. And possibly Hieronymous," he said solemnly.

Gwen thought very hard, and then said, "Promise you will help me rescue Aloysius and Hieronymous. That you will make sure all three of us escape safely back to Iris Academy."

A promise in the magical world is a binding contract, after all, Gwen thought. To violate it was to lose your powers and your memory, too.

"Of these things, I promise," he said, his voice changing suddenly to friendly. "Then we have an accord."

He paced the room with nonchalance.

"I will open a portal for you tomorrow, when the time is right. The place you are going is well guarded by both goblins and demons alike. We will not escape without great effort. Your novice magic skills will not be enough to combat your enemies," he said, stopping in front of her.

"I'll be prepared," she said, a sly grin crossing her face as an idea occurred to her. She looked up at him, "You never explained what you needed from me in return."

"Soon," he replied simply.

He raised his hand and chanted. His low, guttural voice boomed, filling the room until it echoed from the walls. A black and crimson light swirled in his raised right hand, illuminating the room in red light and swirls of black shadows. Gwen stared, fascinated.

Enunciating the last three syllables of the spell in a roar, he drove his hand quick as lightning through Gwen's chest.

Gwen gasped as she felt her blood run cold. She cried out as a burning sensation filled her chest, below her collar bone.

"My mark," Agravian said, pulling his hand back. "Our contract is sealed."

He disappeared, leaving her alone in the room.

The crimson light still illuminated the walls, even in his absence.

Clutching her chest where it had been impaled, she rushed toward a mirror and looked at her reflection. Red runes burned brightly across her chest. Her body was barely visible; she was a figure of dancing shadows.