Seth could feel his vitality slipping away. Cold emanated from the wound in his belly out to his extremities. The process of becoming undead was in motion. He was doomed.
“Seth!” the Sphinx insisted. “Hold the Translocator.”
Orogoro loomed over Seth against a peculiar background of black curtains. The Traveler stood off to one side. And the face of the Sphinx entered his field of view, peering down at him.
“I’ll handle the middle segment,” the Sphinx said, displaying the Translocator. “I’ll get us out. Hold the Unforgiving Blade in one hand and the bottom of the Translocator with the other.”
Seth scowled groggily. Wasn’t it enough that his life force was draining away? Did everyone have to keep bothering him? He wanted to pull the covers over his head and go to sleep.
The Sphinx put the hilt of a sword in Seth’s hand. Then the Sphinx grabbed his other hand and put it on the Translocator. The moment the Sphinx let go of Seth’s hand, it fell limply from the device.
“You have to focus,” the Sphinx said. “No matter how much it hurts, you must cling to the Translocator to get out of here.”
“Your mission is not over, Seth,” the Traveler said, his voice ringing clearer than the Sphinx’s. “Trust me, you’ll find no rest here. You have the strength to see this through.”
“People are depending on us, Seth,” Calvin urged. “Get us out of here.”
The Sphinx put Seth’s hand back on the Translocator. Seth squeezed it, and everything around him changed.
He was inside a gazebo, stretched out on whitewashed planks, the Sphinx crouching over him. They were back at the Fairy Queen’s shrine at Fablehaven. The hot day contrasted sharply with the climate of the demon prison.
“You did it,” the Sphinx said. “I can’t believe we got away with the jewel from the Demon King’s crown. Let me see your stomach.”
The tacky fabric clung to Seth’s abdomen as the Sphinx peeled the shirt away from the wound. “How is it?” Seth asked.
“Not a big wound,” the Sphinx said. “But the blood keeps coming.”
“I have medical glue in my satchel,” Seth said. “The kind that covers wounds.” Did treating the wound matter? If he was becoming a wraith, who cared if he lost some blood?
“You’re shivering,” the Sphinx said, rummaging in Seth’s satchel.
“I’m cold,” Seth said. “I feel the blade inside of me like a void.”
“The blade isn’t there anymore,” the Sphinx said. “It’s in your hand.”
“I see the blade in my hand,” Seth replied, teeth chattering. “And I also feel it inside my gut. Taking it out made no difference. Somehow the blade is still there.”
The Sphinx gently smeared something on his stomach. “The blade is out. And this glue is amazing. It’s holding the blood inside. Your injury might be permanent, the discomfort may continue, but the damage isn’t increasing.”
“It feels like the wound is pulling me away from life,” Seth muttered. “Am I joining the undead?”
“You have started in that direction,” the Sphinx said. “But you’re not getting any closer.”
“The light inside of me is fading,” Seth said.
“Do you feel the blade stabbing deeper into your innards?” the Sphinx asked. “Is it widening the incision?”
“No.”
“The same is true of the summons to join the undead,” the Sphinx said. “The initial call was made permanent. But it lacks power to advance the process.”
“It feels like I will be undead soon,” Seth said.
“But you won’t without more wounds,” the Sphinx assured him. “I know this process better than most.”
“Is it daytime?” Seth asked.
“Yes,” the Sphinx said.
“It looks shadowy,” Seth said. “Like evening. Late evening.”
“I’m sorry about your wound,” the Sphinx said. “But you have a mission to finish. Can you get on your feet?”
Seth knew he had to take the stones to the Singing Sisters. Or die trying. “Did we bring the Demon King’s jewel?” Seth asked.
“I have it,” the Sphinx said.
“Put it in my satchel,” Seth said, trying to sit up, then falling back.
“You’re in bad shape,” the Sphinx said. “You’re shivering and sweating too.”
“It’s hard to think clearly,” Seth said. “My mind feels hazy. I see . . . death coming. Not the restful kind.”
“You’re exhausted,” the Sphinx said. “You’ve been through so much. I’ve never visited the Singing Sisters before. But I’ve been to Missouri, so I could teleport close to them. Do you want me to be your messenger? You’re in no condition to travel.”
Seth contemplated the suggestion. He was so tired. And he could hardly think. He desperately needed sleep. Did it matter who delivered the fragments?
“Put his satchel down,” Calvin said. “Wait for permission. This is Seth’s assignment.”
“Seth, can you hear me?” the Sphinx said. “You fulfilled your mission. You gathered the pieces of the Ethergem. I’ll deliver them for you. Should I take the Unforgiving Blade as well?”
“Seth, draw Vasilis,” Calvin said.
Seth’s hand fumbled to the hilt of his sheathed sword. The metal felt warm in his hand, almost alive, humming with power. As he pulled the blade from the scabbard, heat and vitality coursed into Seth. The day looked brighter. Sitting up with a grunt, he rolled to his knees, then staggered to his feet.
The Sphinx held the satchel in one hand, the Translocator in the other. Seth could still sense the Unforgiving Blade inside of his belly, but the pull toward night had faded to the background. Vasilis had never shone a darker red.
“What are you doing with my satchel?” Seth asked.
The Sphinx smiled uncomfortably. “I’m helping you finish your quest. Do you really want a sword in each hand? Doesn’t leave room for much else. Would it help if I carry the Unforgiving Blade for you?”
“Why do you want it?” Seth asked, holding up the dark weapon.
“To ease your burdens,” the Sphinx said, watching Seth warily. “And to protect the pieces of the Ethergem.”
“Set down the satchel,” Seth said.
“Seth, you’ve been traumatized,” the Sphinx said. “You’re not in your right mind.”
“I’m going to finish what I started,” Seth said. “I need the Translocator.”
The Sphinx was holding the Translocator by the bottom of the cylinder. Seth knew if the Sphinx grabbed the center and twisted, he could disappear.
“The Translocator stays with me,” the Sphinx said.
“I thought you wanted to help,” Seth said flatly.
In one motion, the Sphinx looped the satchel over his shoulder and reached for the Translocator with his newly freed hand. Seth lashed a wing at the Translocator, slapping it from the Sphinx’s grasp with a ping of metal against metal. Holding Vasilis outward, Seth advanced to where the Translocator had fallen, forcing the Sphinx to retreat from the gazebo to the boardwalk.
“That was not friendly,” the Sphinx said, shaking one hand as if it smarted.
“Neither was taking my satchel,” Seth said.
“You’re trying to steal my Translocator.” The Sphinx glanced over his shoulder. “I could chuck your satchel in the pond. You won’t see the pieces of the Ethergem again. Those naiads are loyal to Ronodin.”
Seth held out the Unforgiving Blade. “Then I’ll give you a taste of forever,” Seth said.
“Don’t be rash,” the Sphinx said, a quaver in his voice.
“You wanted to be an Eternal,” Seth said, moving toward him. “This blade could give you a present to keep you company through those long years. A wound that never sleeps. You’ll learn more about the undead than you ever wanted to know.”
The Sphinx set down the satchel and backed farther along the boardwalk, hands raised. “I was just trying to help. I don’t know how this went sideways.”
Eyes on the Sphinx, Seth paced forward to the satchel, crouched, set down the Unforgiving Blade, put the strap over his shoulder, picked up the Unforgiving Blade, and stood. Then he returned to the gazebo where the Translocator lay, not far from where the white planks were spattered with bright red blood.
Seth realized that to both hold and twist the Translocator, he would have to sheath Vasilis. He glanced at the Sphinx. “Back off,” Seth said. “Get far away.”
“Might be nice to have a friend right about now,” the Sphinx said.
“He’s got me,” Calvin said.
“Back away,” Seth said. “I won’t ask again.”
The Sphinx retreated to the next gazebo along the boardwalk, watching Seth with continued interest. Seth sheathed Vasilis, and immediately the day dimmed. His knees buckled, and it took effort not to fall flat. Icy despair rushed through him from the point where perfect night had entered his abdomen.
Seth heard footfalls.
The Sphinx was running toward him.
He could try to draw Vasilis again.
But wouldn’t that lead to the same stalemate as before?
Pushing through mental fog, Seth groped for the Translocator. The Sphinx pounded closer. Awkwardly holding the bottom of the cylinder with the same hand gripping the Unforgiving Blade, Seth twisted the middle and thought of a cavern in Missouri.
His surroundings transformed.
Seth was now kneeling beside a pool of water in a subterranean chamber. The Translocator fell from his hand, clanging against the stone floor. A few torches were burning, reference points in the blackness.
“Intruder!” a voice shrieked.
“Trespasser!” another voice cried.
“Wait, it’s the boy!” a third voice observed.
“That is no way to enter an abode!” the first voice complained.
“We can’t have minions appearing at will!” the second voice griped.
“Pay attention,” the third voice insisted. “He’s badly hurt!”
Dropping the Unforgiving Blade, Seth slumped forward to his hands and knees. Dizzy and exhausted as he was, the voices seemed to come from far away. Where was he? Why was the room so dark? His dimmed vision seemed to be getting worse. How black would it get when he fully became a wraith?
Seth heard feet flapping against the stone floor surrounding him, accompanied by sporadic grunts and growls.
“No, don’t kill him,” the first voice instructed.
“Let’s find out how his quest is proceeding,” the second voice suggested.
“He’s been stabbed by the Unforgiving Blade,” the third voice shared in a hushed tone.
The voice was right—he had been stabbed. And the Sphinx had tried to take the Unforgiving Blade.
“Seth is hurt,” Calvin said. “He was fulfilling the mission you gave him.”
Seth realized he had reached the lair of the Singing Sisters. The voices must belong to the witches. The grunts were probably from the trolls who served them.
“Let him speak,” the first voice said. “Can you answer us?” Seth recognized the speaker as Wilna.
“The boy is spent,” the second voice whispered. Berna.
“He needs to recover,” Orna said.
Seth’s hand found the hilt of Vasilis.
“No,” Orna said. “Don’t draw it, not in this state. It will leave you more depleted, and you need your strength.”
“I have them,” Seth managed.
“The pieces of the Ethergem?” Berna asked.
“All of them,” Seth mumbled.
“I told you,” Orna said.
“In the satchel,” Seth murmured.
“He’s delirious,” Berna said. “The boy can’t possibly have them all.”
“Use your senses,” Wilna said. “I feel the presence of the fragments. I did not expect to see him again.”
“I told you he might do it,” Orna said.
“Rest, boy,” Berna said. “We’ll watch over you.”
“I will too,” Calvin said. “I made it. My hand wasn’t on the Translocator, but I guess I’m small enough to be counted as a possession. You can rest.”
Seth went limp on the cool stone, resting his cheek against his folded arms. Yes, he needed sleep. He might never wake up. And that might not be so bad.
“He’s coming around,” Orna said.
“About time,” Wilna complained.
“He fulfilled the quest at great cost,” Berna said.
“He deserves a break,” Orna said.
“He is not done yet,” Wilna cautioned.
Seth could still feel the Unforgiving Blade penetrating his belly. The same depth as before—just an inch or two. Cold radiated from the wound—piercing cold that made him wish he could go numb. The blade seemed to feed on him, a metaphysical vacuum draining his life away. Seth knew it was only a matter of time before he joined the undead.
But the witches were trying to talk to him.
“I can hear you,” Seth said.
“Good!” Orna cheered. “We’re pleased you brought the pieces of the Ethergem.”
“Can you heal my wound?” Seth asked.
“Sadly, that is beyond our abilities,” Berna said.
“Can you help me withstand it?” Seth said.
“We can try,” Wilna said. “We made a concoction.”
Seth squinted at the dim silhouettes of the witches, standing in a circle, arms conjoined at the wrists. “Has it gotten darker in here?” he asked.
“It is brighter than usual,” Orna said. “You’ve been tainted by the Void.”
“I’m afraid it’s permanent,” Seth said.
“Everyone in the mortal world gets contaminated by darkness,” Wilna said. “Though your case is rather extreme.”
A steaming bowl was set in front of Seth. Shifting, he noticed a thin blanket had been placed over him.
“Thank you, Gromlet,” Orna said to the little troll shuffling away.
“Smell it first,” Berna recommended.
Seth inhaled the warm vapors rising from the broth. He was still in the process of awakening, and the aroma hastened his alertness. Picking up the bowl, Seth tried a sip. The liquid was hot enough that he sipped carefully. As he drank, the scalding fluid provided a pleasant contrast against the frigidity spreading from the belly wound.
“My mind feels clearer,” Seth said.
“If you hope to proceed, you must learn to see around the wounds from the Unforgiving Blade,” Wilna said.
“Proceed where?” Seth asked.
“Onward,” Orna said.
“You have paid your debt to us,” Berna said. “We have three gifts for you.”
“I’m turning into a wraith,” Seth said.
“That process is arrested for now,” Wilna said. “Resist despair. You still have much to accomplish.”
“But my debt is now paid,” Seth complained.
“Yes,” Orna said. “But your life isn’t over.”
“Do your gifts have strings attached?” Seth asked.
“You be the judge,” Wilna said. “They are freely given. You owe us nothing for them.”
“We reward those who serve us well,” Orna said. “Good help is hard to find.”
“Do what you will with them,” Berna said.
“What are they?” Seth asked.
“I give you Vasilis,” Orna said. “The Sword of Light and Darkness is yours to keep for as long as you wish to bear it.”
“Thanks,” Seth said, surprised by the value of the offering.
“I give you the pieces of the Ethergem,” Berna said. “Do with them what you will.”
“You had me hunt down the fragments just to give them to me?” Seth asked.
“Yes,” Berna said. “I freely bequeath them to you.”
“Is Wilna giving me Witchprize?” Seth guessed.
“We’re keeping the wraith,” Wilna said. “Witchprize is your loss. My gift will be information.”
“Okay,” Seth said, trying to focus.
“The Wizenstone was used by Graulas anciently to seal off the Source,” Wilna said. “When you cleaved the Wizenstone, you weakened the seal, allowing us to discern the Source’s location.”
“Where is it?” Seth asked.
“This information must be carefully guarded,” Wilna said. “If the wrong person learned the whereabouts of the Source, the balance would be placed in extreme jeopardy.”
“I get it,” Seth said.
“You really don’t,” Wilna said. “At least you are trying. The Source is hidden in the desert outside Selona.”
“I see,” Seth said.
“Excuse me,” Calvin said. “If you ladies know about Graulas and the Wizenstone, can you tell us how to break the nipsie curse?”
The witches cackled.
“The curse is tied to the fate of the Ethergem,” Orna said. “You wish to break the curse?”
“With all my heart,” Calvin said.
“And do you wish to defeat Celebrant?” Berna asked.
“It’s why I did your tasks,” Seth said.
“Then you must return the pieces of the Ethergem to the Source,” Orna said.
Seth struggled to push away feelings of his impending undeath to process what he was being told. “Will that repair the Ethergem?” he asked.
Wilna laughed. “No. Nevertheless, you must take the pieces of the Ethergem to the Source if you want any chance of defeating Celebrant.”
“The same must be done if you aspire to break the nipsie curse,” Orna added.
“I can hardly think,” Seth said. “I barely got these jewels to you. This was me stumbling across the finish line, tank empty. Maybe I could do more if I hadn’t been stabbed.”
“There is no one else to do this besides you,” Wilna said.
“Anyone not stabbed in the gut might be a great start,” Seth said. “Lots of people are fighting the dragons. Pick somebody.”
“We’ve looked,” Berna said.
“The only person who might be able to deliver the necessary items in time is you,” Orna said. “And your tiny friend is the perfect escort.”
Seth groaned inwardly. He couldn’t let Dragonwatch fall to the dragons. Not while he was alive. Not if there was a way of giving Kendra a chance to win. “How am I supposed to find it?”
“Travel to Selona and find a child without guile,” Berna said. “While you slept, we placed a spell on the Ethershard. In the hands of an innocent, the shard will lead her to the Source.”
“Her?” Seth asked. “Does it have to be a girl?”
The witches cackled uproariously.
“We have someone in mind,” Berna said.
“We were trying to save you time,” Wilna said.
The witches cackled again.
“I’ve been paying off a debt,” Seth said. “And I’m finally done. Will this ever end?”
“You are under no obligation to continue,” Orna replied.
“If I can give Kendra a way to stop Celebrant, I will,” Seth said. “And I can’t ignore a chance to break the nipsie curse.”
Orna eyed her sisters. “I told you. We haven’t seen anyone of this caliber since Patton.”
“Tell none but the innocent about the Source,” Berna warned.
“The secret of the Source must be kept,” Wilna cautioned.
“How do I get to Selona?” Seth asked. “I’ve never been there, so I can’t use the Translocator.”
“Rizzle,” Berna said.
“A river troll we have in our service,” Wilna explained. “He spent some time in Selona.”
“He’s a little hard of hearing,” Orna said. “Somewhat past his prime. But he could get you there using the Translocator.”
“Not quite to Fairview,” Berna said. “But you have wings.”
“Even after a rest and your broth, I’m having a hard time focusing,” Seth said.
“Use Vasilis when you must,” Orna said. “The strength it provides might be your only hope. Just remember, when you put it away, you will be even more exhausted.”
“Use the Sword of Light and Darkness as sparingly as you can,” Wilna counseled. “Now and always.”
Tossing aside the blanket, Seth rose unsteadily to his feet, then picked up the Translocator in one hand and the Unforgiving Blade in the other. He took a shuddering breath. He could see little more than the flames of the torches spaced around the cavern.
“What if I take a day or two to recover?” Seth asked. “I would have a better chance of making it.”
“If there were more time, I might recommend it,” Berna said.
“The attack on Selona draws nigh,” Orna said.
Wilna spoke with quiet certainty. “If you wait much longer, the battle will be over.”