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Then it all clicks together. The smell of his grandmother’s cinnamon rolls; Jiron seeing the headless torso; finding a room right out of one of his campaigns. “It wasn’t real,” he says to him. “None of it was.”

“But…” he stammers and then looks down at the front of his shirt. The blood that had stained it from when he held Tinok is no longer there. “I held him in my arms,” he says as the hand holding the knife drops back to his side.

“I know,” James says laying a hand on his shoulder. “I found Dave. He told me you were an agent of the Empire and had handed him over to them at Ironhold.”

Jiron’s head comes up. “I did no such thing,” he asserts.

“Just as I did not send Tinok away,” he states with conviction.

“Then what happened?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Maybe this place is cursed in some way, turns people against each other.”

Jiron sheathes his knife. “I’m sorry,” he says. The rage which so threatened to consume him has now completely left him.

“So am I,” replies James with a sad grin. “What do you say we get out of here before anything else happens?”

“Yeah,” agrees Jiron. “Let’s get out of here.”

The light from the orb reveals that they are no longer in the room they landed in when they fell through the floor. This one is much smaller. A raised dais sits prominently in the center of the room, the room itself is only two feet wider than the dais. It’s what’s depicted upon the dais that concerns James.

“Jiron look,” he says as he draws Jiron’s attention to the symbol of three dots forming a triangle with lines running between them.

“That’s not good,” he says. “But why would they have a temple here in a place that’s cursed?”

James glances around the small room. A shudder runs through him from the cold that’s leeching the warmth from his body. “I’m not even sure we are in the same place.” Looking down at himself, he finds the front of his shirt no longer shows where the lightning bolt had struck him. He touches it to reassure himself it was never really there.

Turning back to Jiron he starts to say something when a small creature suddenly appears in the air behind Jiron’s left shoulder. “Jiron!” he whispers as he points to the creature hovering just beyond his shoulder. Barely a foot in height, the scaly creature is roughly man-like. Hunched over as if it’s carrying too much weight, it stares at them from its gnarled head with glowing red eyes.

When Jiron turns and sees the creature, he quickly takes two steps backward. “What is it?” he asks. The creature stays there but a moment before disappearing.

“I don’t know what that was,” replies James. “But we better get out of here fast.” A sense of foreboding comes over him and the room all of a sudden feels smaller.

“I’m with you there,” agrees Jiron. A single corridor extends away from the room. With knife in hand, he takes the lead. He doesn’t make it far before another of those creatures appears between them.

This time, the creature reacts animatedly and chitters at them before disappearing. Jiron glances back at James who shrugs. Turning back, he continues down the corridor.

James’ feeling of foreboding begins to grow into one of impending doom with every step he takes. Just then, the tingling that warns of magic being worked comes to him. Strong and powerful, the feeling is more intense than anything he’s ever felt before.

“Jiron,” he whispers urgently. “Magic!”

Stopping, Jiron glances back and sees the pallor of James’ face. “Close?” he asks.

“It has to be,” he replies.

Then Jiron’s eyes widen. “James!” he says pointing to his chest. “The medallion.”

Looking down, he sees light coming from his beneath his shirt. Pulling out the medallion, the Star upon it bursts into brilliant light.

A frigid wind sweeps down the corridor from further ahead bringing despair and sapping the will. James looks down the corridor to find a figure standing there. Suddenly, the air around them is filled with dozens of the tiny creatures. Chittering and shrieking, the creatures avoid close proximity to the light