When the falling momentum stopped, they landed on hard ground. Through the opalescent light of the moon and the absence of mist above, Cassandra could see it now. The thing that had dragged her down. It was shaped vaguely like a very tall man, and its long grey arms and legs were covered with matted hair and mud. A terrible stench arose from it. Its feet were clawed like a bird's, but the knobbly fingers which had locked with such strength on her ankle ended in long twisted nails. Then the moonlight shone on its face, and she screamed again, for it had no face, only an open, gaping wound of a mouth, with pendulous wattles of skin hanging below.

Owlyn brought back the herbs. Cassandra grounded them into a paste and applied it to the sorceress's wound. The Czarevna was less restless now and her breathing had evened out before she fell asleep again. "Now what are we going to do?" Cassandra whispered softly in despair, her worried eyes kept staring at Vasilisa's pale face. The owl looked at her with a gentle surprise.

"Oh, how I miss coming to the sun-drench island of Spain." Florence took a lungful of fresh air. She stepped out of the private jet that had landed at the Canary Island's international airport. The second person to follow was Clare. It was her first time on a private jet. She was still getting used to the special treatments that came with her status, but she was trying to be mindful and kept close to Florence.The whole flight was a smooth and easy journey, and Violet spent the entirety of it quietly working away on her laptop. If she wasn't typing, she was speaking on the phone. The Duchess dove straight to her wo