My throat is dry and sore, yet still we chant. Morgan touches Tom’s cheek and glances at me, her eyes full of pity, and I shake my head. We have to keep trying. Taking a deep breath, I call upon all the magic I have in me. I draw the energy up from the depths of my being, imagining it flowing out of my body and into his chest.

Tom draws a breath, and my shoulders sag with relief. Clutching his arm, I wipe away my tears and smile at him, too overcome to speak. His chest gently rises and falls and my heart swells with gratitude, thankful he’s alive, and for the magic that brought him back.

Morgan pats my shoulder and I turn and hug her. ‘You saved him, Morgan.’

‘It was your energy that revived him. I simply showed it the way.’ She smiles and I see a girl reflected in her black pupils – a girl whose eyes are blazing with witch-light. Me.

While Morgan goes to my sisters, I take Tom’s hand. He opens his eyes and tries to speak, but only manages to cough.

‘Just lie there a minute, it’s OK.’

He gives a tiny nod and closes his eyes. After a few moments, he raises his head and looks around anxiously. ‘What happened? Where’s Merlin?’

I squeeze his hand. ‘Morgan managed to take his sceptre. He tried to grab it, but our magic held him back and he fell into the portal.’ I remember the strange look on his face before he threw himself into the swirling vapour, and a shiver of unease runs through me. Something tells me Merlin isn’t that easy to defeat. Maybe he wasn’t killed, but taken somewhere else.

Tom smiles weakly and then pushes himself up to sitting. He looks utterly exhausted, as if he could crumple at any moment. Kneeling next to him, I check the back of his head but I can’t see any sign of a wound.

‘Are you OK? Does it hurt?’

‘I’m fine.’ He tries to stand then slumps back down.

‘Hey, it’s me you’re talking to. You don’t have to pretend.’

Covering his face with his hands, he leans forward and takes a shaky breath. I rub his back and can almost feel the fear and adrenaline seeping out of him. He glances at me, his eyes heavy with sorrow. ‘I’m glad you’re all right. I don’t think I could take it if you’d died.’

I laugh off his concern. ‘I’m sure you’d be OK.’

‘I don’t know,’ he answers quietly.