Dan places the last of three vials filled with water on the center table, on the side directly opposite of me. He then sits down in front of the vials, and lifts each one onto one of the three cobblestone cups at the base of a glowing orange rod. As it catches my attention, I begin to realize that this glowing rod has an unusual shape. Its tall narrow neck, with columns of stone riding up against it, its upper tips protruding outward, and in the other direction its mass widening and flattening, makes it seem alien... almost organic. Its curvature gives it the appearance of the tall body of some sort of creature... suggestively armless, but not exactly like a Creeper. It looks almost like a fortress, the outline of the stone forming a decorative molding around it.

"What is that thing?" I can't help but say, staring at the strange structure.

Dan nods with his head downward, his eyes watching the orange rod as he places the third vial within the remaining stone bowl. "Nothing less than a brewing stand." He lifts his head up to look at me, his eyes squinted with scepticism. "It brings the heat of the Nether to our world. It's essential for making potions."

"I see..." I debate whether or not I should ask another question. Even though Dan's response doesn't feel like a sufficient explanation, I feel as if I shouldn't say anything. His piercing glare suggests that this place is far too austere for small talk.

This is not the same Dan that I knew five minutes ago.

Dan turns his back to me, and walks toward the shelves on the far wall. His head tilts from left to right, scanning the shelves for something he wants. After about a minute of scanning, his head stops.

"Of all the questions buzzing inside of my head, one keeps coming to the front..." He reaches for several pouches on an upper shelf, walks toward the center table, and sets them down next to the brewing stand. He looks back up at me. "...What were you planning to do after you killed the guards?"

I try to think back on the moment after I killed the second guard, the one who was running toward me with a sword. Somehow, I was confused. I realized that I no longer held a place within normal 'craftian society. I wasn't sure what to do next. The moment already seems fuzzy.

I shake my head. "I'm not sure. I had trouble trying to wrap my head around the fact that I had transformed into a skeleton."

Dan squints his eyes, raising a hand up to his chin. "You seemed much more determined about what you were going to do at the time, much more than you claim now. I was getting the impression that you were trying to avoid me. It appeared almost as if you were trying to run away."

I see, in my memory's eye, the limp body of the fallen guard. Somehow I associate his death with a strange, distant feeling... a feeling that, at that moment, seemed tantalizingly close. I remember walking away from the body. I wasn't exactly scared, but I felt the need to travel somewhere. Exactly where? I'm not sure.

I nod at Dan. "You're right. I was trying to run away. I'm not exactly sure why, but I was."

Dan gives a faint nod of approval. "I thought so. That doesn't answer my other concern, though: why were you trying to avoid me?"

I recall the sight of the dead grass plain, and the sound of rapid footsteps crackling upon it behind me. I remember turning around and seeing Dan running towards me. I remember being irritated by his presence... but why?

"I don't know. For some reason, I was angry that you were there. I wanted you to leave me alone, but I'm not sure why I suddenly felt that way."

Dan slowly pours a strange powder from the pouches into one of the vials. It glows bright crimson as it silently flows out, before disappearing into the transparent water. He eyes the powder carefully, before tilting up the pouch in preparation for another pour.

"Did you want to kill me?" he asks in a plain, objective tone.

"No, I didn't want to kill you. I just wanted you gone...at least, I hope that was the case."

A spurt of worry and guilt taps within me. I realize, too late, that it sounds like I actually wanted to kill him, just phrased differently. I try to explain my intentions more clearly.

"I can't imagine killing you."

Dan places the now empty pouch down onto the table. He lifts up the other pouch to the neck of the third vial, and begins to gingerly pour again. "I feel like you're withholding information from me... yet at the same time, you seem too openly clear, too sincere."

I nod slowly in agreement, trying to stay calm. Even just a suspicious facial expression could make me look worse. I really hope he trusts me.

Dan places the second pouch onto the table. He walks around the right side of the table, pulls a chair out from underneath it, and sits next to me. He is no more than a meter away.

Dan crosses his fingers neatly upon his lap. "Are you still nervous?"

I shake my head. The fear of death has subsided. The leeching fatigue of the enchanted armor, however, still remains.

"Can I see the book for a moment?"

I nod, reaching into my back pocket... but feel nothing in it. It feels so confusing and unexpected for the book to not be there... almost unnatural. At the same time, I feel an overwhelming sense of relief. And on top of all these feelings, there is a sudden sense of nervousness, pressed upon me by the draining magic of the armor. I despise this sense of nervousness; it reminds me of the consciousness of the book which tried to invade me. I try to ignore it, repress it, control it.

"Fristad? Fristad!" Dan's hand waves close to my face. "Can you hear what I'm saying?"

I focus on my vision, returning my attention to my surroundings. I nod at Dan.

"I asked if you could give me the book."

"Right. I would but... for some reason, I don't have it."

"Where is it, then?" Dan's brow furrows in suspicion.

"I'm sorry, but... I really don't know. I always keep it in my back pocket. Even when I set it down somewhere, it always appears in my back pocket again."

"And yet you don't have it with you right now, all of a sudden?" Dan glares at me, his eyes in a tight squint. After a moment's thought, his gaze drops, his eyes widening. "... but that doesn't make any sense, if the book really wanted to control you, then..."

"Perhaps it was trying to avoid your questioning?" I offer.

"Or perhaps..." Dan pauses for a moment. "... perhaps it confirms my suspicion that the book is indeed sentient."

"Sentient? As in... what? Self-aware?"

"Self-aware, yes. But it is a little more than that." Dan stands up and walks toward the shelves again. He reaches for two shallow wooden bowls. "It involves a certain form of mental connection to magic. Some spells work differently on sentient creatures than non-sentient ones, in the same way that some spells work differently on living things than inanimate objects." He sets down the two bowls on the table, then turns around toward the shelves again. "The ward protecting this room only works on sentient beings, and it seems that the book has been driven out by it." He collects some jars and pouches from the shelves and brings them back to the table. "That would only happen if the book was sentient."

I mull his words over for a bit. "But how do you know that the book was driven out? Perhaps something happened to the book since I last spoke with it." I feel the nervousness pressed upon me by the armor grow stronger, more difficult to ignore. The nervousness instills within me a strange longing, a parasite burrowing itself deeper into my mind. I despise it. I want it gone. "I can't help shake the feeling that the book is still able to control me somehow. I feel a power coming from the armor. It is almost as if the book exists within the armor itself."

Dan pauses from grinding material in a bowl with a pestle. "That complicates things..." He takes some powder from another jar, and pours a little bit into the bowl. "I'm still inclined to believe that the book is sentient, but I'm not sure what to make of the armor. Perhaps it is tied to the transformation..."

I nod. "I suspected the same."

Dan begins to pour a viscous, purple, slime-like substance from a jar into the other bowl. He begins to grind it with the pestle. "What does the power from the armor feel like?"

"Well..." I cautiously reflect on the mental influence of the armor, avoiding thinking too deeply about it, for the fear that obsession over it would cause its power over me to strengthen. "It makes me feel nervous and tense... not exactly afraid, though, like the ward made me feel. It feels almost like a parasite, feeding on my awareness. It's almost the same as the book made me feel... except the book made me feel a variety of other emotions as well."

"Interesting..." Dan picks up the two bowls and walks around the table. He holds the two bowls out in front of me. "I have a favor to ask of you. Please place one hand in each of the two bowls. Make sure your fingers are submerged in the powder."

I am confused for a moment, but I recognize that it's probably necessary in order for Dan to help me. I press my fingers into the powder of the two bowls. My right hand begins to tingle, then a strange burning sensation begins to pulse through it. "Ow!" I pull my hand out of the powder in pain. I glance at Dan. "Why'd you have to do that?!"

"Just a test." Dan pulls the two bowls away. "It actually gives me more reason to trust you."

I clasp and relax my hand, trying to get rid of the burning sensation. "I never thought skeletons could feel pain..."

"They can, indeed..." Dan grabs a few more pouches off the shelves. "...although the undead do tend to be affected by magic somewhat differently, which is why that test is useful." He begins to mix in more powders into the bowl which didn't make me feel pain. He then brings the bowl over to my side of the table. "I want you to put your fingers into the bowl again. Use your left hand this time. And don't worry; it won't hurt you."

I hesitantly place my left hand into the bowl and wait for a moment. I lose feeling within them, and they become immobile within the powder.

"What does it feel like?" asks Dan.

"It makes my fingers feel numb." I reply.

"I see..." He takes the bowl out from underneath my fingers. They remain stiff and numb, hanging from my bony wrist like a stiff sculpture.

Dan pours some of the powder from the bowl into each of the three vials on the brewing stand. Then he opens up a small pouch, and pours a small amount of grey powder into each one. The orange rod begins to glow, as black smoke materializes above the vials.

"What are those potions for?" I ask.

"They're for helping you sleep."

The nervousness impressed upon me by the armor grows in strength. The parasite within my mind pierces a barrier, beginning to chew at my willpower. I feel my perception of the foreign emotion turning; I feel the desire to accept it as my own. My ability to perceive its existence blurs; a growing desire within me urges me to leave the room immediately. Nervousness turns to fear. Dan is trying paralyze me. What if Dan tries to imprison me? What if Dan makes me drink that potion, and I never wake up? I have to escape.

I sprint from my chair onto the stairs, pushing myself up the steps as fast as my ebony legs will let me. I think I hear Dan yelling behind me, but I don't waste time trying to interpret what he says. I focus on continuing to ascend the steps.

Something bangs against my head. I hear the tinkling sound of breaking glass. A numbness spreads down my neck and towards my legs, making them stiffen. I fall forward onto the steps, but am unable to move. Blindness fades my sight to darkness. A fog of tiredness envelopes my mind, descending me into a deep sleep.

And within the ether of a waking dream, I hear a voice, soothing as spider silk. The voice fills me with happy but indescribable memories of a long lost friend. It is the Book.

"We meet again, at last..."