Among the encircling pine trees Rathersting faeries were arriving from across the Deeps, and with them came the hamlet clans of East Mirth and Pickle’s Gander, drawn by the great noise. They faltered onto branches and gaped at the scene before them.

“Like these stones, so much from the Dawn Days has fallen away. And like this temple, the world may be rebuilt or left to crumble. One of your kind had pled for you that you might prove what you can still become. If there is to be a new age born on the morrow, it can have but one beginning. . . .” He paused and peered closely at all the faeries, his ebony-edged eyes lingering on Vesper a little longer than the others. “The only beginning is a new champion, one who might this night vanquish the king of devils who hunts your wood!”

Murmurs of “new champion” and “Blackbringer” stirred among the faeries. Stalwart warriors puffed out their tattooed chests and envisioned themselves as champion. Among the Never Nigh folk, eyes turned to Vesper. Her own eyes widened in fear. She heard Kex Winterkill clear his throat and before she could stop him, he cried, “Hail, Lady Vesper, Queen of Dreamdark, descended of Bellatrix, champion!”

The Magruwen turned to Vesper, flames licking out from his eyes, his horns flaring high and bright, and he growled, “Bellatrix has no descendant but the child that dreams made real!”

Emitting a squeak, Vesper spun to flee.

With one swift wing beat the Djinn surged through the air and swung around her to cut off her retreat. She flinched from him and seemed to shrink. “My lord,” she whispered, “I beg you let me go!”

“How came you by Bellatrix’s ornaments?” the Magruwen demanded.

Whimpering, Vesper couldn’t answer, and the only other who could have told had scuttled down from the fork in the tree at the first sight of the Magruwen and made his whistling way into the obscurity of the forest, his new falcon skin safe in his satchel.

The Djinn snatched the golden circlet from its perch on Vesper’s headdress and the scarves fell away too, revealing to all the clumps and masses of writhing worms that grew from her scalp. Her hands flew to her head. As faeries gasped and some of the Rathersting warriors jeered, Magpie felt her cheeks flush with shame for the lady, even in spite of her hatred. She almost wished to unwork the spell, but then she thought of Gutsuck’s gaping gore-streaked mouth and hardened her heart.

“You are banished from Dreamdark, never to return,” the Magruwen pronounced, and Vesper, sniveling, wheeled in the air to flee. “But wait,” said the Djinn, and she found herself frozen in place. “Such a garment as that can never be remade, now that firedrakes are extinct. I’ll have it, faerie.”