The Enchantress (The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel)

descend from the air, while six would march through the jungle. It would still take them two days to reach Danu Talis. And no one knew what they would find when they arrived.
    Scathach had refused to join the others in the battered circular vimana. There was something she had to do—and she couldn’t afford to be trapped onboard the ship. She had insisted on strapping on the pair of glider wings and launching herself from a branch out into the sky, knowing with absolute confidence that she would be able to master the required skill. She had learned to swim the same way—by jumping into the icy depths off Skye and flapping about in the water until she started to float.
    Scathach circled the vimana and waved again. Joan waved back. Prometheus was too busy struggling with the controls to notice; Will and Palamedes watched him anxiously. Only Saint-Germain seemed completely relaxed, hunched on the floor, writing in his notebook. Scathach hoped he survived to finish his symphony: she had a feeling it would be epic.
    The Warrior took one last look at her friends, and then she allowed the wind to take her, pulling her higher and higher. When she knew the others would not be able to see her, she banked to the right and descended, falling through the sky, toward the outskirts of the city.

CHAPTER FIFTY
    NICHOLAS FLAMEL’S HAND flared into a green glove, and a solid ball of energy buzzed and spat in the palm of his hand. He drew back his arm and was about to throw the ball at the Morrigan when Perenelle suddenly grabbed his forearm. “Wait!”
    “Wait?” Nicholas looked at his wife, confused.
    The Sorceress was gazing intently at the black-cloaked figure. “You’re not the Morrigan, are you?”
    “This is the Morrigan, the Crow Goddess,” Nicholas insisted. The ball of energy spinning in his hand was starting to shrink.
    The hooded figure standing before them raised her head. Her pale face was framed by the hood, and when she spoke, traces of an Irish or Scottish accent were clearly audible. Her eyes were closed. “The Morrigan is still sleeping,” she said, and opened her eyes. They were bloodred. “At this moment, I am the Badb.”
    The creature’s eyes slowly closed, then blinked open. Now they were a bright yellow. “And now I am Macha.” The Celtic accent was even stronger, and deeper, harsher.
    The creature’s eyes closed once more, and when they opened, one was a lustrous red, the other a brilliant yellow. Two voices rolled from the same mouth, the sounds buzzing slightly out of sync with one another.
    “And we are the Morrigan’s sisters. We are the Crow Goddess.”
    Nicholas looked from the creature to his wife, eyebrows arching in a question.
    “They are three in one,” she explained. “Like the three aspects of Hekate, but the Morrigan, Macha and the Badb are three separate personalities existing within the same flesh. Centuries ago, the Morrigan took over the other two, trapped them within her.” She smiled. “I released them, and now it is the Morrigan who is trapped within.”
    The Crow Goddess smiled, sharp white teeth pressing against her black lips. “You should hope that she never escapes, Sorceress. She is not very happy with you.”
    Nicholas closed his hand into a fist and his green aura sank back into his flesh, emerald fluid running down his arm like ink.
    “Thank you for saving me,” Perenelle said.
    “Thank you for freeing us,” the Crow Goddess said quickly.
    “To be truthful, I never thought I’d see you again”—the Sorceress spread her arms—“especially not back here.”
    “We had not planned for it either,” the Crow Goddess said. She turned toward the Powerhouse, her feathered cloak whispering along the ground. “This is . . .
wrong
.”
    Nicholas and Perenelle looked at one another. “Wrong?”
    “We are Next Generation,” the creature said. “We grew up in the terrible days after the Fall of Danu Talis. It was clear to us then—and it should have been clear to our sister—that the Elders were the architects of their own destruction. They had grown lazy and arrogant, and that helped destroy their world. They believed the people worshipped them as gods, but in reality, humankind despised and feared them. We weren’t there, but we heard the stories of the human uprising often enough.” A black-nailed claw pointed back toward the Powerhouse. “If these beasts get ashore, the Elders will return to this earth and the cycle of destruction will begin