Warped (Maurissa Guibord)

"Amber," she whispered. The key was a piece of amber. A piece of petrified, ancient sap. Sap that held a tiny fragment of wood from an ancient tree.
    Tessa raised her hand toward the luminous stone. "The key," she gasped.
    "Yes! I hold the key and the power," shouted Gray Lily. "Can you feel it, girl? Can you feel your life spinning away from you?"
    With a faint cry Tessa reached up and grabbed Gray Lily's hand. She tried to pull the ring away, but the cold was filling her, spreading from her core to her fingertips. Tessa could hear her own pulse pounding in her ears. It was slowing, as if her blood were freezing solid. Her heart felt like a tumbling block of ice. Tessa saw a flicker of something smoky drifting around Gray Lily's hand, around the ring. The smoke was pale blue.
    Gray Lily was pulling her thread.
    "Hugh," Tessa cried out. "Help me! Please."
    "Moncrieff," shouted Gray Lily. "Hold her still." She glared at Tessa and her lovely face twisted into a horrible, furrowed caricature of a woman's. "I'm going to cast you off!" screamed Gray Lily. "You'll go into the Void, into a forever of nothing. Go. Drown in blackness."
    As she heard Gray Lily's words, a pinprick of black swam before Tessa's eyes and swelled. And then she saw it. She saw the Void. The cold, black vastness of it stretched out before her, and she could feel it. The ravenous loneliness. The crushing weight of ... nothing.
    A sudden movement flashed off to Tessa's side. She felt a shiver pass through Gray Lily's hand, felt the witch's grip loosen for just an instant. But it was enough. Tessa reeled back as Gray Lily's hold on her thread was broken. The pain lifted from Tessa's chest, and she saw the blackness of the Void retract and wink out.
    Gray Lily grunted and looked down at herself. A spear protruded from the green silk of her gown. Blood oozed around the wooden shaft. Her head shot up and she stared across the span of it at her henchman. "Moncrieff," she choked out.
    "My name," Hugh gasped, still holding the other end of the spear, "is Hugh de Chaucy."
    "You know you can't kill me," snarled Gray Lily. She winced.
    "No. But I can hold you for a little while. You took my brother from me, you cursed bitch." Hugh twisted the spear and shoved it deeper into Gray Lily's gut. Fire raged in his eyes. "Get the key, Tessa."
    Still wracked with pain, Tessa reached for Gray Lily's hand. She grabbed the ring and pulled.
    With a shriek Gray Lily wrenched her hand away, sending Tessa sprawling to the ground. Gray Lily twisted, trying to loosen herself from Hugh de Chaucy's spear. Her elegant form looked like a worm writhing on a hook. Finally she narrowed her eyes and gripped the spear, then lifted it, still protruding from her body. She tossed Hugh into the air as easily as she would have thrown a rag doll. He fell in a crumpled, splayed heap yards away. Tessa looked back at Gray Lily with horror as the witch took hold of the spear and wrenched it out of her side with one sharp motion. It was true; Hugh couldn't kill her, Tessa thought weakly. Nothing could kill her.
    Through the trees Tessa could see the glowing orb of the moon. The light washed over the grass, giving it a sparkling sheen. Gray Lily whirled on Tessa. "Now you die," she gasped. She held out her hand. And stared. Gray Lily's middle finger was empty. Tessa looked down into her own cupped palm. The amber ring glowed up at her. She hadn't even felt it. She slipped it on her finger. "No. I don't think so," Tessa answered breathlessly. Without thinking, she reached out her hand.
    A look of stark terror filled Gray Lily's face. That was when Tessa saw it: a faint purple shadow hovering near the wound in her side. Tessa peered at the shimmering form; it looked like waves of heat rising from a hot highway, or wisps of steam from a cooling but still-warm teakettle.
    It was Gray Lily's thread.
    Somewhere in the distance Tessa heard Gray Lily's screaming curse, but she hardly noticed. She stepped closer. Slowly a purple vapor was coiling out from Gray Lily and winding toward her. Tessa had no craft, no words, no potions. But she could feel that thread. She concentrated her whole mind on the faint, wispy substance. Come to me , she told it. She knew it would. She could already feel the livid color of it, the texture of it in her fingers. She took hold of it and felt warmth glide along her arm.
    "Let go of me!" screeched Gray Lily. Her demeanor changed; she wore the expression of a cringing,