“I will take him with me, witch!” There is a hysterical edge to Stricklend’s voice now. “I will drag him down into the Darkness with me!”

I pause, halting the magic that is moving the men across the graveyard floor. Turning, I see a strong ivy that twines its long way up one of the tallest yew trees. I open my palm toward it and bid it come into my hand. As I watch, the glossy green vine uncurls itself from the trunk of the tree and travels toward me. It snakes its way around my arm and into my hand. I close my fingers about it and draw a deep, refreshing breath. As I breathe I close my eyes and picture the leaves of the ivy shimmering and shivering as they change from green to black to silver. Only when I know the magic has taken hold do I open my eyes. The plant is transformed, so that now I have my own, pulsating, enchanted Silver Thread.

I raise my arm, drawing it slowly back to its full extent. Then I flick my wrist and fling my arm forward with all the strength I can muster, and the Silver Thread flies out, with a fearsome, singing whip-crack. It finds its mark. Stricklend yells. As the thread returns to coil around my arm I see blood bursting from a deep line across the Sentinel’s face. Again I draw back my arm, and again the shining ivy whips forward, this time curling around Stricklend’s throat. With a swift yank, I haul him sideways. His cry is throttled as he at last lets go of Bram, scrabbling at the thread, unable to pry it off. In desperation he throws a spell of his own, causing a piece of burning branch to fly at me. It strikes me upon the shoulder, the heat melting my nightgown, searing it into my skin. I cry out, but I do not flinch or falter. Not for one second do I take my eyes off my foe.

“Your time is at an end, Sentinel. You will not tread this earth again, in body or in spirit. I curse you and condemn you to the Darkness for all time!”

He opens his mouth to scream, but there is not time enough for him to do so before the Silver Thread tightens as I pull it, unraveling from his neck, sending him spinning over the edge of the crater, and finally, into the pit. I whip back the thread and stride forward, all the while chanting the words that I know will close the rupture and seal Stricklend’s fate.