The crossbow lowered at the sight of long hair and feminine features.

The portal above shimmered and dissipated into gray sky.

The ashes of the demons swirled above the heads of Ronken and Meryn, and the smoky air began to clear of all but the stench of burning oil and flesh.

The crossbow raised once again.

"That's a nasty bite," the fairy said, flitting over Ronken's ankle. "It's probably poisoned. You're probably going to die now. Don't worry, death isn't so bad, it --" The fairy suddenly dropped like a stone into Ronken's lap, one wing torn to shreds. A crossbow bolt had whizzed past, and plunked into the roof beside Meryn's hand.

The barrier was gone; there was nothing between them and the hooded figure that notched another bolt.

Outside the city, the beam of light disintegrated, and the portal was completely gone. The bombs had stopped erupting; the guns had stopped shooting. Somewhere in the distance, a woman sobbed. Fire crackled in the window of the next building over. The demons on the clock tower were gone, and so was the girl.

The bell that hung from Meryn's neck grew warmer, and it shimmered with a gentle glow. Meryn would feel a distinct pressure in her skull, like a foreign thought trying to force its way in. [i]North,[/i] it said. There was a desperation behind the thought -- an abstract knowledge that the world, teetering on a precipice, could collapse at any moment.

The crumpled and soggy letter still lay unopened between them.

[hr]

"Hey what?" The kid sloshed back, his head craned to see where Emma had gone. "No -- hey what's wrong with you, not that way!" He grit his teeth and chased her down. "You're gonna get caught by the Cabal!"

He skidded to a stop just as a statue appeared out of the gloom ahead: a man standing on a short pedestal, with a staff in one hand and a book in the other. Atop his head was a sculpted stone crow, its wings splayed and contorted into a strange headdress. The man's eyes had been painted white.

The boy refused to pass that statue -- as if the darkness beyond it were a certain death. "Come back!" he hissed, frightened of being heard.

The compass lit the way forward.

Should she continue to venture into the dark past the statue, the slick slush under Emma's feet would turn to a carpet of thick grass.

The slimy stone walls slowly gave way to strings and coils of roots, and then leaves appeared as Emma walked. Soon, she was moving through a green growing corridor, filled with rich leafy vines, strange white blooms, and dangling violet flowers that clung to the ceiling. All of it had been growing in complete darkness.

A light flickered ahead: a small room at the end of the corridor and a clearing in the forested sewer. A wide oil lamp sat on a bed of stones at the center, burning brightly. A crucible was set in a metal frame above the flame; a purplish liquid bubbled inside that filled the leafy room with a scent like oranges and honey.

The next barren hallway stretched away to the right. At the end of it shone a glimmer of sunlight.

No one was around.