Flame turned cold in my veins, and I collapsed. My memories blurred, brief traces of striding through that labyrinth, of my blade lashing out, of foes crumpling with blood tracing a crescent fan from torn throat, or a black geyser from sundered chest. I stood before the portcullis without recalling how I had arrived.

"What point is there?" I rasped, resting my hands upon my trembling knees. "I'll never escape this place."

Your comrade needs you, Aleorn.

"I know!" Anger flared in my veins, yet quickly faded back into the frost of my dying flesh. "But how?" My voice broke, and I fell to my knees. "How?"

I do not know, Ashen One. She sounded as lost and desolate as I; her words hollowed by an aching, profound emptiness that jarred me. What I do know, Ashen One, is that whether you meant to or not, you have beckoned Darkness into the realms once more. Long has it lurked, long has it awaited this moment, the cataclysmic Return. If you do not succeed here, your comrade and all of creation, will fall.

I gritted my teeth, trembling and straining with muscles that quickly became bands of fire, hands of ice that clawed at my haggard body with furious, relentless abandon. Perhaps halfway, I rose, then I collapsed once more, my breath fleeing in an ashen gust.

"I haven't the strength." I gasped.

Then we are truly without hope.