Frustrated, Roland passed through the storage area like a flood broken through a dam. Tossing barrels and crates left and right, he vented his frustrations to the air.

“Damn you, Vale, you bastard spawn of hell! Come back here, coward!” he screamed as yet another crate splinted behind the force of a wrathful kick. Filled with rage, Roland finally exhausted himself and collapsed, breathing heavily, against the back wall. Motes of dust danced in a beam of silvery light that penetrated the sole window.

Regaining his composure at last, Roland took stock of his surroundings. His right hand brushed against something metallic and cold. He looked down at a box that had miraculously escaped his wrath intact, and the lock and chain that surrounded it.

Smiling, Roland removed his silver key and visualizing the castle, placed it into the lock.

Nothing happened.

His face flushed red with anger as he dimly recalled the words of Cain, uttered in the darkness ages ago: You too, huh? Don’t expect to get back this way.