Claire swore as she slid across a patch of hard black diamond. Light reflected every direction and her eyes ached from the glare and the impossible colours of the Rift above her. She hunched her shoulders against the wind and kept going. Calls echoed behind her and she wondered what the soldiers were doing. Had someone recovered their wits and raised the alarm? Were Eidan’s men after her even now?

She risked a glance over her shoulder and nearly cried out, the sickening wave in her stomach vanishing. Jemroth and Lotte supported Gareth as they crossed the barren landscape coming towards her. They’d escaped after all.

Lotte raised a hand to shade her eyes, her face white as she stared at Claire. “Wait for us,” she called out.

But Claire was already grinning and running back to them lopsidedly thanks to the cut in her foot. “How did you escape Eidan’s men?” she asked as she reached them. In the distance, an eldritch mist blanketed the camp. Two shadowy figures stumbled beyond its foggy tendrils. Marcus supporting Lord Dorran.

Jemroth paused for breath, muscles straining. “If it hadn’t been for Lotte’s quick thinking, we’d all be dead.” He shot his erstwhile enemy a genuine smile. With tired grunts, he and Lotte began to walk forward again, half-carrying Gareth between them. Jemroth glanced at Claire. “She closed off their air supply again.”

“Then the Crian and her Melinor came to help me,” said Lotte. “It was them as scared most of the guards away.”

“It wasn’t just them that came,” Jemroth said, his eyes full of wonder and joy. “I saw them properly, my gnomes, I mean. They helped us because finally they must recognise me as a true member of House Domain. The Mer-people were there too, and even some salamanders, but, Claire, I saw the gnomes. I’m going to find the Gofannon when this is over with. I know it.”

Claire couldn’t help but find his hope infectious. “And now Eidan’s dead. We’ve almost achieved everything we set out to do.”

Gareth barely reacted but the others smiled in tired relief as they trudged on, Claire barely keeping pace as she limped beside them.

“We saw ya runnin’ out of his tent at record speed,” Lotte said, her voice straining from physical exertion, “so we followed ya. Only, we didn’t know what to do about Gareth. He’s been floppy, pale and weak since his vial smashed.”

“You know he’ll die unless he goes home soon,” Jemroth said quietly, his former excitement evaporating like it had never existed. He glanced at Lotte and the pair halted, chests heaving.

“He can’t die,” Claire whispered on the verge of tears at the thought of her friend leaving Kelnarium forever. “We need him.” Her distress knotted her stomach. It wasn’t fair. Gareth was her age. He deserved to live a full life.

Gareth looked up, eyes shadowed. “I might as well use the last of my energy on one final spell. Don’t feel bad for me. I’ve accepted my fate. I had long ago when the Mer-people first told me this might be my end.”

Claire pulled herself together. He was right. They had a job to do. “Then let’s get going. It would have been easier with Gwenivere and the others, but we can’t wait any longer.”

They picked their way slowly and carefully across the cold, hard ground, pausing for breath and for Jemroth and Lotte to adjust their grip on Gareth every now and then. Soon, they stood directly under the Rift, the sky glowering and a massive crack filled with smoke sitting above them like a yawning mouth. They placed Gareth down carefully, then Jemroth and Lotte stood back, looking at Claire.

“We’ve come so far,” Claire said slowly, “and overcome hate and fear and prejudice. Let’s stand together at the end as good friends. No matter what happens next, that mattered.” She paused, looking at each member of the group in turn. A weary Jemroth first, then sickly Gareth, his head slumping forward over his lap, and finally Lotte, who stood straight and tall and whose gaze never faltered. And then she looked away and set her gaze up at the blazing black smoking crack in the sky, surrounded by a patchwork quilt of colour. “Well,” she said. “It’s time to look death in the eye.”

Stolen story; please report.

She sank to the ground next to Gareth, placing a hand on his knee. Her stomach was hollow with hunger, but they were nowhere near supplies. She had energy for this last working and then she was done. The others sat facing Claire and each other, reaching out to hold hands. Directly above, ribbons of colour dazzled her vision.

Claire squinted at the crack with trepidation. If she stood on tiptoe and stretched, she felt as though she could almost grasp the inside of the Rift. Her stomach somersaulted at the thought of the Beast attacking, but it couldn’t be helped. This time, she’d be ready. She tried to push thoughts of Sleath and magic spiralling out of control back of mind too. What happened would happen. She couldn’t keep second guessing the future. “Let’s begin,” she said.

“If we don’t make it ...” Lotte said.

“Our elementals watch over us. We’ll be fine.” Claire was proud that her firm voice made her sound braver than she felt.

The group closed their eyes. Claire pushed thoughts of Marcus, of her parents and of her grandfather away. Her mind had to be blank. Her chest rose and fell. In and out. In and out. In and out.

She opened her eyes to the spirit plane as she heard the rushed click of her learth thread leaving her body. She concentrated on joining with Jemroth first, then Gareth, his thread fainter than she’d ever seen it. Finally, she turned her attention to Lotte. Gingerly, she wove the exile’s thread into their rope. As soon as all four minds were joined, Claire forced herself to stare deep into the pit of the Rift. Yellows and reds and blues mingled at its edges.

Power tingled through her, sending charges of electricity through her body. Her head felt clearer than it had in days. Hunger and thirst and exhaustion faded. She drew on everyone’s combined learth and aimed up into the heart of the Rift.

With a rush of wind, the Beast came, an enormous mud coloured creature in the sky. It considered the thread glittering in front of it. For tense seconds, it hovered, surrounded by glistening light, then dove directly into them. Heavy and fetid, it cackled with delight as Claire screamed at what felt like hundreds of glass pieces splintering in her head. Nails drove through her mind and her hold on the others slipped, cords unravelling around her and whipping left and right with wild abandon.

-I have you at last- the Beast chortled as Claire soared upward into the shattering colours of the Rift.

-Remember Kelt, Claire- Gareth sounded, faint and far away as the last of his blue skeins undid from Claire. -Hold on-

How could Claire have forgotten her task? She tried to regain her hold on the others but even as she made the attempt, their threads slid like oil through her mind.

-Concentrate- Jemroth sounded desperately, clutching tight.

She reached deep within herself, knowing there’d be no second chances to get this right. Gareth, Jemroth and Lotte’s lives were in her hands. She couldn’t fail them. Just as she managed to forge their threads back into a braided line, The Beast began to laugh.

–Betrayer. Your time is up-

Claire screwed her eyes up tighter and shook her head defiantly. Somehow, she managed to find her voice through her exhaustion as she angled the learth directly at the mad creature.

-No. Yours is-

With all of her might she shot a steady stream of flames its way, the others’ air and mist and rock woven into it, the taste of fresh mint and cooking meat, wet loam and sea salt itching at her nostrils.

The Beast screamed on impact. Colour fractured as it swelled tall and for a second Claire thought they’d failed. Then, in a great burst of sparks and brown muck wisping away, the thing began to disintegrate.

Elation sang through her veins. Claire was so close. She pictured some of her happiest moments; the accomplishment she’d felt learning learth with Maen, the way it had felt to have Lotte stick by her, Gareth’s kind face when she’d made a terrible mistake at Maellwyn Manor, Jemroth sharing his love of horses with her and showing her how to drive the cart, the way all four of them had banded together despite so much violence. As the joy swelled within her, so did learth power. She pictured bushfires and campfires and grates and matches and candles and turned them all hot, then cold. A fierce grin spreading, she aimed them all directly into the chasm of the Rift, as remnants of the Beast floated first this way, then that, ineffectual at last.

With a loud crack and the smell of sulphur and charred flesh, the rent across the skyline slowly, painfully, started to slide shut. Claire waited until only a lightly limned sliver remained before ending the spell and releasing the others, collapsing alongside her friends.