Despite his melancholy mood, Ichabod giggled when Ruin talked about the fae prancing around and copulating with flowers.  The demon’s description might be a bit exaggerated, but it did paint a very amusing picture.  And maybe he was right.  Maybe Sebastian had been showing a sort of mercy when he left Ichabod free to continue his travels -- the only sort of mercy his kind was capable of showing to a human.<span style="font-style: italic">But he did steal my youth</span>, Ichabod thought sadly.<span style="font-style: italic"> Whether he meant to or not, he stripped it from me and took it away with him like a cheap souvenir. </span><br/><br/>Exhausted, Ichabod lay down on his bedroll.  A few seconds later, he tensed slightly when he felt Ruin’s back press against his own, surprised by the unexpected contact.  But then he quickly relaxed again.  Ruin’s warmth eased the bitter chill that had taken hold in Ichabod.  And even more than that, he found the demon’s presence oddly comforting.  “Thank you,” Ichabod murmured -- loudly enough that Ruin could hear him, but softly enough that the demon could pretend that he hadn’t.  Then he drifted off to sleep.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Ichabod dreams.  He’s seated at a table, playing cards.  Shadows mask his opponents.  However, he can clearly see their piles of glittering gold coins, practically begging for him to win them.  Confident, Ichabod glances down at his hand.  But none of the cards look familiar.  He doesn’t recognize them or understand their value.  Sensing the impatience of his opponents, Ichabod struggles to figure out whether he should bluff or fold.  Then his cards burst into flame, burning away to nothing, while screams echo somewhere in the distance.</span><br/><br/>It seemed like only minutes later when Ruin shook him awake, although Ichabod knew that it had probably been much longer than that.  Without speaking, he packed away his bedroll, and then lit one of the torches.  His injured arm throbbed with a dull pain, but he could still move it easily enough.  Once he’d completed his preparations, Ichabod stood close to Ruin, watching with amazement as his companion banished the evil spirits.  Their agonized cries sent a shudder down Ichabod’s spine.  For a moment, he thought he glimpsed something wearing Sebastian’s face in the darkness -- begging for pity, begging for mercy.  But Ichabod only shook his head and stepped nearer to Ruin, his hand unconsciously brushing against the demon’s.<br/><br/>The feat had clearly taken a toll on Ruin, who staggered after completing the spell.  As subtly as possible, Ichabod tried to help steady him.  He knew that Ruin was fiercely proud, and probably wouldn’t appreciate the aid, but Ichabod still wasn’t going to let his friend fall on the floor.  Then, without another word about the matter, he started down the hallway Ruin had indicated.<br/><br/>Now that torchlight illuminated his path, progress was considerably easier for Ichabod.  As he scanned their barren surroundings, desperately searching for something which might lead to a way out of this maze, his mind had time to wander.  He hadn’t ordered Ruin to save him last night.  His misguided plea for help had been directed at Sebastian, not the demon.  Ruin could have simply stood back and let him be devoured by evil spirits.  Then, with his master dead, the demon would be free.  But Ruin hadn’t done that.  Ruin had saved him, even though this whole mess was his fault to begin with.  With growing certainty, Ichabod knew that releasing Ruin was the proper reward for such selfless behavior.  A few days ago, that was all he’d wanted to do -- let the demon go and get on with his life.  So why was he so reluctant now? Why did his heart seem to shrivel and shrink whenever he even considered it?<br/><br/>Before Ichabod could find an answer to that question, they entered a circular room.  Here, the unending blankness of the maze gave way to another ceiling mural -- although this one, thankfully, wasn’t framed by a gaping mouth.  “It’s a star map,” Ichabod  announced, becoming accustomed to describing things to his blind companion.  “They’ve drawn lines connecting some of them together.  But I don’t recognize the pattern.”  Craning his neck, Ichabod turned in a slow circle, studying the image above them.  When he was a boy, his mother taught him the name of every constellation.  And long after her death, a restless young man often stared up at the night sky, remembering all she’d told him.  So why didn’t this one look familiar?  What did it mean?<br/><br/>After a moment,  inspiration struck Ichabod.  “Hold this,” he requested, thrusting his torch into Ruin’s hand.  Then he reached into his pack, pulling out a leatherbound notebook and small charcoal writing stub.  These were normally used for keeping track of any gambling debts.  But now Ichabod flipped to a blank page and carefully copied the unknown constellation.   “I think I’ve found the way out of here.”  Ichabod tried keep the excitement from his voice, just incase he was wrong.  However, a little bled in anyway.  “We’ll need to follow a very exact path.”<br/><br/>Only one door lead from the circular room.  Ichabod felt fairly certain that it wasn’t in the same place as the one which had allowed them to enter, but that didn’t matter.  It must be the starting point.  Taking the torch back from Ruin, Ichabod stepped through the door, and began counting his paces as he walked down the hallway beyond it.  This would establish the scale for the rest of their journey.  After exactly twenty paces, the hallway turned left.  Again, Ichabod examined his drawing of the constellation.  Twenty paces, and then left -- if this next corridor went on for approximately twice as long, he could figure out where they were.<br/><br/>Triumph surged through Ichabod when forty paces took him to the next intersection.  Here, two new hallways branched off from the initial passage, but Ichabod knew exactly which one to take.  With growing confidence, he wove his way through the maze, using his sketch of the constellation like a map.  Until finally, he felt a gust of fresh air blow across his face.  A whoop of jubilation escaped Ichabod.  Unfortunately, the evil spirits seemed to sense that they were about to lose their prey.  Shrieks of disappointment and rage sounded in the darkness behind them, loudly enough to rattle the temple’s ancient walls.  Hastily, Ichabod seized Ruin’s hand, afraid that some trick might separate them just when escape seemed certain.  Then he hurried down the last hallway.<br/><br/>After what seemed like an impossibly long time, they finally emerged from the temple, just as dawn was breaking across the horizon.  Ichabod had never been so glad to see a sunrise in his entire life.