Ema Skye had a killer headache. She moaned as she awoke, her half-awake mind realizing that something was holding her. Groggily, she struggled to get out of its grasp.

"Not just yet, fräulein Skye,"

That voice. That annoying voice.

Suddenly, Ema was completely awake. Her eyes glared sharply at the blonde haired prosecutor that was holding her. "I may have a headache, but I can walk. Put me down, Klavier!"

He smiled in a way that both looked aggravatingly nonchalant and relieved. "It is good to see you are back to your old self, fräulein Skye. And just in time too. We have arrived at the basement." With a grin, he placed her down on the dingy cement floor.

Ema scowled in his direction, brushing the dust off herself. "You do know that I'm never going along with your 'it'll be fun!' schemes again, right?"

"Of course," he agreed all too cheerfully.

Ema sighed, knowing what that meant. He was actually feeling quite down about himself, but he didn't want anybody else to know. By now, she could read him like a book. "Look, Klavier, it isn't your fault. You couldn't have known Kristoph would be here."

"We should have left as soon as we saw him," Klavier shook his head, his sorrow beginning to melt through his façade. "I am terribly sorry."

"I know you are," Ema agreed. "And you know what? You can make it up to me by finding the others so we can get out of here!"

"Gladly," with a grin, he handed Ema her spare flashlight, then pointed his around the room. "It appears we have a choice of left, right, or straight. Fraulein Skye?"

"Left?" She suggested.

"Right it is," he decided, pulling her through the door to the right.

Maya Fey was sitting peacefully in the channeling room at the Kurain village, enjoying a cup of tea with her cousin Pearl. Suddenly, a thought popped into her head, and she had to do what any reasonable person would do: immediately say it out loud.

"I wonder what Nick is up to right now!" Maya declared, placing her tea on the table in front of her.

Pearl looked up from her cup, startled. "Umm… probably just reading those boring law books?"

Maya deliberated this for a minute, going through more expressions than Pearl could count. What if Phoenix was in trouble? He always seemed to be in trouble.

Should she channel Mia and have Pearl ask if he was ok? Should they both go dashing to his rescue with the speed and grace of a panther leaping onto a cheeseburger?!

Maya took a deep breath, ready to finally give her puzzled looking cousin an answer. "Yeah, you're probably right."

Maya Fey went back to drinking her tea.

Phoenix Wright was slightly unhinged. He was currently walking through a creepy maze of basement corridors, cobwebs hitting him nearly every time he took a turn, with only the tiny light of Edgeworth's flashlight to guide him.

Speaking of which… Edgeworth hadn't tried to kill him for at least five minutes now. He thought he was going to die when his best friend had pushed him down into the larder earlier, but somehow he had survived.

Why was he doing this again?

It was for Trucy and Apollo, he reminded himself. To make sure they were safe…

… so why then, were they nowhere in sight? And for that matter, why was he helping a man who tried to kill him?

Because Miles Edgeworth was his friend, and he wasn't going to abandon him in a (literally) haunted house alone, he reminded himself again.

That and this way he could keep a closer eye on him. Edgeworth had never been the spitting image of health, but now he seemed even more drawn and pale than usual.

Though he obviously knew the answer to his next question, Phoenix felt the need to ask it out of habit and obligation, "Hey Edgeworth, are you ok?"

The power of Edgeworth's icy sardonic glare was nothing to be trifled with, and indeed, in court, few dared to meet his stare face-to-face. Now, the look in those hazel eyes was magnified a thousand-fold, enough to nearly smush Phoenix's already weak-knees into goo with a simple, "what do you think?"

"I'll take that as a 'no.'" Phoenix muttered under his breath.

Seconds later, they rounded a corner and were faced with a dusty wooden door. A closed dusty wooden door.

Tension and apprehension suddenly filled Phoenix like sand filling an hourglass. Make that a second-glass. What horrible mysteries could be behind that door? What terrible disasters would they face if he dared to open it?

"Don't tell me you've grown a fear of closed doors…" Edgeworth smirked next to him in disbelief.

"In this house… yeah, I'd say I'm a little scared," Phoenix admitted, ignoring the scoff from his side.

"Then I'll do the honor," Edgeworth grumbled, pushing open the door and stepping through first.

A rickety wooden bridge greeted them, creaking rhythmically as it swayed in the breeze of some unseen origin. The dilapidated old bridge hung over a gigantic pit with no bottom in sight.

Tentatively, Phoenix stepped through the door, pausing as his foot rested on the first wooden plank of the bridge. Bridges… why was it always bridges?!

"Gephryophobia, Wright?" Edgeworth smirked beside him.

Due to his massive cramming for the Bar exam, Phoenix now recognized but failed to understand the meaning of many words. Due to his great fear of bridges, (especially bridges that had been set on fire) he recognized gephryophobia.

"Yes!" Phoenix heard his own small voice squeak. "The only way this could be worse is if…"

As if someone had heard his fears, the bridge suddenly burst into roaring flames.

"AIEEE!" Phoenix danced back into the previous room, pulling his friend with him and slamming the scary dusty door shut. "I think we should look for another way."

But before he could continue, Edgeworth had already thrown open the door and jumped through… right into the mouth of hell itself, as far as Phoenix was concerned.

Phoenix felt his breathing quicken as he held onto the doorknob, as if his life depended on it, while he quickly deliberated whether it was really worth it to run across a rickety wooden bridge. On fire. Again.

Like the last time, he found himself running like a madman across the bridge, his poor clothing falling victim to the flames as he desperately tried to run after Edgeworth's retreating form.

The heat from the bridge seared the hairs on his skin, leaving a burnt aroma in its wake. Phoenix was only barely aware of this as he ran, and just as he reached the other side…

…he found himself standing in the foyer, just inside the large front doors he had passed through not long ago.

Phoenix Wright was alone.

Franziska Von Karma was tired of waiting for that foolish fool of a detective. Throwing open the next door, she paced quickly through an uninteresting room, opened the next door, and ran straight into Trucy Wright.

"Girl," Franziska addressed her, facing her squarely. "Move out of the way."

Apollo Justice, who happened to be standing behind Trucy, frowned. "Hey, technically, you were in our way."

"It's ok, Polly," Trucy reassured him. "It'll be more fun if we all go together, right?"

"You foolishly foolish fool! If you think I, Franziska Von Karma am going to—" Franziska began to rant, but then a very peculiar thing happened.

Though her lips were moving, no sound came from the silver haired prosecutor's mouth. Franziska's eyebrows raised in shock as she touched two fingers to her silent lips. And then, like a terrible tidal wave, it hit.

The silence.

Nothing made a sound. Not Franziska's vehement shouting. Not Apollo's chords of steel. Not even Gumshoe as he frantically bust through the doorway behind Franziska.

Apollo began shouting, desperate to be heard. Gumshoe was already quaking in his soggy shoes. Franziska continued to look unimpressed.

Only Trucy touched each of their arms with a smile, slowly making a motion like she was zipping up her lips with two fingers. With a calm wave, she urged them out of the room.

The next room appeared to be a wine cellar. Dusty caskets of wine lined the walls, guiding them to the door on the opposite side of the room. Gumshoe didn't mind a little wine with his dinner, but that wasn't why he was so happy to be in this room.

"Whew! I'm so glad the sound is back!" the detective sighed happily, patting Trucy on the back. "Thanks, pal! I don't know what I'd have done without you back there!"

Trucy smiled, tipping her blue silk hat his way. "All in a day's work, right Polly?"

But Apollo wasn't paying attention to her anymore. He had opened the door to the next room and frozen with his hand on the doorknob at the sight inside. "Oh no…"

Miles Edgeworth was laying on the ground, unconscious in a pool of bright red blood.

LateNiteSlacker's Notes:

I'm alive! And we'll see next chapter who ends up living and who doesn't. Review please!