An iron lantern stood on the damp stone floor of the tunnel. In its circle of light stood four people and one small orange monkey. The Earth-witch smiled at Storm in welcome as he placed a pack on the floor. Scoundrel grabbed it and scooped out a small cake. He settled down on his haunches, held the sweet to his mouth and began to nibble. The cling-monkey seemed to have forgotten Storm entirely.

She walked forward, studying the three strangers. There was an older man in a dark cloak. His hair and beard were streaked with grey and he looked strangely familiar. Beside him stood the young Water-witch she had met in town, and a smaller, frail-looking woman.

The three bowed in greeting. “We met in town,” said the younger man.

Storm nodded. “I remember. You warned me about the Fire-witch. I saw you too,” she said to the older man. “You are an Air-witch! I saw you in the red tent. I never thought of using a flute to focus magic. Will you teach me, Master—”

“I’m afraid we haven’t time for lessons,” interrupted the old Earth-witch. “Skill matters, Storm, but always remember that the Elementals control their magic. You can never master what does not belong to you. It is your other talents the Three seek to use.”

“I have no other talents!”

It was true: other than storytelling, she had never had a talent for making. But the old man merely smiled in reply.

Three of the four gathered here to meet her were witches: Earth, Air, Water. Storm stared at the woman, unease making her heart beat harder.

“Yes.” The woman spoke reluctantly, her words so faint Storm could barely hear them. “I belonged to Fire.”

A gaunt woman dressed in crimson, flames shooting from her fingertips. Storm shuddered. “Why have you brought her here?” she demanded.

“She has relinquished Fire.” The Earth-witch’s voice was grave.

“Some of us have refused to do the Fire spirit’s bidding, even at the price of our magic,” the woman said. “I am a witch no longer.”

“The Tortoise is here as a sign that you may trust us,” said the Earth-witch. “The spirit told me you would come here. How else would we be waiting for you? We meet here, Under Earth, for your safety. Far from the island’s old volcano. Here Earth is dominant. Nevertheless, we must hurry. The morning draws near and we have much to tell you. Please listen. The Tortoise itself asks this!”

“And the Albatross.” The grey-haired man’s eyes grew fierce, like those of a sea-eagle.

“And the Dolphin!” The young man smiled with joy.

The woman’s eyes never left Storm’s face. Now she said, “I do not speak for the Salamander. Only for those Fire-witches who fear that the spirit who claimed us as its human children will sacrifice everything – even the existence of life itself – for dominion over its old rival, Water!”