Serena and Paabo stepped out of their carriage in front of a large, two story tavern. The wooden beamed structure was topped with a jolly red tile roof, and from each window hung a box of small, brightly colored flowers.

The Coven wasn’t the largest or grandest inn to be found in the town of Wikkan, but it was clean and affordable, perfectly respectable for a middling-ranked witch traveling with a dwarven artisan.

"Not bad," Paabo commented, appraising the inn and the pleasant town around them.

"What did you expect, hags in a bog?"

Paabo scratched his neck. "Well, you know the stories—witches dancing nekked around fires at midnight and all that. I thought you all lived alone, like in the song. Mages in high towers be,—"

"Witches live in ones or three," Serena said, completing the rhyme. "There’s some truth to it; no witch would live here in the town. Most are up in the hills, some of the villas are quite spectacular."

"Villas?" The dwarf replied, blowing out his cheeks.

The interior decor of The Coven leaned heavily toward mountain kitsch. Doilies were central to the theme, with no flat surface being spared a delicately laced mandala pattern. Serena had never quite understood the distinction between knick-knacks and bric-a-brac, but there was enough of an eclectic assortment of both here to satisfy any jumble sale aficionados' appetites.

The owner emerged from behind a crocheted curtain and produced two keys. "Here you are, mistress," she said with a small bow, speaking in tones of reverence.

"Does everyone in the town bow and scrape like that?" Paabo asked in a quiet voice as they climbed the stairs.

But Serena didn’t reply as another voice entered her consciousness unbidden.

Serena, the Wikken seat will see you now.

Serena suppressed a shudder. The message came from Magra, the skeletal undersecretary of the Wikkan Seat, and it was never pleasant to have her rasping voice in your mind.

"Everything alright?" Paabo asked.

"Everything’s fine; I’m going to go into the town and pick up some things; why don’t you settle in?"

"Right, you are," the dwarf replied with a yawn.

"And Paabo, don’t answer the door to anyone, okay?"

The blacksmith's eyebrows furrowed. "Expecting trouble?"

"Around other witches, always."

The Villa of the Wikkan Seat was hidden on a vast estate that covered one of the hillsides far above the town. While it's true that most witches live alone, that doesn’t mean they couldn’t live in style.

Serena reached the gate and suppressed a shudder as the spindly undersecretary approached her. Magra had black hair and pale white skin that was pulled tight over the gaunt bones of her face. The witch had delved further than any other into the abyssal plane, and her shriveled body was living proof of the types of deals that were made with the entities that lived inside.

"I was sorry to hear about Jena," Magra croaked with a voice like dry paper.

"Jena and Hesp," Serena corrected.

Magra pointed a long, bony arm towards the house like the spectre of death condemning a victim, and Serena couldn’t help but imagine a bell tolling somewhere. "Come, the Wikkan Seat is in the garden."

The garden was in a courtyard surrounded by worn stone walls, and a short, plump woman knelt and worked diligently in a bed of fragrant herbs. Serena took one of the comfortable garden chairs while Magda hovered in the shadows by the entrance. An ostentatious golden tea pot was steaming gently on a small table, and Serena frowned. She didn’t know the Wikken Seat personally, but she wasn’t known for her flamboyance.

"Serena, isn’t it?" The gardener stood before her wearing a wide-brimmed sun hat and an apron with several gardening tools jammed in the front pocket.

"Yes," Serena replied.

The woman gave a businesslike nod, sitting down in the seat opposite her and proceeding to pour tea. "I’m Agatha Fawn, the new Wikkan Seat."

It took a moment for the words to sink in, and Serena cast a glance at Magra, who gave an almost imperceptible nod.

"High Wikkan," Serena said, giving the barest incline of her head.

No witch would ever admit to there being a leader among them, but in truth, the High Wikkan held this role. The qualifications for the position were simply to be more cunning, ruthless, and well-informed than your competition. Most witches, Serena among them, preferred to stay far away from the others. Her life before Jena and Hesp had been a solitary one, and she preferred it that way. In fact, it weren’t for Jena she wouldn’t be here at all, but if there was a way to help finish Jena’s work, then she owed it to her to find it.

"I was sorry to hear about Jena and poor young Hesp." The Wikkan Seat took one of Serena’s hands in her own and patted it gently, turning it over and tracing a line along her palm with her finger. "I have never had a sister to lose, but I understand it is hard," she continued.

The words felt hollow, and they did nothing to sooth the open wound in Serena’s heart.

"The frozen wastes of the north, banishing a demon, voyages at sea, great magic in the western jungles, my my," Agatha mused as she surveyed Serena’s palms.

Serena tensed. Agatha was clearly a reader of some skill, and it took all of Serena’s willpower not to wrench her hands back.

"You really should have told us that you were going to look for them," Agatha said. There was a mock sternness in her voice, and she wagged a stubby finger at Serena. "Magra would have been happy to assist in banishing that demon. I understand that you’re skilled in this area, but you shouldn’t be too proud to ask for help."

Agatha released her hand, and Serena sat very still.

"So what can you tell me about this excursion to the north? Was Jena successful?"

The question was delivered innocently enough, but it told Serena what she wanted to know; the new Wikkan Seat didn’t know what Jena had been working on.

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Serena let some of the tension out of her shoulders. "Jena made it clear that I wasn’t allowed to be involved; I assumed these were the instructions of the previous Wikkan Seat."

"Jena was right to keep her work a secret, but was there anything at all she shared with you? It might have seemed trivial at the time."

"I have no notion about what her aims were. I only know that she was searching for Linium."

Agatha’s eyes widened slightly, but she controlled her reaction. "And did she find any?"

It was good to see the limits of Agatha’s skill as a reader; she had only been able to see a broad outline of Serena’s activities.

"Yes, I was able to secure a small amount."

Agatha sat back and exhaled heavily, then tapped both hands lightly on her knees in the universal sign that the meeting was over. "Well, that’s something at least. You have done a service to the Wikkan Seat; you can leave the Linium with Magra."

"Apologies, but I can’t leave it. It was payment for my services."

As soon as the words left Serena’s mouth, she knew she had made a mistake.

"Look around; we can reimburse you," Agatha said, her smile revealing her small teeth.

"I’ll send someone with the Linium right away," Serena clarified.

As Serena left, she felt the eyes of the Wikkan Seat following her out of the garden, and to her surprise, Magra spoke to her.

"I really was sorry to hear about Jena," Magra repeated, clasping her hand and pushing a tightly rolled piece of paper into her palm.

Serena hurried back to the inn, anxious to examine the note from Magra.

"You’re certainly a popular young lady," the innkeeper said as she hurried past. "Your colleague couldn’t stay and wait for you."

Serena felt panicked; after her meeting with the Wikkan Seat, the last thing she needed was for Paabo to go and get caught up in all of this. "Where is he?"

"Sorry, your other friend." The woman scanned the colorful slips of paper on the counter that were scrawled with tiny handwriting, finally seizing one. "Mistress Rhena, she waited for you for some time, but said she would be back later."

"You let her into my room?" Serena asked.

"I’m sorry, but she was a witch; I wouldn’t dare say no."

Serena hurried up the stairs and moved straight past her room to the one occupied by Paabo. She leaned against the door, heard a rhythmic snoring sound, and let out the breath she had been holding.

"Paabo," she hissed, rapping on the door.

The snoring stopped abruptly, and there was some muttering in dwarfish, which sounded like a curse. Paabo pulled the door open, blinking and scratching his stomach. "What’s happening? Hey!" He exclaimed as Serena pushed past him.

The paper from Magra was a small square containing one symbol and one word written in abyssal.

"Oh, she must be joking," Serena said, sitting heavily on the bed.

"What is it?" Paabo asked, taking the paper and turning it around several times with a puzzled expression on his face.

"It’s a summoning from the abyssal plane."

The blood ran from Paabo's face, and he backed away, raising his hands. "Nonono, you said this was just a simple job. I know that you and the witch lady were close," he spluttered.

"Jena," Serena corrected.

"Right, Miss Jena. I'm really sorry she died, I really am. But she just wanted some Linium and a bit of consultation. That floating island was enough danger for a lifetime. I think I have to go."

"I’m sorry, Paabo; I know you didn’t sign up for this, and things haven’t really gone to plan. I just need a little more help with this last thing. Please, I don’t have anyone else."

Paabo’s breathing calmed and his expression softened; he sat down next to Serena and handed her back the paper. "I’m just not used to this adventuring, I’m not that kind of dwarf. Certainly never thought I’d be summoning some beast from the abyss with a witch."

"It’s worse than a beast; it’s an imp," Serena said.

The furniture was pushed to the sides of the room, and a crude chalk circle was drawn on the floor.

"Thought it would be more complicated than this," Paabo mused.

"People tend to overcomplicate things," Serena explained.

The circle flashed white once, and a squat, fat Imp with leather wings appeared in the center. "Ere, what d’yer fink yer doing?" It said.

"I know your name, Imp, don’t make me use it," Serena warned.

"You don’t scare me, where’s Magra?" The Imp said. He flapped his stubby wings and floated to the chalk circle, then began scratching at the line, making it blaze bright.

"Eric, stop it," Serena said. The imp’s whole body went rigid, and he landed on the floor with a heavy thump.

"Eric?" Paabo said, an eyebrow raised.

"Now, Eric, I have some questions, and I want them answered. You can get up."

"Not right that, giving away an Imp's name," Eric grumbled, picking himself up.

"Be that as it may, I have questions. Magra sent me."

"Magra ay?" Eric said thoughtfully, scratching his chin. The imp looked Serena up and down and glanced at Paabo. "Here’s my deal: one night of full control of the body, dusk till dawn."

"Standard rules apply, and there will be a chaperone with full control," Serena countered.

Paabo looked from the witch to the imp with his mouth slightly open.

"Deal," Eric said, and the circle flashed brightly and disappeared. "Now what do you want to know?"

"What does Magra want me to know?"

"She’s a tough one, old Magra; she's been through a lot to get most of this together." Eric began. The imp flapped over to the bed and landed on a pillow, making himself comfortable.

Serena looked expectantly, one eyebrow raised and her foot tapping on the floor.

"The bones of it is, the witches helped create the Faelen Echo a long time ago," Eric said.

Serena leaned back against the wall and exhaled. All witches knew that there was a terrible secret about their history, but of all of the revelations that she might have heard, this was the most unexpected. "Go on," she managed.

"The witches who did it got rid of the evidence, don’t know why."

"So the Faelen Echo is real?"

"Yup, that’s what Magra and the others were going to do next: find a way in."

"How were they going to do it?"

"There used to be gateways made by some arcanist ages ago; he left a couple of them here and there. They’ll take you anywhere you like, to any plane of existence you know. Even the abyssal."

"You said Magra and the other? Who were they?"

"Magra, the old Wikkan Seat, Lindra, and another one, Jena," Eric said, counting the names off on his clawed fingers.

"That’s what Jena was doing; she was trying to find these gates," Serena breathed.

"And a way to power them," Eric added.

"The Linium," Paabo and Serena said together, both smiling.

"There must be a Hedron somewhere; if they needed Linium it needs to be repaired," Serena said, looking to the imp, who nodded.

"Look at you two, so happy with yourselves. Question is, if they have the Hedron, and they know the truth, why are we both here and not up there fixing it?"

"Eric, what happened to the old Wikkan Seat?" Serena asked, her voice taking on a hard edge.

"There you go, finally a fun one." The imp cackled, drawing his claw-like finger across his neck and making a slicing sound.

"The new Wikkan Seat either wants to find out the truth for herself or she already knows and didn’t like the answer," Serena guessed.

Eric nodded like a teacher pleased with the response of a slower student.

"Eric, do you know where the Hedron is?"

"Certainly do," the imp said, and he got up and stretched his arms.

"What are you going to do?" Paabo asked Serena.

"You don’t have to help Paabo; I’ve asked too much of you already. But I’m going to steal that Hedron, then repair it."

"You’re going to go to the Echo?" Paabo said, his voice clearly disbelieving.

"If I have to. I need to get to the truth. Or all of this was for nothing."

"Hold your horses there, witch lady. All of this will happen after I have a cracking night out on the tiles, as discussed," Eric added.

Giving control of her body to an imp was distasteful, but with Paabo there, she was sure he couldn’t get up to too much mischief. Generally, they just went out and got blind drunk, leaving their host to deal with the hangover. Serena sighed and tied her hair up so that it wouldn't get vomit on it.

"Paabo, Eric is going to use my body for the evening. You are to act as a chaperone to make sure he doesn’t do anything that you don’t think I would agree to," Serena explained.

The imp gave a guttural laugh, and Paabo’s mouth opened and closed a few times. "How do I stop him?"

"You know his name. Just say, Eric, stop."

The imp flinched and grumbled. "Lets go; it’s already dark out, so you’re on the clock. Do you agree to the terms, dwarf?"

Serena looked up sharply in alarm.

"Yes," Paabo said.

"No!" Serena cried.

But it was too late; Eric had disappeared, and Paabo’s face broke into an impish smile. "Never been a dwarf before, let’s go."