She had sought this place. The last roll of the dice. She watched him slide on the bed as he started removing his shirt. She thought about her husband...for only a second. He used to have a body like that, before the booze, the affairs and the arguments. Hate was too strong a word, but she wasn’t happy. She hadn’t been for a long time. The man tapped the bed, signalling her to join him. She slipped off her coat,and her shoes before sliding onto the bed. He kissed her again. This time, his hands. Trying to be discreet, I watched them out of the corner of my eye. They both had a glass of white wine in front of them. They were quietly chatting as they sipped their wine. I was about to say something to Scotty when two men approached them. Both men were younger, in their mid to late twenties and fashionably dressed in silk sports coats, light weight wool slacks and dress shirts worn open at the neck. I glanced around the ball room. Variations of that outfit seemed to be the standard uniform. ‘Can’t you feel my heart beating? I’m warm and alive and I need you. You need me. Does he make you feel like this? Does he know how to set you on fire?’ He stopped for a moment to study her face. ‘I’ve been to hell and back trying to get to you. I would give up my life just to make love to you one more time. Don’t turn me away.’ Something in his eyes — a memory perhaps, or the spark of a flame long gone dormant — caught her by surprise, draining away what little was left of her resistance. She. We find him here, observing countless timelines using a giant portal in space, surrounded otherwise on all sides by oppressive darkness.The sorcerer had never been a pleasant one to behold. His skin possessed a sickly shade of gray and his eyes were two suspicious, crescent slits. His mouth formed a cocky sneer, as though even now he could not admit defeat. His garb was as boisterous as ever: purple, regal, consisting of a headdress and sorcerer's gown, embroidered in purple, with the royal.
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