Bridget woke up to the dank stench of mold as her mind tried to orient itself to the dark, tomb-like environment. The stars were twinkling their last beams of light for the night throwing shadows of gargoyles and goblins within her cell. Her eyes strained to focus and make out the real shadows from the true objects in the cell and panicked fully awake as she realized the shadow hovering over her left side was a real man. The figure held a knife which glinted evily in the moonlight as he scraped it brusquely across her forearm which he had pinned down forcefully to the cold stone underneath.

"Aieee!" Bridget screamed as the sharp pain shot up her arm as she tried to pry her hand loose from Prof. Taslim. "What are you doing?!" Her voice wavered in fright at this malignant act.

"Don’t move," Prof. Taslim said softly, commanding her to endure the pain he was inflicting. He watched fascinated as Sr. Mary’s red blood sweated neatly to the surface and began to ooze to the ground.

"Professor," Sr. Mary tried to keep the fear from re-entering her voice. "There’s no reason to hurt me. We may not agree on some matters, but that hardly calls for violence."

"Quiet!" Prof. Taslim said as he got up and released his prisoner. He wiped the blood off the knife off on the wall behind him. "I just wanted to see if we could be hurt in a dream and the good and bad news is we can. But, that also means we can hurt others as well."

Sr. Mary got to her feet unsure of his explanation. She grabbed her arm as it throbbed at his assault. Slowly edging her way as far as their black cord of union would allow her, she tried to figure out what her assailant had truly been thinking. It was unimaginable that such a well-bred man as Prof. Taslim would have such a sadistic streak in him. The thought caused a dull, sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She hated herself for the fear she knew she was obviously showing.

"Why not try it on yourself then?" Bridget said cautiously as she tried not to anger him further.

"Oh, I could have, " Prof. Taslim laughed cynically, "but your form wasn’t lucid yet so I thought it would hurt you less than me. Oh well!" Prof. Taslim said lightly, "I guess it kind of stung, huh?" His index finger tested the fine point of a knife large enough to saw her arm off.

Anger began to creep up into Sr. Mary’s being. He was enjoying the total control he had of her and this situation. She felt the humiliation of being unable to even voice her disapproval for fear he would find a more entertaining way to use the knife on her. She swallowed hard as she tried to control the hatred blooming black between them, seeping through the cord of union and resonating between them.

"Where did you get it?" Sr. Mary ignored his taunt. "You didn’t have that on you when we entered the second level."

"I dreamed it up!" Prof. Taslim said proudly. "I started thinking about what Mr. Bishop said about our dream themes and oddly enough, I thought I was karmically entitled to a weapon. You can’t be the victim all the time, you know what I mean?" ZK said pointedly as he looked up from his knife to smile a sinister smile at Sr. Mary’s cowering figure. This was the way she should be all the time, he told himself. She should have been more respectful of him as his wife in seventeenth century France. He would teach her during this dream how she should behave. And he would take great pleasure in forcing her to grovel at his every word, fearing an unnamed evil he would supposedly perpetrate on her.

Or maybe, Prof. Taslim decided, if they were doomed to this existence for a long time, he would tire of the teasing and instead humiliate her sexually for as long as it suited his appetites. That seemed a fitting reward for a woman who hadn’t minded sending him to the gallows for the fleeting pleasure of a sexual infatuation. He could betray her trust as easily as she had betrayed him, he thought. After all, it was a dream so it really wouldn’t be ‘rape’ so much as acting out a pleasant fantasy. The thought caused a hungry, lusty look to pass from Prof. Taslim to Sr. Mary. He looked unapologetically at her breasts as they heaved slightly as she obviously tried to control her sharp breathing which was revealing the depth of fright she was beginning to feel. She saw his gaze scanning her body in the early dawn and wanted desperately to be able to vanish back out of the dream. She felt exposed and molested as his gaze caressed her flesh unwillingly. Turning her back to him, she refused to meet his eyes.

"And," Prof. Taslim snapped out of his obsessed reverie, "I also thought we could use it to escape, by killing the guard."

"Killing!" Sr. Mary whirled around vehemently opposed to this plan of action. "As a doctor, I’ve been sworn to save lives not kill them. As a Maryknoll nun I am sworn to uphold the laws of God. Do you know how many people in intensive care I’ve treated and prayed for even when they were on the verge of death? Even euthanasia isn’t right! Killing is killing." She twisted the silver ring on her index finger, a 'P' crossed at the tail, the last vestige of her Maryknoll committment.

"Oh, come off it Sr. Mary Louise!" Prof. Taslim used her former title in mockery. "This is a dream. It isn’t killing! It’s solving a dream quandary!"

"If you try to devise a plan to kill the guard, I will warn him." Sr. Mary said adamantly, knowing her choices were looking very bleak indeed. Her Christian conscience would not allow her to let even a dream killing to take place with her consent even if it meant she would be imprisoned at the mercy of Prof. Taslim’s sadistic whims. "If we decide killing is all right because it is a dream, who knows what other deviltry we will succumb to." As the statement fell from her lips, she regretted her haste in explaining the situation. It was obvious to her that Prof. Taslim had already thought out more than one scenario that involved violence and sin.

"Fine," Prof. Taslim said putting the knife away under some straw and sitting next to it. "I won’t tell you when I plan to use it. Just try to be a little more congenial to me, Bridget, or I might end up doing something I’ll regret, being all cooped up and so. It kind of makes me cranky."

After silently refusing the insinuation in his statement, Sr. Mary wondered about the knife. "Instead of trying the knife out on a person, did you ever think to try it out on the cord?"

"Of course," Prof. Taslim lied. "But, it looks like we are linked together unseparably. I hope you can get used to me, " Prof. Taslim baited Bridget again. "Even with all your commandeering ways, I kind of like the feminine company."

Sr. Mary didn’t have a moment to react to his lewd tone before the guard’s keys were heard jangling against their heavy, cell door. As one guard walked in with their bowls of cooked grained cereal, another guard with a sword kept them under his scrutiny.

As the Indian guard approached in his black uniform, he took the first bowl to Sr. Mary and handed it to her. As her eyes met his, a flash of recognition echoed intuitively through her mind. He was young, in comparison to the older guard who stood back at a safe distance. His face and sympathetic look revealed an idealism that regarded his job and their conditions in distaste. Sr. Mary’s hand went up sharply to her throat as she realized where she had seen him before. He had been the man urging her to leave Prof. Taslim’s execution in seventeenth century France.

"Don’t be afraid," the guard said compassionately noticing Sr. Mary’s distress. "You won’t be hurt. It isn’t fitting for a woman to be held captive with a man. Tell us the secret of the bonds between you and I will have them removed and you can be placed safely in a different cell."

At the concern in the guards voice, Sr. Mary’s faith in humanity flickered back in a wavering hope. "I don’t know, sir. I would like to leave this cell as well, but I don’t know what mystery holds us bound together."

The guard turned to give Prof. Taslim his breakfast. "You shall not hurt the woman." He instructed Prof. Taslim seriously, sensing the discord between them. "We will deal with you severely if this common modesty is not upheld."

Standing up and sneering sardonically, Prof. Taslim defied the boy’s order."She is my wife," he lied, "as such, my property. That is the law."

"He lies!" Sr. Mary flung the bowl at Prof. Taslim’s obstinate figure.

The guard with the sword moved forward and pulled the younger guard out of the cell.

"Leave them alone, Hassim" the older guard said wisely. "Whatever goes on between them is their own affair. We are merely to keep them alive."

But Hassim had felt the connection between Bridget and himself. He would come back again, alone this time to keep an eye on both of them, he promised himself. If she was truly the man’s wife, he decided, she was not thrilled about the situation. Looking at her finely cut features and flushed cheeks and lips had stirred a longing in Hassim’s heart. But he would not take her against her will, as some other guards were known to do. He had an aversion to the callous lack of human dignity afforded to women and orphans like himself. Orphans who had had to make their way through life using their bodily charms to please the woman who could afford them. He had hated the controlling, degrading life-style his fate had dealt him and had been relieved when he had been shunted off to the palace prisons to work his way as a guard through the remainder of his life, a favor from the last mistress who had kept him.

He had not betrayed her kindness. She had shown him a love he hadn’t deserved. And despite all the other women he had served, her act alone had inspired him to a greater faithfulness and kindness. He had kept his post faithfully for several years now, even after his mistress had died poisoned most likely by one of the palace courtesans.

Yes, he would not subject another to the same sexually controlling games he had been forced to take part in. And he would protect her as his last mistress had protected him. With these thoughts drifting through his conscious, his subconscious was relieved his karma was nearly worked out. The two guards moved on to the rest of the prisoners. They were off to Jasmine’s cell where the Prince had requested her company for breakfast. They had already left the meal in Ed and Cynthia’s cell, interrupting a conversation that Hassim was sure had started in the early hours of the morning.

Ed’s consciousness had shifted to the Tower of Dreams somewhere along its nightly sojourns. It fell into the double of his earthly form in time for him to open his eyes and see Cynthia staring thoughtfully at him from a crouching position on the gray stone floor. He peered into the warm, sensuous fire of her eyes and instantly knew that she was remembering.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" Cynthia finally asked putting the full guilt of the episode between them on his side.

Ed felt his dream body grow warm at the memory. The love he felt for her burbled softly up through his feet, torso and body hitting his heart which burst the sensation unavoidably in Cynthia’s direction. She closed her eyes as the waves of love and lust intermingled in her consciousness. When he threw her his energy in an ocean tide of orgasmic vibrations she could do nothing but float in harmony with it. Her goal seemed insignificant with the power of this man’s love. But the thought swiftly shocked her back to her purpose and as she closed herself off from his feelings the black flecks reappeared in the cord between them.

"Well?" She asked as if to imply that he had most certainly taken advantage of her lack of memory.

"We need to talk," Ed sighed as he shifted his body from a lying position to one seated directly next to Cynthia on the cold prison floor.

"Yes," Cynthia agreed as she sat lotus-style next to him, her body so close to his that she could feel his body heat pressing against her.

Ed talked of their past lives together. The morning sun rose into the damp cell past the gap of a window high above their heads. The chill of the dawn was slowly being replaced by the warmth of midmorning. The spell of humanity intermixed with a new more nauseous scent of breakfast being served in other cells. When their turn came they each took the bowls presented to them but neither touched the contents. They put them aside as Ed discoursed on the meaning of karma, the links, their relationship and how it had evolved over the centuries. Cynthia did not interrupt. She felt the impatience grow inside of her as Ed tried to make her understand that even though she could not remember the love they had once shared that she could still feel it.

"What good is sensing something without the facts to bear it out?" Cynthia finally demanded. "When do I get a look at these past lives you keep saying we’ve shared?"

"You have to reach the third level to break open the seal," Ed said mysteriously unwilling to divulge anything further.

Cynthia didn’t know whether her hate was wasted on such a self-deluded man. The cord between them darkened perceptibly as Ed continued to talk and he did not fail to notice it. It was possible, Ed thought, that in divulging some of the positive lives he could remember between them that it also might trigger a sensing of a negative one as well. And it was this negative one they were now playing out. But in what fashion and how, Ed didn’t know or remember. He had to wait and see.

"Even if we did have a past love affair," Cynthia reasoned with the possibilities as he portrayed them, "that doesn’t mean you have a right to zap me into a love fest any time you feel like it!"

"I assure you," Ed said somewhat surprised she was consciously voicing his exchange of energy with her, "if you had not given me the go-ahead, I would have respected your privacy."

"What about just now?" Cynthia demanded only too aware that every time he flushed her full of emotions that her resolve failed her momentarily. "That’s a sneaky little trick you have up your sleeve, magician. How do you do it?"

"Cynthia, you wouldn’t feel anything unusual if you weren’t open to the experience." Ed picked his words carefully but the grin on his face belied an absolute sense of delight at her words. "You know how to shut me out if you want to."

Cynthia stared stubbornly at the man in front of her. Ed was attractive even for an older man. Damn attractive, Cynthia thought as she tried to remind herself what her true intentions were. To betray him, she needed his trust she reminded herself. Then maybe she would find out the secret behind the emotional dousing she was getting. Two could play at this game. "Maybe," Cynthia paused for her words to take effect on Ed, "I don’t want to shut you out anymore."

"I don’t want you to either," Ed said as he leaned over and as his lips approached hers he sent her a waterfall of desire that caused her to orgasm just before their lips met. Cynthia’s mind swept over with the tumbling water, her resistance drowning in the gentle whirl pool at the bottom. She did not object when he undressed her magically as they prepared to dip themselves in the pool of his emotions.

"Teach me how to love you back properly," Cynthia pleaded as she tried to hold on to the last thought of her goal. "Show me how to please you the way you please me."
"That’s what I’m here for, love," Ed said as he continued kissing the nape of her neck on down to the tips of her breast. "I’m your teacher. So just lay back and enjoy the lesson."

In this one command Cynthia did not desire to rebel. She let him take her to heights of sexual ecstasy that even she didn’t dare dream were possible. Sr. Mary leaned closer to the prison wall trying to overhear Ed’s talk with Cynthia. The man was a pig, she thought darkly. It wasn’t enough he’d tricked her while she was a nun into forgetting her vow of chastity but now he was seducing her sister as well. Prof. Taslim heard the undisguised sounds of lust emanating from Ed’s cell as well. He looked over at Sr. Mary judiciously.

"She’s your sister isn’t she?" He asked maliciously as he pretended to clean the tips of his fingernails with the now retrieved knife.

"He’s a pig - like you!" Sr. Mary’s venom shot out at the physicist unrestrained. Her hand went to her mouth in horror: "Oh! Forgive me, I know not what I say."

Prof. Taslim flipped her verbal poison from his shirt along with the fleck of dirt that had come from underneath his nail with the dangerously sharp knife. "She seems to be enjoying it," he grinned wickedly at Sr. Mary. "Are you sure you two are sisters?"

Sr. Mary ignored Prof. Taslim as she edged herself farther away from him. His mind had shifted so much during the last few hours she didn’t dare push him too far. He had sat with the knife continuously cleaning it, holding it up to the stray light beam that shot through the prison bars and intently watching it gleam its sharpness for him. On occasion he would look at Sr. Mary in the same lewd fashion he had reserved for her since the night before. Each time Sr. Mary would cringe inwardly wondering when Prof. Taslim would finally break out of his reverie into some undesired action. Something had changed within Prof. Taslim from the night before, but Sr. Mary didn't understand it. He had been arrogant, yes, she had sensed that. He had enjoyed belittling her but she had not felt this underlying malice that was now displaying itself. She wondered about the change in Prof. Taslim but had no way of knowing what had actually occurred whilst her form remained inactive in the dream. Only Prof. Taslim knew about the visitor who had looked upon him in the grime of his cell and seen someone superior to the others. It was to Prof. Taslim that Manu, a dispossessed spirit, had come. Prof. Taslim had seen the value of the partnership right away - knowledge of this new world beyond anything he could obtain alone. That and the opportunity to exhert his authority over all of the people who had hurt him in his life. They would cringe when they realized he was a force to be reckoned with. In exchange Prof. Taslim had subleased living quarters within his own mental space. Manu's arguments had been crude and witless, Prof. Taslim, had noted to himself when they had talked in the dark early morning hours. It would not be a difficult thing to keep him under control, Prof. Taslim had realized, so he had conceded to the partnership. It was with Manu's presence that he had begun to realize their union had brought Manu's powers into more physical forms, such as the knife.

Prof. Taslim leaned over to the opposite wall and pretended to listen for Jasmine and Yassov in the cell to the left of them. "I think they’re doing the same thing." He lied, jerking his head in the direction of their cell in a knowing way.

"That’s their business," Sr. Mary said primly.

"Hmmm." Prof. Taslim nodded almost as if in agreement. "You know, if you give yourself to me willingly it won’t hurt as much."

His casual comment hit Sr. Mary like a blow to her face. She jerked herself as far as the cord would allow her. "Surely, you can’t be serious!"

"A man has urges," Prof. Taslim said lamely. "How do you expect me to sit in this cell day after day listening to our cell mates enjoy themselves while I have nothing but this knife to play with?"

The implication of the knife was obvious to Sr. Mary. She watched as he cruelly twisted the point into the crevice under his fingernail. He eyed her feeling her fear sweep up inside of him making him feel powerful. It was a feeling he relished. He let the twisted smile creep across his face as he stripped her naked in his mind. To his amazement the shoulder of her Sari tore, rendering a hole the size of a fist for both of them to stare at. Glee swiftly replaced astonishment as he tried another thought and the Sari became the pink tight dress Sr. Mary had decided against previously.

"How did you do that?!" Sr. Mary asked her fear giving way to panic. "If you’re this powerful don’t waste your time on me! Get us out of here!"

The sense of her plea stopped him suddenly as he turned his attention to the prison door. After several minutes of concentrating by imagining a hole where the door had been, he fell back sharply. His hand went flying to his head as the knife fell loudly to the floor. As Sr. Mary watched in horror, Prof. Taslim finally lifted his head, his moaning stopped as the pain subsided. A third eyelid peeled back to reveal a contrasting black irisless eye in the center of Prof. Taslim’s forehead.

"It’s the evil eye!" Sr. Mary shrieked as she cowered in the far corner away from the monster in front of her.

Jasmine’s knees ached as she tried to sit graciously on the glossy red pillows next to Prince Akbar. She had been there since breakfast time when Jasmine and Yassov had been escorted to the Prince’s eating area where they had feasted on ripe mangos, bananas, pineapple and yogurt. The prince had eaten with them in a stony silence awaiting the time when they would all be satiated. His eyes had traveled the length of the shimmering, gold cord more than once from Jasmine to Yassov ending in a look of consternation. As the bowls of fruit and spiced yogurt had been removed and they had dipped their fingers in lemon water to cleanse them, Prince Akbar had finally inquired over the nature of the bond.

"We really don’t know your lordship," Jasmine answered as respectfully as she could imagine a Prince was accustomed to being addressed. "They appeared on us when we arrived at the marketplace. They do not seem to be easily removed."

The prince’s eyes narrowed judiciously as he pondered her answer. Taking another approach towards the truth of the matter, he flinged his suspicions in her face. "Have you been captivated by the forces of darkness, Lokmi? Is that why you delayed returning? Were you not satisfied with your powers as a white sorceress?"

"Your highness, " Jasmine tried to deny the charges she didn’t understand. "I am not Lokmi, I am Jasmine. And I don’t know..."

"Oh yes!" Yassov cut off her protestation quickly as he realized the source of the Prince’s careful treatment of Jasmine. "She is indeed a powerful sorceress! She can cast an evil spell on you and your kingdom if you do not release all of us at once."

"And yet she did not choose to escape my prison?" Prince Akbar’s knowing eyes darted towards Yassov in expectation. "You have failed the test, Jasmine!" The prince’s use of her true name revealed his understanding that she was not his Lokmi. "Of what use is magic if you can not free yourself with it? Of what use are these bonds that hold you together? Who are you really?"

Yassov remained silent aware the Prince remained thoughtful but unconvinced.

"Where have you been??" Prince Akbar went back to the subject of the previous night as he fingered the jewels encrusted on his clothes.. "Who sent you and why?"

Jasmine bit her lip nervously unsure of how to answer the question.

"Prince Akbar," Jasmine said respectfully smoothing out the azure folds of cloth that lay on her lap. "I do believe Lokmi sent me here to fulfill her promise. She promised to help you. So do I. But, in order to help we must know what troubles you."

"That would take an act of trust," Prince Akbar sighed heavily. "I once had such trust in Lokmi and she left me lying to me about what she had divined in the sacred waters. ‘The waters do no lie,’ she had told me. ‘We are all in danger because of what has occurred this day.’" The Prince made a mockery of the conversation as he remembered it. "What happened?! Nothing happened because I acted swiftly and without remorse. The cause of the danger wasn’t from a child. The blame lies where it always does in the Tower of Dreams, the evil sorcery about us. Instead, Lokmi insisted she had seen something of such great importance that she had to leave us defenseless. Unless you can tell me what secret Lokmi divined in the sacred waters, I shall not trust you."

‘The sacred waters,’ Jasmine thought it had an odd ring to it. Water was a dream symbol for matters of the spirit Jasmine remembered. In some dream books she had often consulted it was also a symbol of sex. And now he feared her a sorceress - a mistress of the spirit world. The second level was about relationships she was sure of it because of the bonds. Could it be viewing the "sacred waters" again would blaze the true nature of their relationship back into her mind and explain what the water symbology had to do with their predicament?

"Let me view the sacred waters, Prince Akbar, " Jasmine said resolutely. "Maybe then I can answer both our questions."

"At last! We come to your true purpose!" Prince Akbar clapped his hands together at the realization of what Jasmine suggested. "Only a sorceress may look into the sacred waters without going mad. And what is there? Truth? Power? Even Lokmi would not tell me and yet I trusted her to help us. I shall not trust another sorceress again."

Before they could argue further a guard came running in, bowing low in obsequiance as he tried to obtain forgiveness for the unexpected interruption.

"What is it?" Prince Akbar said fully annoyed first at Jasmine and now at the palace guard.

"One of our prison guards, Hassim, is dead!" The palace guard gasped out the bad news quickly. "The bearded man who came with Lokmi has slit his neck from ear to ear."

"Bring him here now." Prince Akbar commanded, his nostrils flaring as the lips drew tightly in a strained line. The air grew heavier as Yassov and Jasmine tried to breath in the unavoidability of a death sentence. Moments later the guards thrust Prof. Taslim and Sr. Mary to the ground restraining them physically from rising from their abject positions. Sr. Mary’s pink dress was shredded on the left breast which she was holding up modestly with her right hand as tears rolled down in profusion from her ordeal. Prof. Taslim sneered derisively at her before turning the deformity of his third eye on Prince Akbar.

"He shouldn’t have interfered," Prof. Taslim snarled at the group assembled the third eye glinted and blinked as alive as the other two. "She deserved it!"

A whisper of fear swept through the assembly as all focused on the sign of the evil eye. Jasmine, noting the new visual organ for the first time, gasped loudly as she put her hand to her mouth in disbelief. The cord between Sr. Mary and Prof. Taslim was gone!

"He tried to rape me!" Sr. Mary wailed pitifully as she cried more for Hassim than for herself.

"Silence!" Prince Akbar’s command left them both speechless. "One of my subjects is dead because of you. Let me hear the account from my guards before I pass sentence. Let the guard on duty speak."

The older guard who had warned Hassim earlier stepped forward reluctantly. Pointing his shriveled finger at Prof. Taslim he recounted the events succinctly. "This man slaughtered Hassim like a lamb as he tried to separate them to protect the woman’s honor. He didn’t hear her yelling that he had a knife until it was too late. But, if she had not yelled there would have been more dead."

The older guard cringed as he stepped back into the protection of the other guards visibly shaken by Prof. Taslim’s evil stare.

Turning towards Prof. Taslim, the Prince questioned him, "Where did you get the knife?"

"Oh, I just dreamed it up." Prof. Taslim laughed at the cleverness of the truth. The guard holding him shoved his knee into the small of his captive’s back causing Prof. Taslim to grunt in pain. The professor’s head turned swiftly around and pinpointed the man responsible.

"Perdeep, you think you will get the opportunity to burn my eyes out with your brands again? I want you to remember who I truly am. Manu will come back and torture you eternally when I have breached the secrets of the Tower and claimed the kingdom in which you now live!"

The guards brave eyes widened at the dead prisoner’s name. Manu’s dead consciousness had slipped into full control of Prof. Taslim’s body sending it hurling towards Jasmine in that moment of surprise. Prof. Taslim’s tight grip coiled around Jasmine’s wrists as she struggled to get free of him while the guards rushed in with their swords raised up ready to massacre the entire crowd. With a final hysterical laugh, Prof. Taslim pulled Jasmine and Yassov through the black line that swallowed their images like ribbons being wound into the flat slot of a film projector. The black line shimmered in the air briefly before it too disappeared closing the door to Manu’s other wordly hideout. "Manu lives again!" Prof. Taslim’s final note of warning echoed through the empty breakfast area.

The Prince looked around for Sr. Mary realizing she had escaped in the commotion. Flinging his arm straight out in royal consternation, he sealed her fate. "Find the woman. She and her companions are to be used as training targets at tomorrow's weapons practice."

As the guards filed out obediently, the Prince hurried out of the breakfast area down the heavily blue and white tiled path next to the Palace gardens until he arrived at the soothsayers quarters. As he pushed the door open the dust blew up in billows in front of him. There had not been a practitioner of magic in this part of the palace since Lokmi had left. Walking towards the small sandstone alcove hidden by the dense, dark purple curtained soaked with the dirt of time, he hesitated nervously pondering what lay behind the curtain. The sacred waters were there he knew. It was the last place Lokmi had entered before she had disappeared altogether.

"Lokmi?" Prince Akbar called knowing it was futile and yet desperate that he was wrong. "Lokmi? We need you now. There is evil sorcery about. The black fog is at our door and now Manu has come back from the dead full of sorcery! You were right! We need you now. We have no seer to guide us to a safe place nor sorceress to protect us. You promised to come back. When are you coming back?"

The curtain remained motionless and mute. Prince Akbar turned to go back to his quarters. He would post a guard here. If the woman who called herself Jasmine or the black sorcerer who had taken her returned and were allowed access to the sacred waters, there would be only evil in the land for many generations to come.

Jasmine looked about her failing to distinguish any form other than her own which was pulsating a warm light in the middle of an ocean of darkness. The cord that had linked her dutifully to Yassov remained attached to her wrist but the end seemed to dangle in the space in front of her, its light also dissipating quickly in the fog of the permeating blackness.

"Yassov?" She queried what seemed to be empty space around her.

"I’m here." Yassov’s muffled voice came through the darkness without his form coming along with it.

Jasmine walked in the direction of the voice tracing back the remnant of cord between them only to collide with the solid dark wall in front of her. "Yassov?" Jasmine asked again in confusion.

"He’s trapped," Prof. Taslim’s figure stepped out of the nightly mist next to her. "I’ve got him boxed in, you might say."

"Why did you kidnap us? Jasmine asked realizing her fellow Seeker was no longer to be trusted.

"Let’s start with the introductions, please!" Prof. Taslim tried to act the part of the gracious host. "I’m Manu, previously assistant to the seer of Agra Forte and now a sorcerer in my own right. Do you remember me now, Lokmi?"

Jasmine shook her head in the negative.

"Deny it all you want, Lokmi, but surely you can’t forget someone you allowed to be imprisoned for curiosity only. That’s what drove me to look in the waters, you know. I was a curious boy - always. " Prof. Taslim’s gentle hands wrung together as Manu’s consciousness wrestled with the earlier memories trying to make this final explanation to his mistress. "I didn’t mean to offend you. I loved you. I wanted to be your equal so you could love me as well."

Manu paused as he awaited his beloved’s plea for forgiveness which never came.

"You know, I don’t blame you for my mistreatment or death. It was that evil Prince who wouldn’t let me live once I had seen the mystery of the sacred waters. He claimed I was mad, and feared my magic lest it destroy his kingdom. In a way, my death was a gift. It allowed me to perfect my magic. I have become even more powerful than you it seems." Manu continued.

Jasmine tried to swallow the dry knot in her throat away. "If you love me, Manu," she ventured to reason with him in his demented state. "free my companion and I will stay here with you."

Manu’s laughter echoed mechanically through the oppressive darkness. "You know as well as I you are bound until you set yourself free by your own actions. And besides, I would not take you as you are now. I have access to the professor’s mind and it tells me you are not the sorceress you once were. In order to get free of the Tower of Dreams I need you as you once were."

Jasmine did not try to deny it. She was beginning to understand the person in front of her was not Prof. Taslim anymore. He had been possessed by the evil spirit of Manu, a long-dead prisoner who had once been her assistant driven mad by his brief glimpse into the sacred waters. Yet within the body of Prof. Taslim there was still his consciousness either fighting to get out or joining with the invading entity in its power hungry quest. And as such, Manu had access not only to information he had culled as a spirit in the dead realms but also as Prof. Taslim and his modern day knowledge. Jasmine shivered at the cold she felt as if she had been trapped in a frozen meat locker.

"You are afraid!" Manu interpreted her shakes gleefully. "I do so like being the one in control, Lokmi. That is why, even though, I need your sorceress’ knowledge, I will not let you run the show anymore. Your friend here, " Prof. Taslim’s slender finger pointed at the obsidian encasing next to her, "is my insurance. I have not failed to notice your link is white. You two have shared a love over many eons. I know you will not disappoint me even when you remember who you truly are. If you do, your love will die a most horrible death. And believe me, I know about horrible deaths from experience."

Jasmine’s face became ashen as she realized the truth of his statements. She closed her eyes wishing for the dream to end. As she did so, the cold she had perceived enveloped her in a whirlwind causing her to gasp as she tried to keep the perception of her soul’s warmth alive. She struggled not to succumb to the penetrating icicles that stabbed at her skin and invaded her organs. As she began to despair that she too would become possessed, the frigid breeze collected itself into a slab of ice locking her head in a vice so that she was forced to look downwards towards her toes.

"Open your eyes," Manu’s high, raspy voice echoed through Prof. Taslim’s mouth as he commanded her. Jasmine resisted him, struggling against the uncomfortable position.

"Open them or your friend will pay for your insolence!" Manu refused to let her defy him.

Bracing herself for the pain she feared would meet her as she obeyed his command, Jasmine was momentarily puzzled to see a plain white ceramic basin with the bluest water she had ever seen. Hidden deep within the azure liquid she discerned the glimmers of a hidden light reflected over various surfaces as if a jewel lay hidden at the bottom.

"That’s it," Manu said fully satisfied that soon he would have his love back again but much better than before. "Drink it up, Lokmi. The waters will tell you all their secrets. They will not be as brash with you as they were with me. Soon you will come back to me, my sorceress."

Jasmine’s blue eyes joined with the cerulean waters below hypnotized by the lights reflected from the mysterious gem below. The water began to swirl as it sensed the presence of someone viewing it. The waters frothed a foamy white as it churned, thinning itself towards the edges and revealing the crystalline outline of a transparent shell that now dispersed a rainbow of hues along its many crests. As Jasmine watched the dizzying dance of lights reflected within the white basin and along the stormy, midnight blue waters along the edges. The crystalline shell blasted a spray of magical glimmers in her face as it inserted minute, invisible anchors with her consciousness that were now tugging at her from within. She felt her essence slowly sucked from her body as it went to join the sacred ceremonial dance within the crystal shell. Jasmine’s inert form crumpled to the ground devoid of any essence to keep it active.

Manu’s third eye stared bloodshot as Lokmi underwent the initiation of a sorceress again. He shielded himself with his visual powers imagining the same purple cloth that curtained this alcove now in front of him. The waters understood magic because they were magic. What they wouldn’t tolerate, Manu now supposed, was a male invading their domain. The waters had been created by sorceress’ for sorceress’. The old sorceress’ had made sure only a woman would be able to unlock the secrets of the crystalline shell. All others were lucky to survive the wrath of a woman unveiled. He thought Lokmi had told him that once. It seemed a reasonable explanation. It was just like a woman to keep her secrets to herself, Manu figured. He almost had died an eternity of madness when Lokmi had aided him out of the maze. It was her kindness that had spared him then, that he knew. It was her sorcery that had implanted the powers of the third eye to allow him to shield himself. It stood to reason, she would not slay what she had taken great pains to save. He had survived but the secrets he had glimpsed within the sacred waters had been forgotten.

His imprisonment had been a compromise because the Prince had feared an unknown sorcerer with the mark of the evil eye within his kingdom. Lokmi would have freed him, he was sure just as she had saved him from the waters. It had proven she had cared for him, he smiled devotedly at Lokmi’s crumpled form. However she had been delayed for he had been tortured and beheaded the same night.

"They thought I was dead," Manu laughed at the premise. "They should have known better. No one can really die in a dream." He had discovered that upon awakening in his cell after his execution still alive but bodiless and equally powerless. His death had had some sort of impact on him for the first few weeks, as he remembered. For no matter how hard he tried to leave his cell, he remained incarcerated within the walls trying desperately to break free. Even now some force held him closely bound to the darkened room and allowed him only brief journeys before the stone walls closed in on him and imprisoned him once again. During those brief respites he had discovered his only hope for freedom, Lokmi, had left the Tower. It was rumored in the palace that she had left to search out the key to the kingdom’s freedom before a more powerful black magic found them in the Tower of Dreams. Already they had suffered disappearances of their territories as more powerful magicians had gained sway over the souls in those districts. Whole villages had vanished into the ether as their reality had shifted out of the Prince’s command. What reality they now were experiencing was anyone’s guess. There were many realities in the dream world, as all Seekers knew, some pleasant others nightmarish. One thing every person in Akbar’s kingdom did know: they had all arrived here the same way. They had chosen to enter the Tower of Dreams and take the challenge only to have failed before the seventh day. They pledged allegiance to the Prince and Lokmi as a means of uniting themselves for protection. They fully understood how vulnerable they were in a realm where magic was the norm but the adepts were few. And of those few, many were black magicians bent on usurping the dreamer’s will and energy to their own benefits. It was only through Lokmi’s intervention and the Prince’s management that the kingdom had remained a stable center of peace for so much time, hidden from the lustful eyes of roaming magicians. But the night Manu had been executed had also been the night Lokmi had left the kingdom promising to return with the secret of where the exit to the Tower of Dreams was located. She had been away three years, the last year of which the black fog had descended to the outskirts of the city’s densely populated regions hesitating in its final act of conquest. An unknown sorcery was getting ready to take control of the Prince’s kingdom.

If only the Prince had understood the source of his problems were a weakling assistant long since "dead," Manu chuckled to himself. Killing him had only made him more powerful. Not powerful enough to escape the Tower of Dreams but strong enough to understand finally that all the time he had thought he was limited by his body he was in reality confining himself by his own perceptions. In dreams there were no bodies, only those a person was convinced they had. Thus with the power of Lokmi’s gift, the evil eye, and his new understanding of the dream realms he had begun his subtle conquest. Exploring and expanding his powers with each new "disappearance" he had devised. He had wanted to make the Prince shake in terror. He had wanted it to be a slow but relentless harassment that would cause the Prince to wish for death. But death was one thing Manu would never give him. In effect, Death would liberate the Prince from this illusion, and that was the source of Manu’s power. He wanted the Prince to suffer just as he was suffering. That had been his intent until Lokmi had returned. Then Manu had begun to see a whole new set of possibilities. He was now Lokmi’s equal and deserving of her love, he was sure of it. She would undoubtedly be horrified to learn what had befallen him. Together they would avenge the wrongs of the past. And her return meant one other thing: she knew where the secret exit was to the Tower of Dreams. With this knowledge and the joining of their powers, they could escape to the physical world and enslave the Prince’s kingdom for their own benefit. It would be a more satisfying revenge than this makeshift fantasy he had devised to pass the time away.

But, to return to the physical world, Manu had needed a physical body. One still alive in the outside world. It had been killed he was sure when the Prince had had him executed. That was when providence had seen fit to deliver Prof. Taslim to his cell. Convincing Prof. Taslim to join forces with him had been a small feat really. They had both wanted to escape the cell and exact revenge and Manu had powers that even Prof. Taslim had respected. When he had brought Prof. Taslim into his dark fog as he slept, it was there Prof. Taslim let Manu slip into his consciousness just as he remembered the experience with Monsieur Justin. And Manu had kept his part of the bargain, the knife was his doing. The attempted rape, well, as time-consuming as it had been, Prof. Taslim had been hell bent on it. And Manu had recognized the opportunity for total possession when Prof. Taslim had vented his repressed anger on Sr. Mary, shifting the partnership to a dictatorship where Manu found himself governing. Possessing Prof. Taslim’s consciousness completely had been delightful as Manu experienced the first total freedom from the cell’s captivating force as the guards had led him to the Prince’s sitting room. Even now, Manu liked this Prof. Taslim especially now that he had passivated him into total compliance. He was quite useful as it had turned out as a source of information. It was here he had learned that Lokmi did not remember being anyone else other than Jasmine.

So he had devised the perfect stale mate. Just in case. Yassov was Jasmine’s motivation to remember her identity as Lokmi. As Manu understood it, Jasmine was Lokmi. She had returned possibly after fighting an opponent who robbed her of her memory. Lokmi would return no matter what had happened. She was too smart not to plan ahead and send herself back automatically, timing a spell to catapult her back somewhere safe in case she was losing the battle. The waters would help her remember life and her sorcery. From what he could remember, he had stolen some glimpses of his own life before the shell’s energy had realized his masculinity and surged through his brain in a fit of electric rage. The shell would never fully whisper its secrets to him. He had to wait for Lokmi to return. And when she did, she would love him or he would cause her to suffer worse than he had suffered. Manu looked down at the thread of light now stretching from the basin and into the black slitted dimensional doorway floating within the alcove of the Prince’s palace, on the other side of which was Yassov. For a moment he wondered if his captive could feel Lokmi’s ordeal. But, he really didn’t care. If Yassov became demented or not, Lokmi would only know that her ‘favorite’ remained imprisoned in the dark regions. If Manu couldn’t count on her to love him freely, she would obey him because she feared for Yassov.