His screams burned through me as the flame burned through him. Even in our world, fire does not sustain us when it dances over our undead flesh, yet here, the befouled inferno devoured him with fiendish ease. He perished then, yet immediately lunged back into my world, erupting from his own corpse in a flare of darkness; an explosion painted by colorblind artist, a spray of tar that fueled the flames.

Staggered through the curtain of fire, he passed into the dark chamber beyond. With greater caution, I leaped from shelter to the tempest of bullets, rolling thrice and coming up in a frenetic sprint that carried me across a bridge of planks, and into the stone building that loomed beyond.

"Something is wrong." Or'do murmured. "I feel not myself, my mind not my own."

"I know. The Darkness senses us, knows of us, despises us. It clouds our minds and hastens our hearts in a ploy that intoxicates as well as endangers."

Or'do nodded. "No more." He flared his Cinder, and in response, the Darkness swelled around us. He strode, burning away the shadows, and carrying us both to the gate of fog that lay countless leagues and even more countless foes beyond. No sooner had we emerged, than he was crumpling to the earth, kneeling heavily with hands folded atop his axe's pommel, and blood spilling over his lips.