“You insult me, witch! Do you think I am afraid of you? You have no notion of the magic of which I am capable. The Sentinels once possessed what you and your Lazarus brothers and sisters so arrogantly consider to be yours. We have worked, for generations, toward reclaiming the Elixir, to having it restored to us. And over those long years we have honed our skills, developed our talents, passing down this knowledge and ability, working and practicing our art, utterly intent on our prize. The Sentinels have never had such a leader as the one who stands before you now, Morningstar. I am the apotheosis of that ambition. All those centuries of magic are distilled through me. I can crush the life from any being who treads this earth—man, woman, witch, or sorcerer. And I will crush you. All of you.”

So saying he utters harsh, guttural words, enforcing his magic, so that I see magic fizzing and crackling in the air around him. The Cavaliers are whirling around Bram in an effort to protect him, but Stricklend is too powerful, and I know that if he releases the spell he is building to, they will not be able to defend Bram against it.

It is a simple matter to step in front of my adversary, to put myself directly between him and Bram, to stand in the path of the evil magic that was meant for the man I love. As I do so I hurl my own half-formed spell at Stricklend with all the fury I can command. As my own magic finds its target I see Stricklend drop to his knees with a cry of pain. But not before he has sent forth his own vicious spell. At least, as I fall to the ground, I have the satisfaction of knowing that not only is Bram protected but that the wicked Sentinel is, for now, disarmed. The charge of blackness that he has released finds its target not in Bram but in me. It is not the piercing stab of a dagger, as I might have expected, but the blow of a hammer, as if a giant has wielded the thing, and my flimsy body has taken the full brunt of the strike.

I can hear someone calling my name. It is Bram, his voice full of anguish. My vision blurs and shapes swim before my eyes. I know I should breathe. I try to, but little air will enter my body. I feel I am filled instead with some solid, suffocating substance that repels life. I am aware of figures moving. Stricklend turns and flees, clutching at his side where the arrowhead of my spell found its mark. And suddenly Bram is here, cradling me in his arms.

“Lilith! Oh my God, my darling Lily.”

“You are safe, my love.”