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Pushing myself upright, I sit on the flagstone courtyard where we have landed and survey my surroundings. Banners with the flaming tree flutter in the morning breeze over the battlements. The sky is grows steadily brighter, an assuring sign that we are not in the Witch World. We are safe for Ágota has brought the estate into reality.

The black cat appears on my lap and rubs its nose against mine. I detect its approval from the loud purr and kneading paws.

“We are home,” Balázs grunts, climbing to his feet.

The black cat leaps off my lap and joins the other familiars that rush to rub against Balázs’s legs.

“She did brought forth the estate,” someone whispers in awe.

As the witches rouse themselves, I seek out Ágota among them. I observe her sprawled face-down in the center of the broken protection circle. Worry for her wellbeing chokes me as I crawl toward her. Did I fail her? Has she been drained of her power? Will it take her a decade to recover like our mother after she brought the castle through?

“Ágota! Ágota!” I call out.

The familiars scamper past me and climb over her prone body, meowing loudly. With a grunt, she rolls onto her back and blinks, scattering the furry creatures.

“Ágota! Are you well?” I exclaim, reaching her.

With a grin, she stares at the castle towers. “I did it!”

“Is it truly done?”

“This place is woven into the fabric of this world. This is our home now,” she answers. Her eyes flick toward me. Veins in her eyes have broken, turning them red. I realize then how pale she appears and thinner still. She has paid a high price.

“And the portal?”

“Closed. On their hideous faces. They almost breached it,” Ágota answers, exhaustion in her gaze. “You gave me the strength to finish the task.”

Balázs descends on us, falls to his knees, and sweeps us into his embrace. “My beautiful daughters have brought us to a new home!”

The familiars rub against us, purring loudly with approval.

“Ágota did well,” I say with pride.

“I could not have done it without you,” my sister says, her fingers gently caressing my cheek. “You are the one who pulled the magic from the ruins and fed it to me just in time. Without you, I would have failed.”

Relieved, delighted, but weakened by our ritual, the witches slowly stand around us. The familiars scamper after Balázs as he hurries to check on each witch. I remain with Ágota, my arms around her as we watch the dawning of a new day. We shed our cloaks, for the air is warm. Ágota opens her bag to store them, but hesitates. Reaching inside, she draws the stone she took from the ruins to the edge of the bag so it will remain hidden from the others.

“Is it drained, too?” I ask in a whisper.

She shakes her head. “The bag protected it. This is the last bit of magic from our home.” Hastily, she shoves it inside before storing away the cloaks.

“What will you do with it?”

A small frown forms on her forehead as her gaze grows secretive.

“Ágota? Why do you look so pensive?”

“There are many paths before you. This bit of magic will make certain that I can find you,” she answers.

“Find me? Why would we be parted? I do not understand.”

“You do not have to as long as I am watching over you,” Ágota replies with a wink. She stands and pulls me to my feet. “Now, shall we explore our new home?”

Before I can answer, I open my eyes to darkness.

I have returned to the mausoleum.

The terrible and familiar pain of my captivity returns, and my hand grips the stake.