Serena checked the hand-drawn map once again, committing the floor plan to memory, then screwed the paper into a ball and gripped it hard enough to make her knuckles crack. Smoke began to curl out from between her fingers, and small pieces of paper ash floated to the ground.

"Come now; she is occupied." Magra’s voice grated inside her head, and Serena slipped through the darkness towards the villa.

The idea that Magra might be setting a trap crept into her thoughts again, but Serena quashed them. Aside from the fact that Magra had shared what she knew with her, it was too late to turn back now. The cost of confronting both witches would be great, but she was prepared to pay.

Avoiding the large gatehouse, Serena slipped around the side of the house to a small wooden door set in the wall. A stone carving of a large snake twisted around the door frame, and its jewelled eyes seemed to watch Serena approach. Holding her breath, Serena reached out for the door handle. It turned easily in her grasp, and the eyes of the snake remained lifeless.

"The meeting has started early, you must make haste." Magra’s voice didn’t hold any urgency, but for her to add this much detail was practically her version of shouting hysterically.

Serena felt a tremor of fear pass through her, but she mastered it with a deep breath and ducked through the small doorway, pulling out a small piece of lamb's wool and whispering softly the incantation to make her footsteps silent.

Tapestries hung from the walls, and beautiful mosaics covered the floors. Witches provided services to many powerful people on the continent, and they were well rewarded. Serena herself felt the courts and politics of the larger regions to be crass affairs, but the Wikkan Seat answered the calls of Kings and Queens and was well compensated.

The hallway ended abruptly, and a staircase descended into the gloom. Two sentinel statues of entities from the abyssal plane stood on either side of the corridor, their heads hidden under their stone wings. Agatha was clearly familiar with the abyssal realm, but keeping them entombed here reeked of insecurity. A weak witch sought to control these entities when it was far more effective to work with them.

The staircase took her to a short corridor cut out of the rock and finally to a round door made of stone.

Taking a few moments to pull some more wool from the pouch at her waist, Serena muffled the air on the staircase to prevent any sound from escaping. The carvings on the round stone door were written in abyssal and moved sightly under her gaze, like a living, writhing form. They explained the nature of the guardian inside, with the central image showing a monstrous creature made of hundreds of writhing tentacles that obscured its form.

She knew she would never get through the door without the name of the entity to call upon, and even if she did, fighting it here would certainly draw more attention than was wise. There was a way around this, but she hesitated; trusting others was not a strong suit of hers, and she had never summoned any creature from the abyss without taking precautions. But her time with Konrad had shown her the benefits of having faith in others, and she knew that she really didn’t have a choice.

Without fanfare, a binding circle, or protection of any kind, Serena called the name Malan had given her.

Harper the imp popped into existence on the floor in front of her and looked around slowly. "No bindings," he stated in a low voice.

"I’m trying to be more trusting."

Harper sniffed the air. "Witches' house, not yours though, smells like dirt." The imp froze, and Serena thought she caught a moment of uncertain flicker on his face. "There’s two witches up there, and one of them reeks of the abyss, archdemons at least. What have you gotten yourself into?"

"She’s with me, I think. I just need to get through this door and deal with whatever is on the other side."

The imp rubbed his hands together eagerly, but Serena held up a finger to forestall him.

"Malan said you would help me for free," she said, emphasizing the final words.

Harper grumbled and wandered over to the door, knocking on the stone gently with a clawed hand and listening for something in the sound it produced.

"I’ll open the door and have a chat, but then I’m gone, right?" Harper clarified, and Serena folded her arms and nodded.

With a lazy flap of his wings, Harper hovered in front of the image and coughed politely.

"Ahem, mind opening up?" He asked.

"That’s it?" Serena said.

"That's the first part; hold on to your handbag," Harper replied.

The stone door trembled, motes of dust falling gently from the top. It opened with a low grinding of stone, and a smell like rotting plants wafted out. The floor, walls, and ceiling of the chamber inside were covered with thick creepers, and the whole organism seemed to be breathing. A dozen thick vines whipped out before Serena could react and wrapped tightly around her body, while Harper leaned back against the doorframe and inspected his claws.

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"Don’t just stand there; find out what it wants," Serena gasped, trying to keep the constricting tentacles from crushing her.

The imp started to chatter casually in abyssal while Serena was slowly being crushed to death.

"It wants to be free of the woman with the cutting sheers," Harper explained.

The only way to do that was to make the Wikkan Seat give up control of the demon or kill her. Either way was distasteful to Serena; making deals with demons was risky business, and they would always find a way to call in their bill.

The room was filled with treasures, books, cabinets, and scrolls. Powerful objects glowed all around her, and on a plinth at the back was a large, cracked Hedron. The answers that Jena had given her life to seek were right there.

"I agree," she gasped.

The creeping vines retracted, and Serena was deposited on the floor, gasping for breath.

"Good luck, witchy," Harper said, touching his forelock and disappearing.

Serena stumbled to the back of the chamber and seized the Hedron, stuffing it into her bag. It was about the size of a large orange but much heavier than the ones on Mir had been. She looked around at the other treasures in the room but shook her head, a thirst for powerful objects was toxic and often led to the objects owning you.

When she got to the top of the staircase, she froze. The sentry statues had been activated, and now two giant vultures prowled the corridor, flexing their wings and snapping at each other with their cruel beaks, blocking her escape.

"Magra, I have it. I’m leaving." Serena sent the message and slipped into the villa. Relying on the memory of her previous visit, she should be able to slip through the garden courtyard and out double back to the small side gate.

Magra hadn’t replied by the time Serena entered the courtyard, and she quickly found out why. The Wikkan Seat stood by the main gate of the villa. Her hair was in disarray, and she was breathing heavily. The thin body of Magra lay on the floor beside her, unmoving.

"I don’t know what she told you, but she was lying," Agatha said, gesturing to Magra’s body.

Serena took a calming breath. "I know enough; the witches helped create the Echo. Magra, Lindra and Jena were searching for the truth. What I don’t understand is why you wanted to stop them?"

Agatha spread her hands in a gesture of peace that was slightly ruined by the bloodstain on one of them. "You have to listen to me; Magra is working with an archdemon in the abyss; her tales about the Faelen Echo are lies. Your sister Jena was fooled."

Serena had been listening intently, her head swimming with theories, but at the mention of Jena being fooled, she smiled. Jena would not have been fooled. She could have been the Wikkan Seat herself, but she knew it would only have restricted her.

Agatha seemed to read the answer in Serena's expression because her eyebrows furrowed and her fingers flexed.

Tentacle-like vines shot out of the garden and ensnared Serena as the guardian of the chamber below was once again called forth by Agatha. "You and Magra think yourselves untouchable; you are not the only witches who can treat with the demons."

"Tell me the real reason you stopped their research," Serena said as the vines tightened around her.

"We are witches!" Agatha screamed, spittle flying from her mouth. "The Faelen are gone, and if we put them there, then those that came before us had a good reason to do so. I will not have the ignominy of being the Wikkan Seat who undid their work. No one should dare to question us, and you will not question me. Submit to my judgment, or I will order you taken to the abyss."

The Wikkan seat's attention was focused on Serena, and she did not see the black void open up behind the unconscious body of Magra. A well-dressed archdemon with the legs of a goat and twisting horns on his head stooped and picked Magra up, winking at Serena before retreating into the darkness.

Serena was suffocating; her magic was being hampered by the tentacles that wrapped around her throat and arms. Despite knowing the consequences, with the last of her breath, she called the name that had been scrawled into the walls and floor of the coldest mountain.

Another black void, at least twenty feet wide, opened up above the garden, releasing a wind of screeching voices. The demonic behemoth that had tried to pull Konrad into the abyss on the top of the Coldest Mountain dropped out, its hooves cracking the flagstones of the courtyard. Half man, half bear, and half pig, it reared its head and gave a mighty bellow that rent the air.

The Wikkan seat stumbled backwards, knocking into the spindly table and falling onto her back. She screamed at the tentacled demon under her control, but the creature made of vines shrank back in fear, dropping Serena to the floor.

Serena gently smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress and took a deep, calming breath, tucking some stray hair back behind her ears. "The problem with most witches is that they think they can control the abyss. You set your little traps and kept them as pets, but it's actually rather more simple; you just have to bring the biggest demon, and be willing to pay the cost."

Agatha screamed, and a furious twisting wind of fire and shadows whipped from her hands, reaching hungry for Serena, but before it hit her, a small figure flapped down on leathery wings and inhaled the fire and the shadow.

Harper landed on the gate, thumped his chest, and burped out a small puff of smoke.

The behemoth demon clamped down on the plump Wikkan Seat, picking her up in one of its mighty fists. Agatha beat her own fists on the huge forearm of the beast and screamed a string of curses as she was pulled into the void, which closed with a sound like the air had been sucked out of the garden. Then there was silence in the courtyard.

"That was one of the big ones; that’s going to cost you," the imp said, fluttering down and examining the cracked flagstones.

"I know, I know," Serena snapped, rubbing the small of her back and wincing. This is why studies in the abyssal plane are discouraged. Witches who use demons to fight their battles summon bigger and bigger entities, and soon the price becomes too high. "And don’t think about trying to bill me for "services rendered" or anything like that; I didn’t ask you to come back."

Harper kicked a small pebble, a frown on his small face. "Normally I wouldn’t have bothered, but it's that blasted champion Konrad; he just makes you want to be all noble, you know what I mean?"

The imp disappeared, and Serena walked over to where Magra had been lying. Whatever took her was from the same dark place that she had just sent the Wikkan Seat; perhaps the aged witch had made one deal to many.

Serena made it back to the inn and checked in on the sleeping Paabo. He wouldn’t remember a thing about the previous night, but he had drunk enough ale to sink a battleship. Sitting next to the gently snoring dwarf, Serena turned the Hedron around in her hands. What she needed was someone who could handle powerful magic, and thankfully, she knew just the trouper.