"Fristad, wake up! Now is not the time to let your mind wander; we're running out of time."

I gasp for air as my lids swing open. I can feel the Book's desperate urgency pulling my muscles, begging me to get out of bed, but the weight of tiredness presses against me, tempting my weak body with the sweet ambrosia of perfect sleep. My lids close reflexively. I feel myself fading into the soft clouds of the mattress once again.

"Fristad, you do not need any more sleep. The tiredness you are feeling is from a sleeping potion. Do not give in to it."

A sleeping potion again? Are you serious?

I focus my willpower upon my arms, forcing them against the mattress and lifting myself forward until my feet land onto the solid floor beside the bed. My balance tilts as my vision is clouded with fog and colorful specks, forcing me to press my hand against the rough stone wall.

Finally the headrush passes its course, but the heavy tiredness remains. I turn right and see Jonas' cloaked head upon his pillow, lids closed, face calmed with deep sleep.

So Dan really did slip something into my drink. But what about Jonas? Is he alright?

"I do not know what Dan intends to do. However, if he has learned at all from our attempted escape the previous night, then we should expect our current escape to be much more difficult. You cannot let him see you. If he does, you must be prepared to run."

What about yesterday night, when he drew his sword, and my only choice was to talk? How do I expect to come out unscathed if he can chase after me with void magic and a diamond sword?

"I am done reasoning with that man. You need to get as far away from him as possible, and keep him blind to your presence until he assumes that you are dead and I am forgotten."

How do you expect that to happen? There's no telling how long Dan will keep looking for me. And besides, it would take years for Dan to assume that I'm dead.

Or maybe it wouldn't. I recall the obsidian frame of the great room with nervousness, and picture old textbook illustrations of flaming brimstone, mutilated humanoid pigs, and pale screaming hulks with dread. I would be far from the first to disappear into the Nether. I just hope I make it out of there alive.

"Remember that Dan is of greater concern to us. Now, we must hurry. Find your sword."

I walk around the bed and towards the bookshelf, where the floor is covered with haphazardly dropped bags and satchels, their leather surfaces cast in shadow by the slanted yellow light of glowstone. I spot my own personal satchel tucked within the left corner. There it is. I bend down and unstrap the buckle which holds the satchel shut, pull the mouth of the satchel apart, and lift the bag towards me. It feels way too light. I peer inside. There doesn't appear to be anything else in here besides clothes. I reach my hand in. I hope to feel something solid, but all I feel is fabric and leather.

I'm starting to feel worried. I don't know where my sword is. Come on, Fristad, retrace your steps.

I clench my brow as I try to remember when I last had my sword. I was packing my satchel when Jonas was at my door, and I know I had my sword then because I remember strapping it onto my waste. Where did it go then? I know I still had it when Jonas and I first got to Zomem, because I reached for it when I saw the creeper halfblood. But after that... I don't remember. How did it disappear all of a sudden? I must have dropped it somewhere.

Of course! My satchel has a side pocket. It must be in there. I reach my hand in, but to my disappointment, my fingers wrap around a wooden handle. It's just my axe. There's no way I could defend myself with that. It's not like I can go all Airlass on those Nether demons.

"You do not need the sword for self-defense. You just need something made of steel so that you can light the portal."

But how am I supposed to defend myself?

"Your armor will take effect and provide sufficient disguise. Would you please stop asking questions? Every moment spent speculating means Dan is more likely to find us. You must leave now."

You're right. We need to go.

I clench my fist around the axe's cylindrical wooden grip. Tensing my steps as I walk, I sidestep through the doorway of the bedroom and follow the hallway to the stairs. I gently but swiftly place a foot upon each successive step until I finally reach the floor of library shelves. I peer beyond the edge of the leftmost bookcase. Diffuse light glows across the floor. The hidden passageway is open. Should I go inside?

"You don't have a choice," the Book warns.

I walk towards the passageway, wary of the silence. Something about those five words causes me to fixate upon them. I know what they mean. I'm prolonging the inevitable. If I stay still, I'm waiting in vain while Dan is more likely to find me. Likewise, if I resist the Book's words, I fight in vain while the Book's influence continues to grow on me. However, there is something else about the words which intrigue me. Somehow it reminds me of the dreams that I've been having recently.

I'm at the bottom of the steps now, in the study room. I don't know where Dan is. I would rather not know.

I turn left and begin walking down the long passageway. My heart pumps faster. If there's any moment that Dan might notice me, it's during the half a minute that I'm walking down this passageway. I want so much to run, but I'm afraid that I will make too much noise. I just want this passageway to end.

Finally, the obsidian mouth of the great room appears from the right. Suddenly I feel irrationally nervous. I think the ward is starting to kick in. I'm still really tired, too. Jeez, Dan, why won't you give me a break?

I reach my right hand behind me and pull the flint out of my pocket. I kneel down in front of the obsidian frame and chafe my axe against the flint, creating a yellow spark. The spark falls upon the black rock, igniting more sparks, which dance and jitter erratically across the surface, like water in a hot pan, before dying off. Frustrated, I strike the flint again. Yet more yellow sparks flit across the obsidian before dying, just like my hopes of escape.

Dan would kill me if he saw me doing this. I have to get out of here. I can't do this anymore. If anything, I'm going to catch myself on fire.

The Book admonishes my words with anger and impatience. "Fristad, you are paranoid from the ward. You must not give up now. Strike the flint closer to the frame."

I want so badly to leave this awful place, but the Book's words keep me going. I lower the flint until my knuckles rest upon the ground. I strike the flint sideways with my axe. A yellow spark multiplies and becomes a yellow flame, which turns to white, which turns to silver, which turns to a dark violet. I step back. The flame spreads and expands, climbing up the walls and collapsing in on itself into a wobbling purple membrane.

I can't wait to leave this place. I step through. The world is now submerged in a purple fog, tipping from side to side, gradually tilting ever more so each time, until the upper floors of the obsidian room become a twisted mess of broken reality. The jerking motion gives me terrible nausea. Suddenly I am thrust forward into an empty space of a grainy blackness, which seems to condense a nervous, pent-up energy within my chest. The pull of space then takes a sharp right, and I feel now as if I am falling, until I find myself standing within another purple fog, surrounded by an oppressive heat. As I wait for the stretched realities to bend back into their original form and I step through the portal, I realize that this place is not the Nether that I have read about in books. I am in a room with stone brick walls, white tiled floor, and a stone ceiling. There are no windows of any kind. In front of me is a hallway leading into a red fog. There are no undead swine grunts or creepy demonic moans, only silence.

An unavoidable fear explodes inside of me, forcing me to run forward, heart pounding, breaths heavy, away from the portal, away from the ward. Then I feel a freezing chill. It begins at my toes and works its way upward, melding a rock-like stiffness into my joints. I feel the workings of my heart and my lungs turn silent, then finally the red fog of the Nether becomes a bright white light.