CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Eric's Passing

Eric turned and took one last look at his friends. His gaze fell on Diana and lingered there. Had they really just shared a Realm-shattering kiss? Yes, they had, and it was a kiss that said so much: I love you, Diana; I'm sorry, Diana; Goodbye, Diana. It was the best kiss of his life and, for whatever it meant, it was a kiss he would cherish for the rest of his life.

Not that he'd kissed many girls in his life. There had been that red-haired girl in seventh grade who'd had a crush on him. Everyone had known about it. What was her name? Carla? Carmen? He couldn't remember. She'd changed schools after the first semester. He had kissed her on a dare . . . and she had followed him around for weeks afterward. And then there was Melissa in eighth grade � the blonde Melissa, not the brunette. He'd kissed her, with tongue and all, more than a few times. She had seemed so into him . . . until he'd found that letter to one of her girlfriends in which she'd admitted she only liked him because he was rich. He remembered that Presto had tried to warn him about her. Yeah, he remembered now. . . . It was when he and Presto were sitting in that coffee house, eating the best blueberry and cream cheese croissants he'd ever tasted.

Oh God, my life is passing before my eyes!

The Thinker spoke. What did he say? "Time to die, Cavalier."?

Eric turned and faced his chosen fate, made his legs carry him forward into the dark wide crack of an opening. This is my choice. Selfless act, and all that, right? This has got to get me in good with The Good Guy upstairs. Ultimate sacrifice for the good of others. The good of the many, um, outweighs the good of the one. The good of the few or the one, that's it! I'll show you, you stupid, evil, ugly . . . Yeah, that's right! I know you're ugly! I know first hand, don't I?

Everything around him darkened, causing him to look wildly in all directions. Behind him, he discovered that what had been the opening to Death's Pass was now solid rock. He was blocked off from his friends, from Diana. He touched it to make sure it was real. Rock solid. Real. Or, at least, it was real for him, and that was all that mattered.

"You disobeyed me, Cavalier."

Eric jumped and turned to see Dungeon Master with the sternest look on his wrinkled face that he'd ever seen.

"Dungeon Master! You gotta help me! I don't really have to die, do I? I mean, I'll do anything! There's gotta be someth�"

"Foolish boy!"

Eric whirled around to see Venger's livid face and cried out in terrified surprise.

"You think to redeem yourself with your sacrifice? There is no redemption! Your death will only serve me," Venger roared.

Eric backed away from him and dove behind Dungeon Master. "D-Dungeon Master! Help! Do something!"

Dungeon Master turned and looked down at him. "You disobeyed me," he repeated.

"I didn't mean to! It just happened! It was an accident!"

It wasn't fair! he thought. Dungeon Master had told them that Evil would reveal its face before it attacked. It was reflex that had caused him to look up. Tell someone not to look, and what're they gonna do? They're gonna look! It's not my fault! You didn't tell us why we shouldn't look! But that simply wouldn't do. No one else had looked, had they? And so no one knew that he had. It was something he'd never been able to confess to them.

He had disobeyed Dungeon Master's order and found that he couldn't then take his eyes from those of whom Venger had called "He Whose Name Cannot Be Spoken." Venger wouldn't even speak the name! That's gotta say something!

Then the nightmares came. They were more than nightmares. Sometimes he awoke within a nightmare, floating in pure darkness, speaking words he didn't know, fighting to stop speaking them � whatever they were � and losing. The name of Evil. He knew he had heard it, but he could never recall it � not that he at all wanted to.

"All I can do for you I have already done," said Dungeon Master, and with that, he disappeared.

"No! Don't go! You can't leave me here! With him!"

"You're only salvation lies in surrender. Surrender, and let me be your guide in a new realm � a realm your child's mind could never fathom. Serve me, and live as you have never lived before!"

Without being given the opportunity to answer, Venger's wings flared out with a loud snap and just as quickly folded to enclose Eric. He was pitched into nothingness, tumbling forward, falling downward, thrown backward. His stomach lurched, and lurched again. He felt he was becoming sick with disorientation.

And then he opened his eyes and saw red. He jerked his head up and around, wondering how long he'd been asleep, or whatever this loss of time was that he felt. Every direction looked the same: rock ceiling, rock floor, rows upon rows of tapered pillars of rock, and an eerie light that cast a red glow all about. More, there was an incessant sound of faraway moaning and groaning, wailing and screaming, all mixed together so that one cry couldn't be distinguished from another. It was terrible to hear. And there was also a bad odor he couldn't identify. Like . . . no, he couldn't tell; he knew only that it stank.

Venger killed me. I'm dead and I'm in Hell! He remembered thinking once that he'd died and gone to Heaven. He had been relieved that it'd been quick and painless. He'd never felt that dead-on strike by the Guardian. But, in reality, he had only been transported to the Dungeon at the Heart of Dawn to be reunited with his friends after Dungeon Master's power had been restored there. It had been Venger who had burst his bubble of Heavenly expectations. This, though . . . this had to be Hell. It was hot and stuffy and stinky . . . and red.

Hmm . . . I don't feel any different. He looked at his gloved hands, ran them through his hair. He blinked and took a deep breath, and nearly gagged from the stench of the place.

He thought to call out, but he was sure he didn't want whatever might be lurking around to find him. Taking a few cautious steps forward, he looked around again. Now he saw something that had before been hidden from his view by one of the columns. Upon seeing it, he froze and went cold despite the oppressive air.

It was another statue, but there was nothing benevolent about this one. Though he was sure he had never seen it before, it was familiar in a nightmarish way. And there before it knelt Venger, bending low on one knee.

Eric felt the absence of his friends like he'd never felt it before. Lost and alone in this horrid place with its sickening smell and those terrible sounds and that evil statue and, maybe, a visit from the Force of Evil from time to time. . . . Was this all he had to look forward to, into eternity? Would he just exist as . . . whatever he now was forever, here?

It isn't fair! I don't deserve this! He'd wanted to shout it out loud, but didn't dare. What good would it do, anyway? He was here, and there was no going back, was there?

Eric stood there and just stared at Venger for a moment. The last thing he wanted to do was to get any closer to either that statue or to Venger, but Venger was the only other living thing here, as far as he could tell. Venger was the only one who could tell him what was going on. He decided he really had no choice. He even found that he feared Venger's leaving him there alone. At least Venger was someone he recognized. And since he was already dead � and already in Hell � what more could Venger do to him?

This wasn't the time to be timid. He walked the distance to Venger's kneeling form like he was about to give orders to his butler. When he reached him, he said, "So, this is Hell, huh? I thought it'd be a lot hotter. You know, hellfire and brimstone and all that?"

But Venger didn't move. Eric watched him and waited. Maybe he was finishing some kind of evil prayer or something, he thought. Another moment passed. "Uh, V-Venger?" Still Venger did not move. He was as still as the statue Eric now refused to look at.

Thinking himself crazy for doing it, he slowly reached a hand toward Venger and touched a folded wing. Nothing. He nudged his shoulder. The surface wasn't the right texture � too hard and smooth � but he looked entirely real. It was like pushing on a life-sized, finely detailed porcelain statue. His next thought was to try kicking him, but he decided that that might be going a little too far. He pushed again, harder this time. No movement at all. It didn't make any sense.

It seemed he was alone, after all. And was it his imagination, or was the moaning and groaning getting louder? It felt a bit hotter, too. He also had the feeling he was being watched. As wide open a place as this was, he was beginning to feel claustrophobic. His heart was racing. If I'm dead, why do I have a heartbeat? He pulled at his collar and turned back to Venger.

"Hey, get up! Cut it out already! Look at me! Say something! Look at me!" He didn't care anymore; he kicked him in the face as hard as he could. After striking Venger's hard, unmoving surface, he had to hop backwards to regain his balance. He waited for his foot to start hurting, but he felt no pain.

Breathing heavily, he put his hands on his hips and looked around in irritation as he wiped away the sweat on his brow. He had to do something. He couldn't just stand here with this fake Venger and this building-sized statue staring at him!

There was a sound of something thick dripping to the rock floor. Dreading what he may see, he slowly turned his head around and back down to Venger. The sound was definitely coming from him.

Eric crept forward and bent low. He inched his face closer to get a better look. He saw where his kick had cracked Venger's closed eyelid, which was now oozing a black, tar-like goo that ran down his face and had pooled in the skirt to overflowing before spilling in steady drips to the floor.

"What is this? What's going on around here?" Now, he did turn to the double-horned statue with its long robe or cape or whatever it was. "What did you do to him!"

Now from Venger came the sounds of scraping, like fingernails down a chalkboard. They were coming from inside him!

Eric backed away, trembling. And then, like a baby bird breaking its shell to get free, bits of the Venger-shell were being broken out from within. More goop oozed from the broken face. The head broke away and fell, shattering. The chest cracked apart, and then fingers emerged to grip the two halves of the chest and pull them away from each other.

Eric continued to back away, but he couldn't take his eyes from what was happening before him. Something was crawling, dragging itself out and away from the broken bits of Venger. It was naked, had small black wings and hair, and had pale blue skin. The whole of it was covered in the black sludge.

When it was free, it crouched and shivered. Eric stopped and saw that it now assumed the same posture of kneeling to the statue, just on the other side of Venger's broken "body." He went closer. The sludge was oozing away from the creature. He had a bad feeling about this.

Against all better judgment, he moved closer to it. The thing suddenly looked up at him. Eric couldn't believe his eyes. It was, unmistakably, a Venger-like double of himself! It looked up at him now and tilted its head with a curious and questioning expression. Eric saw the fangs and the red eyes. His mind was made up in an instant. There was only one answer to this: Kill it! He could not allow it to live!

He'd never killed anything before. He wondered how he would kill this thing. But then he remembered all the shards of Venger's remains, like blades of all sizes.

He cautiously approached his double. Just stay where you are . . . right there . . . don't move. He tried to act as innocently curious about it as it was acting toward him. What if it kills me first? But I'm already dead, right? Right? What if I'm not really dead? But I'm dead either way, right? D. M., I could really use your help right now!

Eric looked down at the broken pieces at his feet, as if only now noticing them. "Hey there. Y-You and I, um . . . we really look a lot alike." His double only looked at him with that same curious expression. Eric pointed at the mess between them. "Did you come out of there? Huh? Is that where you came from?" He knelt down to pretend to inspect the fragments. His look-alike came forward and crouched beside him to watch. It gave Eric the shivers to have him so close.

"You know," said Eric, reaching for the shard of horn that had broken away from Venger's head, "I knew the guy this horn came from. Yeah. And you know what?" Eric looked at the creature. The creature looked at him. Eric gripped the base of the horn. "You aren't him!" With all the speed and strength Eric could muster, he rammed the horn into the chest of his evil twin. It howled with a familiar reverberation.

Eric toppled on top of the creature as it fell backwards, wrapping its clawed hands around his neck as it went. He felt the claws cutting into his flesh; the fingers squeezed his throat. Using his weight and all his might, he pushed the piece of red horn through its chest until he felt it hit rock. An icy-hot pain was spreading through his own chest, and he felt what was surely blood running down his neck, but he couldn't think about such things right now.

Finally, the monster's grip lessened, and its arms fell away from him. It was dead. Eric coughed as he pushed himself upright. His closed his eyes as his vision blurred, tried to catch his breath from the ordeal, but he only coughed painfully. His chest. . . . He opened his eyes and looked down . . . at the horn protruding from himself. He touched the horn and coughed again, spraying blood from his mouth.

And then there was no Venger, and there was no Venger-like twin. He was alone . . . alone and dying. He fell backwards, his head landing turned toward the double-horned statue. He tried, but he couldn't turn away from it. It was the last thing he saw as. . . .