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The whirling colors swirled in Ahab’s mind so long and fast that it took him a moment to realize he was standing on solid ground. And the ground looked unbelievably familiar. He was in his office, his den, his man-cave. Ahab’s first instinct was to bend down and kiss the carpet, but then reality set in. The castle couldn’t have so easily brought him back home. Why would it do that, with so little warning? Sure, a lot had happened without warning, but it didn’t seem right. Something in his gut said it wasn’t. He reached up to touch his shoulder, and there was no blood. The guard was in perfect condition and his arm was functioning like new. No, this was not right.

The hairs on the back of his neck tingled, and he slowly turned around, seeing what he had half-expected to see. There was no door leading out of his room. Come to think of it, there was only one door out of the original four — the one that led to his bedroom.

***

I walked slowly toward the door, an overwhelming sense of dread creeping up on me, starting at my feet and seeping into my mind, filling it with unimaginable horrors. My clammy hand trembled as I put it on the cold and shiny knob. I forced my brain to stay open even as I opened the door.

There was the large dark-wood dresser with the mirror and the fresh bouquet of flowers. There were the deep paintings on the walls of Rondona’s flowered fields; the lush, richly colored and patterned rug under my booted feet; and the four-poster king-sized bed with the thick comforter. And on the far side of the room, the widow lounge with the plush pillows. The brilliantly clear glass looked out on the castle courtyard, the city of Auboron, and the fields beyond rimmed by the mountains.

And on that window seat lay the most beautiful woman in the world.

And she was dead.

Blood pooled on the floor, still seeping through her snowy-white gown. My muscles quiver and my mouth opens and closes without saying a thing. My mind is blank and only after a moment do I realize reality. I walk over to her body, and stare into her face. It is one of horror and fear. I tremble as I brush aside her dark hair from her face and see the empty eyes.

No. 

But, vaguely, I know what I must do. I kneel in the pool of blood. I pick up her limp, white hand, and kiss it. “You will be revenged, my love. Your blood will be avenged.” Then I stand and take out my sword and smear it in the blood till the blade drips and gleams crimson red in the waning light from the window as even the sun seems to mock me. I take several deep breaths and fight the rising in my throat as the reality sinks in that she’s gone. Somewhere in the back of my mind, however, something says it is just a game, a trick of the castle. But my body is fooled and I am filled with rage as I turn towards the door and sigh as I reverently shut it. That room is sacred. That body is sacred. And the one who killed her is cursed.

There are still no other doors in the den, and the one I just came through disappears. But I know what I must do.

“SAULUS! YOU. WILL. PAY!!”

I am ready and even if he kills me, my blood is linked to Jezebel’s and its what I must do. I do not bother to think of how he could enter the room because of the lack of entrances. I just know he will. He will come because he knows that he must pay.

And he does.

Suddenly, Saulus is standing in front of the fireplace, he black beard coursing down his chest and covering the plated silver armor. His helm of horns casts erie shadows on the walls, and his black eyes narrow as he sees me. Saulus is six inches taller and I don’t know how much wider, but he’s goin’ down. He’s gonna pay. He’s gonna die DIE. The torches flicker and the candles seem to dim. My face turns red and I start to sweat — not of fear, but of anger. Saulus’s voice is a rumble as I hear his sword scrape out of its sheath.

“Ahab. You’re a fool’s father.”

“You are the fool.”

I lunge forward and he parries my blow. We both plant our feet as our blades clash and ring in my ears. I lose ground first and duck as the sword whistles and slices the air above my head; then Saulus whirls around and blocks as I dive for his side. I grip the hilt in both hands and the steel clashes on steel with the ringing of a heavy hammer on a symbol. And I don’t even know it but the tears are pouring down my face and running down my neck.

She’s gone, and it’s all my fault. I wasn’t there. 

I scream a scream of pain and anger and confusion: and when Saulus falters I plunge my blood-stained-blade into his stomach. His eyes widen as I draw my sword back and I watch a dark patch start to grow in his armor. My breaths come short and labored. Saulus’s don’t come at all. But even as I watch him stumble backwards, he lunges forward again before I can react. His hand grasps me by my neck and he has pushed me up against the fireplace, putting his entire weight upon me. At least I can take comfort in the fact that he knows he can’t take his chances with me. But not for long.

He should have been dead. He should have collapsed to the floor. But instead, he laughs. And I know it was a trick. The castle kept him alive. The tears streaming down my face are of anger and hatred: all my malice was fired at the man who killed my last give at compassion. The last time I let myself be fooled by love. The last person I could confide in and comfort and cherish.

I had my hands on his arms and was straining to move. My throat was closing and I was gasping for air. His face was in mine and I could see the madness wheeling in his eyes and smell the foul breath. I clenched my teeth as he put on more pressure and although I thought I had no more tears left they were squeezed out as I lifted my chin under the strain, gulping for any breath at all. My arms dropped to my side and I fumbled about in my belt for the dagger. That dagger Jezebel gave me on our last anniversary. The one with the silver hilt and the dark blue gemstones.

Every movement took my every effort. I was slowing down, down, down. I gripped the dagger and with a last burst of energy buried it into Saulus’s side. I heard him gasp and I felt warm blood on my hand, but his grip only tightened as he reached for his sword.

I was near oblivion when I saw a shadow out of the corner of my eye. It spoke in a low and dangerous voice.

“Saulus. Let him be.”

The last I knew was of the foul and sour liqued being forced down my throat from a golden, shining goblet.