By Hank's estimate, it took well over two full hours to ride through the base of the mountain. At least, it felt as though it had. But he could see the way out now � a growing natural white light at the other end. What he didn't see was any sign of Eric. When he finally walked his horse out and into the light, he turned it around to wait for the others to emerge.

He glanced up at the white sky, eyes slowly adjusting after the relative darkness of the pass, and felt a chill. And then he thought himself privileged to be feeling anything at all.

Eric. . . .

Donnova soon exited, followed by Sheila, Bobby, Presto, and, finally, Diana.

He heard Sheila's voice, and then Presto's soft reply of: "Yeah, I wonder what happened to him."

Donnova walked her horse beside Hank's and looked out ahead into the distance. From the corner of his eye, he thought he saw her smiling. He furrowed his brow and glanced sidelong at her. She was smiling, damn her. But before anger could fill his heart, she said, "Why not ask him? There he is."

"What?" Diana nearly yelled.

Hank snapped his head around to see for himself. It was Eric! That distant sitting figure in gold, blue, and red, topped with the black of his hair. "I can't believe it. It really is Eric!"

"He's alive?" Sheila cried.

"What're we waitin' for?" Presto said.

That was all the encouragement they needed. In seconds, they were all galloping toward Eric. And in seconds, Eric obviously heard them. His head jerked around. He tried to rise, but staggered backwards and landed on his butt. Then he rose and watched their approach, apparently in shock. But Hank saw that something wasn't right. There was no gladness in his eyes. Only horror.

"No!" Eric shouted over the sounds of the horses. "No, no, no!"

"Eric!" Diana shouted as she nimbly leapt from her horse. "You're alive!" She hugged him tightly.

"No. . . ."

"Yeah, we thought you were a goner!" said Presto.

"Good to see ya again, Cavalier," said Hank, choosing to ignore the odd behavior and giving him a friendly slap on the back.

Eric jumped back and looked at them like they were crazy. "Wh-what's going on? What are you doing here? You can't be here!"

"We made it, Eric. All of us. This is Realm's Edge!" Sheila explained, smiling through tears of joy.

"What? No! It can't be! . . . I can't be alive!" Eric's eyes frantically searched the ground in thought. "He . . . he tricked me! Where is that stone-headed�" To Hank's amazement, Eric started crying. He went on, his voice afflicted with emotion. "It's not fair! I had it all fixed! Everything! The future, the past . . . !" He dropped to his knees and pounded the hard gray ground with both his fists. "And it was all a dream! I was dead and it was all worth it! I died for something! For something good! . . . I was OK with it!"

Everyone crowded around him, but Hank signaled them back. Eric looked like he needed space to breathe. They moved back to let Hank get closer and talk.

"Take it easy, Eric. Everything's OK. You're alive, and�"

"But I'm not supposed to be! Don't you get it!"

"You almost sound like you wish you were dead," said Hank.

To this, Eric said nothing. No one said anything. Eric looked at the ground and breathed heavily. Everyone else looked at Eric, who seemed to be calming down and coming to terms with reality. Whatever had happened to him in there, it must have been terrible, Hank realized.

Finally, Presto came forward with Eric's shield. He held it out to his best friend. "I'm glad you're alive," he said with a smile. "We all are, Eric."

Eric stared at it with what Hank clearly recognized as dread. But the Cavalier did finally take the shield, and then slowly affixed it to his shield arm, which promptly went limp at his side as though it now carried a terrible burden. "Let's . . . let's just go." He went and mounted the closest horse and immediately set off away from them. When the others didn't follow, he turned back to them. "I said, 'Let's go'!"

Hank looked around at the others and shrugged sympathetically. "Come on. We still have some ground to cover."

Hank's mind was wandering again, to nothing in particular. It was the monotony of the place. The sky was one even tone of off-white. Everything was drab and gray and lifeless and silent. Nothing moved. No winds blew. He felt as though he were riding through a bored artist's meaningless charcoal sketch � undetailed, unpeopled, and uncolored. And it was unnaturally cold � not a cold you physically felt, but the kind of cold you could feel somewhere deep in your mind. The kind that brings an inner chill to numb the core of your being.

He uselessly looked around again, hoping they were going in the right direction. It wasn't easy to keep his bearings with every direction looking the same. And there was a foggy mist in the air that limited visibility. He had long lost sight of the mountains behind them, but surely they wouldn't miss a tower standing in the middle of this, the middle of nothing.

"Keep your eyes open," Hank reminded everyone over his shoulder. "We should be able to see the tower soon."

He caught a glimpse of Diana and Eric, talking quietly at the rear. He hoped Eric wouldn't blow it with her, if they were going to have a relationship at all. But he couldn't think of them after he noticed Sheila and Donnova in deep conversation, too. What were those two always talking about? Probably more stories of their adventures. He wondered if Sheila had talked Presto and Bobby into sharing a horse just so that she could talk privately with Donnova as they rode.

He straightened in his saddle and thought only of Sheila. Why couldn't he do as Eric had done? How many times had he wanted to spontaneously grab Sheila and lock lips with her? He was happy for Eric and Diana. True, it had been quite a shock at first, but when he saw that Diana wasn't going to knock him to the other side of the realm, he was happy for them. He saw no problem with their getting together. Why couldn't he get passed seeing a relationship for himself as anything other than problem-causing?

I do it for them. I can't think about me. Not until we get home. But . . . what if we never get home? Am I supposed to be alone forever? What if Sheila finds someone else before I tell her how I really feel? Sir Lawrence was a close call.

He had been so afraid Sir Lawrence and Sheila were actually about to kiss. And why shouldn't they have? he thought. He was there to help her take care of Bobby when he was near death, and he selflessly shared all he had, did all he could. He also destroyed those two stalkers, saving all their lives. And then Sheila freed him from his curse with her teardrop. It was more like a storybook romance than all his time with her had ever been.

He suddenly felt it foolish to be thinking about such things at the end of their most crucial mission, but there was nothing else for them to do at the moment but look for the Empyreal Tower. And with seven pairs of eyes on the job, even with not all of them exactly alert, they had to find it. And so he fell right back into his thoughts.

The way he touched her. . . . As he remembered Sir Lawrence's delicately taking Sheila's chin in his hand, the handsome king became Venger, and the caring look in Sheila's eyes turned to horror as she cried out for Hank. He hated that memory. He had done nothing to help her. He was frozen in place. Little Bobby, however, had immediately stepped up, toe-to-toe with their greatest enemy.

He blacked that scene from his mind. Blocked it. But he could not forget Sir Lawrence.

Sir Lawrence and Sheila could have had their "happily ever after." Sometimes he felt guilty about her having turned the king down. He knew she would have made a wonderful queen. He felt that she might have done it because she knew deep down how he, Hank, felt for her.

But what if Sir Lawrence and Sheila had been meant to be together? What if Presto and Varla had been meant for each other? What if Diana and Eric were doomed because Diana was truly meant for Kosar, even in another life? What if Bobby and Terri were meant to be?

Hank made up his mind. If they got through this, whether they made it home or not, he swore to himself that revealing his true feelings to Sheila would be the first thing he'd do. He wanted her to know. He wanted to tell her so much. He wanted to hold her and kiss her and caress her. He wanted to lie with her. He'd dreamed of all these things. He simply hadn't been able to bring himself to tell her. But soon he would take her hands in his, look into her beautiful green eyes, and�

"Look, guys," Diana shouted. "Up ahead!"

They stopped their horses as they glimpsed a black edifice in the distance.

"Is that the Empyreal Tower?" Sheila asked, filled with awe.

"It's gotta be," said Hank.

"Any of you guys see the top of that thing?" Presto asked.

"Knowing this crazy world, it probably doesn't have one," Eric surmised.

"Enough talk!" Donnova said as she broke away into a gallop ahead of the others.

Hank wasn't about to let her take the lead this close to the end. "Let's go!" He set off after her, pushing his horse to catch her.

"Wait for us!" Diana called after them.

Like the mountains had been, the tower was farther away than it looked. But it gave Hank enough time to finally pass Donnova for the lead. As he approached, it seemed more like the tower itself grew larger rather than that they were getting closer.

Soon, they were all on their feet, cautiously approaching the tower. The only sounds were theirs; to be still meant perfect silence.

"No guards," Presto whispered.

"You don't need guards when the only way in is through a nightmare," Eric replied.

Hank easily heard their whispers in the still, eerie silence of Realm's Edge.

"You really think we'll make it home this time?" Diana asked.

"There's only one way to find out," said Hank. "C'mon."

Hank led the way, but saw no apparent way inside. "We'll have to go around. There must be a door somewhere on the other side."

He looked carefully for some way in as they walked the perimeter, but saw nothing. He willed some way inside to make itself known. Eventually, they were back where they started.

"Just great! We've been all the way around this thing and there's no door or window or anything!" said Eric, sounding much like his old self.

Donnova was studying the black surface. "It doesn't feel like stone."

Hank went to feel the outer wall for himself, as did everyone else. "No . . . it doesn't."

"What is it?" asked Sheila.

"I dunno."

"I don't care what it is." Eric turned to Bobby. "Hey, you wanna get over here and make us a way in already?"

Bobby hefted his club with determination in his eyes. "Yeah . . . I sure do." Hank heard a hardness in the young voice that he'd never thought to hear from any child. "Stand back," he warned and lifted his club, ready as ever to smash something to bits.

"Careful, Bobby," Sheila warned.

As they grouped behind the Barbarian and moved back, Hank saw the boy's tight grip and said, "Bobby, we only need a hole big enough to walk through. Okay, buddy?" Hank read the series of expressions that crossed Bobby's face. He was sure Bobby had been about to let loose with all the destructive power he could muster. Now the boy seemed more aware of himself and readjusted his grip on his club.

"Right," said Bobby so quietly that in any other setting Hank wouldn't have heard him. He raised the club over his head, brought it down with a force that was more than a whack, but less than a bash.

But the expected did not happen. The club didn't break the wall, and it didn't bounce off, either. It stopped against the tower, soundlessly, abruptly, as though sticking to tar. Swirls and undulations radiated out from where the club made contact. And there was a sound like a small hiss that made Hank's skin crawl and all the hairs on the back of his neck and down his spine stand on end.

"Bobby, get away from there!" Hank warned, readying the bow.

Bobby jumped back, and then Sheila pulled him even farther away. "I'm all right, sis. Leggo."

"Now did you really expect that to work?" Eric snidely asked, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes.

Ignoring the fact that Eric had been the one to suggest forced entry in the first place, he set his mind to what they might try next. "Must have some kind of magical protection."

"Ya think?" Eric again.

Don't say anything. Just ignore him, he told himself and turned his attention back to the mystery of the tower. He wondered what it was made of as he scanned it up and down.

Then he saw it. He saw it, but he couldn't bring himself to speak of it. He was sick of delivering bad news. He was sick of bad news, period. So he stared at it, dreading the implications, hating the being it summoned to invade his mind once more. And then he knew Donnova was looking at him, and then from him to the curved depression in the tower that went from a flat base to end in a sharp point.

She looked back at him, saying nothing, but he sensed she understood. He sighed and looked away. Everyone was now looking up. He didn't have to say anything.

Sheila gasped.

"Oh, great. Just fucking great," said Eric.

"Eric!" Diana snapped.

"Sorry," he spat back. "Sorry," he repeated more gently this time.

Presto stepped closer, squinting up at the shape. "If that's what it looks like, we'll never get inside!"

"We'll get inside," Donnova said. Hank couldn't fathom where she found the confidence he heard in her voice. It was likely misplaced.

Eric, obviously, was not impressed. "What are ya gonna do? Call Venger on the phone and ask him to come over here and unlock this tower for us? Are we supposed to knock on his door and ask to borrow his horn? Let's face it, we came all this way for nothing!"

"No! We need that key, and so we will have it! I'll go and take it from Venger myself!" Donnova said.

He shared the feeling, but knew she was letting her anger speak for her. "You can't do it alone, Donnova. None of us could. It's too dangerous," Hank said miserably. "I doubt we could pull that off even if his entire Orc army and Shadow Demon were on our side."

"Why would the Dungeon Master send us here if we had no way inside? We've come too far, and we all want to go home. I'd say it's worth the danger. Any danger!"

Hank looked away, undecided. He knew she was looking at him, waiting for a rebuttal from him, but what could he say? She had a point. They couldn't do nothing. Why couldn't Dungeon Master have told them about this? he thought. But then he answered his own question: They never would have made it here if they'd gotten it first. Venger would have known where they were going, what they were doing. Unless they killed him to take it. . . . But he knew that wasn't the answer, either.

Donnova now turned to Presto. Her voice was low and austere. "Presto, I need a way to get to Venger's castle and back. I've heard you transported yourself to him once."

"Wait!" Sheila said before Presto could respond. "I'm going with you! I am the Thief, after all. So if there's anything to be stolen, well, that's my job."

"Just hold on a minute," Hank said, fearing if he didn't take control now, he may lose the leadership to Donnova, whom he now turned to face. "Do you even have a plan?"

She hesitated. "Not as such, no," she admitted, not meeting his eyes.

And this is why I'm the leader, he thought, making sure to keep his modicum of smugness in check. "No one's going anywhere unless we have a plan." Hank was now looking hard at their new member. "And I've got an idea."