Then the very air parted.
Maria looked into a dark void, yet it moved as if it were gelatinous. Screams of pain and confusion escaped through the hole, only to be drowned out by the rumbling of an oncoming storm.
She and the Widow were equally stunned.
They were looking into the world in between, into a chasm in the fabric of reality that had settled between them.
The Widow scrabbled over Odarth’s body and came straight for Maria. Her green eyes burned brighter than before.
“Hey!” Maria shouted toward the world in between. “I have what you want. Hey!”
Nothing came.
The Widow laughed as she came up the stone steps, to the dais where Maria stood.
“Nice try, witch,” the Widow spat. “But my power knows no bounds. Once I devour you, making sure you’re digested alive, and suffocating slowly inside of me, I shall be reunited with my king.”
No. It can’t end like this. It’s not my destiny.
Still the Widow came.
Maria held her sword in her right hand, and the music box in her left, and braced herself. If she was going to die, she would take the Widow down with her.
As the Widow thundered up the last two steps of the dais, wisps of black smoke stretched forth from the opening. The screaming grew louder, more pained. The fingers turned into arms, the arms into a torso and body that rivaled the Widow in size.
Now, Maria heard in her mind. Now!
The voice could’ve been her own; it could’ve been Gramps, or even Anwyn, as he had spoken to her in Ashbourne. But it was a reminder of what Maria had intended to do when the black mist came from the world in between.
Now or never, that voice came again. Now or die. She realized it was a combination of all the voices that had guided her: Gramps, Agnes, Salem, her mother, Sherlock, Anwyn—all of them, every one.
Maria slammed her sword down into the stone, hard enough to bury the blade nearly half a foot into the platform. The sword merged with Maria’s magic and formed a shimmering bubble of protection.
The mist lunged forward from the world in between, and grabbed the Widow as if she were what it wanted all along.
The queen let out a strangled cry, and the fire in her eyes was replaced with something else.
Fear.
With a clashing cacophony of thunder and screams, the Widow disappeared, along with the black mist.
It was satisfied.
For now.
Maria fell to her knees. The fear had almost been too much. She would’ve knelt there for as long as it took for her to regain her composure, but she knew she couldn’t. The world in between was there, right before her eyes. This was her chance to get those from the village out—she couldn’t let it pass her by.
Releasing the sword and leaving the bubble of protection, Maria walked over to the gash in reality. She closed her eyes and reached out to those who needed saving. Being from Dominion, she shared a connection with them, one that grew stronger the closer she got and the more she let her magic reach out for her.
But magic wasn’t enough.
Gritting her teeth, she put her hand through the portal. The gelatinous texture of the world in between was cold and shocking, but most prominently, wrong.
For a long moment, she felt nothing—which was both a disappointment and a relief. She feared the darkness would return, still hungry, floating like heavy fog through a graveyard, ready to take her into purgatory.
A hand took hers. She pushed down her fear and pulled with all her might.
Out came an older man, with a beard cut close to his skin, as gray as his hair. He was dressed in the attire of Dominion that she had seen in Duke’s vision. The man took a deep breath. “Maria, you’ve grown,” he said. Then he looked back at the world in between. “There are four more.”
“Five? That’s all?” Maria asked, surprised.
The man nodded sadly. “I’m afraid so, but they’re close. We knew you were coming. Oh, it’s so sweet to breathe Oriceran air once more.”
Maria shook her head. Five in total. They’re all that was left to save.
She went back to the rift. Another hand filled hers. She pulled a woman free; holding this woman’s other hand was a second woman, younger than the first.
“Hi, nice to meet you. We’ll have plenty of time to catch up soon,” Maria said.
She noticed the opening to the world in between was growing smaller.
She plunged in again, and out came another woman, her hair long and blonde, like silk honey. “Save Parmella! You have to,” the newcomer urged.
“Working on it,” Maria grunted. Her magic was wearing off, causing her head to spin.
Last one, Maria. Come on. You can do it.
In her hand went, but the opening shrank before her eyes. She shoved her other hand in, trying to stop it, but knew she couldn’t. Soon the portal would close, and it wouldn’t care if Maria’s arms were in or out.
She wouldn’t give up, though. It was not in her DNA.
Something brushed her fingers. Maria stretched farther, straining with the movement. A hand seized her own, and once more Maria yanked.
It wasn’t going to be enough.
On Oriceran, however, the Dominoners wrapped around Maria’s torso and pulled. The last woman came out with a scream, falling forward as the portal snapped shut and the magic wore off.
Maria was nearly crushed by the force at which the woman came out.
Maria was coughing, trying to catch her breath. “You must be Parmella. Nice to meet you.” She stuck her hand out for a proper handshake.
The lady looked at Maria’s hand, her bushy black hair plastered to her forehead with what looked like sweat and gel. She let out a sob and wrapped her arms around the young witch. “Thank you. Thank you so much!” Parmella cried.
Maria, barely able to breathe because the woman was squeezing her so hard, hugged her back. “Don’t mention it,” she said in a hoarse whisper.
