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Ágota lets out a small gasp. Throwing a stricken look over her shoulder at me and her father, she whispers, “Can I stop now?”

Balázs shakes his head. “Finish it, Ágota.”

A quick thrust of both her hands results in all the living soldiers rising into the air. Ágota holds them aloft, her body trembling. The magic continues to pour through me and into her. I am awed that she can absorb so much and use it to her will. Though I have always known she was powerful, her magic is breathtaking.

Cheeks wet with tears, Ágota turns to face us again. Behind her, the men flail, their bodies twisting about as they attempt to return to the ground. Screams of terror fill the air as the men continue to ascend past the treetops. Below them the camp burns, spewing forth black smoke to smear the winter sky.

“I do this for you,” Ágota whispers.

I realize she is speaking to me.

With a sharp movement, she clasps her hands together, and lightning crackles around her. The men slam into one another, forming a ball of human bodies which is then smashed into the ground. The earth roils and churns, dragging down everything, the dead, dying, and still living, consuming the entire camp in seconds.

Only the horses remain.

I blink and we are in the center of the circle in the castle great hall again. My feet are on the stone floor and the reek of burning flesh is gone. Ágota stands in the center of the coven for a few seconds before her eyes roll back revealing the whites of her eyes and she collapses to the floor. Balázs surges forward, raising his hands to ward off the people attempting to come to her aide.

“Let us properly close the circle,” he commands.

The coven obeys.

“Release the power,” he intones.

The witches bow their heads.

“Open the circle,” he continues.

The witches take a step back, breaking physical contact with the person next to them.

“Go forth in peace,” he finishes.

The witches move apart, but only long enough for the power of the circle to dissipate. They flow as one toward us.

Fülöp grips Soffia’s arm. “What happened?”

“She is the Archwitch! I have never seen such power! She smote them all! She wielded all four elements and did not falter. Only after the enemy was destroyed did she release the magic and fall into a stupor.” Soffia’s words surprise me, for she is obviously elated, her true young face glowing with joy.

As she explains what happened to the curious coven, Balázs collects Ágota from the floor. Holding her like he would a child, he hurries from the great hall. I follow close behind.

“Is she hurt?” I ask agitatedly. Anger still burns in my chest against him for forcing my sister into battle.

“Spent,” Balázs answers. “We did not grant her enough time to prepare for battle and she overexerted herself. She will be fine after she rests.”

“She spared the horses,” I blurt out. “You cannot leave them out there.”

“I will have someone claim them,” Balázs assures me before hesitating at the bottom step of a stairwell. “Did it upset you, Erjy? To see all those men die?”

I lower my eyes and lie. “Yes.”

“It had to be done, you understand.”

“Yes, I do.”

When we arrive in the bedroom I share with Ágota, Balázs lays her on the bed. “Stay with her. I need to return to the coven. Once they hear the full story of Ágota’s victory from Soffia, there will be much discussion.”

“She proved herself,” I say defensively.

“Yes, she did. It will change for the better now. I am certain.” Balázs kisses my forehead. “Stay here with her. I will come when I can.”