Thrusting his hand into the keyhole, he felt for the tumblers. They were razor-sharp, cutting the sensitive pads of his fingertips, but he could not stop. The pain was unbearable, but at last he felt the lock give. Withdrawing his bloodied hand, he swung the door open and found himself in a long corridor.

“Alec!” His voice came out strangled, barely audible. He tried again but could only force out a hoarse whisper.

As he started down the corridor, however, he heard his name called from a great distance that had nothing to do with stone walls. The corridor was long, and at the far end stood Alec, facing away from him.

“Alec!” Seregil croaked, knowing there was no way that Alec would hear.

As he’d feared, Alec disappeared around a corner to the right. Seregil ran to the turning, only to find another equally long corridor and, once again, Alec with his back to him. He called out, but Alec disappeared again—to the left this time. It happened again and again, as if they were playing some strange and frustrating game not of Seregil’s choosing.

Rounding a final turn, he could see Alec crouched against the wall that dead-ended at the far end of the hallway. He had his face in his hands but Seregil knew him by his blond braid and his clothing. When his lover looked up, his once beautiful face was nothing but an empty-eyed skull. Suddenly a door opened behind him and Alec fell through it. The door disappeared as suddenly as it had come.

“No!” Seregil screamed. “Alec! Talí, come—”

“—back!”

The desperation in Seregil’s voice jolted Alec awake in time to catch something hard and blunt in the face. With a grunt of pain and surprise, he automatically reached out to fend off an attacker, but instead felt Seregil sitting bolt upright in bed, trembling and covered in cold sweat. His voice was ragged and eerie as he whispered over and over, “Come back! Please come back!”

“It’s all right, talí.” Alec gently pulled him back down, settling with Seregil’s head on his shoulder. It was too dark to see him, but Alec could feel his lover’s heart hammering against his ribs, and the clamminess of his skin. Seregil was no stranger to nightmares, but it had been ages since he’d had one like this. “What was it?”

“A bad one.”

“What about?”

“I—I can’t remember.”

“You talked in your sleep. You were begging someone to come back.”

“Really?” Seregil drew a shuddering breath. “I don’t know. I can’t remember anything except being terrified.”

“Maybe you will in the morning. How’s the headache?”

“Still bad.”

“I’ll get you something.” But when he tried to leave the bed, Seregil’s arms tightened around him.

“Please, stay.”

Alec pulled the sheet up to Seregil’s chin and rubbed his back, as he had so many nights after Nysander’s tragic death. It was a long time until he was certain Seregil was asleep.

The following morning they woke late. Seregil looked positively haggard.