“Indeed, we cannot choose but take it,” agreed the Shadow Witch.
They resumed their journey, therefore, and now, though the way behind them had been gloomy, that which stretched before them grew more and more so; yet the darker it became about them, the brighter was the glow that streamed from Prince Ember, and the more surely was the Shadow Witch sustained and cheered thereby.
After a while, they saw that they were approaching an open space, which was wrapped in thick darkness. Beyond it their eyes could not penetrate, but in its midst they beheld shapes like wreaths of vapor arising from below.
The Shadow Witch turned pale, and caught Prince Ember by the arm to draw him back. “Go no farther!” she cried in warning. “Go no farther, I beg of you! Yonder is certain destruction for us both! It is the Pit of Fumes! Those dread and yellow mists carry poison in their breath!”
“Though that be so, yet I must conquer them, for behind us lies your prison,” the Prince replied to her. “To it we must not return.”
“Never shall you risk such danger for my sake,” the Shadow Witch answered firmly. “Better an endless prison for me than such dreadful peril for you. I speak of what I know—none but my brother has ever dared to enter yonder place. You shall not go.”
“And when this place is passed,” demanded the Prince, “what lies beyond?”
“What matters it what lies beyond, when destruction lies between?” she murmured sadly. “Were the way ever so open when the Pit is passed, it is closed to us who stand upon this side.”
“What lies beyond?” demanded he again. “Answer me truly, for I must know.”
Then the Shadow Witch knew that she must tell him. She covered her face with her hands, and her tears fell fast. For a moment she could not speak.