The children awoke to the sound of church bells, far away; a lovely, soft and comfortable way to wake. Beth had to lay for a few minutes longer to figure out what she was hearing. Chris smiled, but in his usual fashion, he did not want to get up right away. James felt hungry. He always ate a good breakfast. David, with the nightmare journey completely behind him, only remembered his wonderful dream about elves and fairies.

“Get up boy.” David heard the words and sat straight up in bed to find Inaros looking down on him. He realized it had not been a dream. “Sleep all day ‘oft gang aglay,” Inaros said, and though it did not entirely make sense, the tone was clear. David got up.

Beth looked for a change of clothes, but there weren’t any. She looked for her own clothes, but they were not to be found, either.

“No, dear.” Mrs. Aster fluttered there. “Just think to freshen your clothes and then shape them and color them as you wish.” Beth did that, with a deep grin, and thought that she might never have to do laundry again.

“Yeah, yeah.” Mister Deathwalker seemed inclined to agree with Chris. He would not have minded a few more winks himself; but Chris got up, and having overheard Mrs. Aster’s instructions, Mister Deathwalker thought he ought to say something, too. “Freshen up and let’s eat.”

“Why?” Chris asked about the freshening, not the eating.

Mrs. Copperpot outdid herself with the rich variety and quality of breakfast choices. The children tended toward the sweet rolls and Danish type dishes, but James had some eggs, and Chris liked the sausage. Even finicky eater David had more than enough to keep his face stuffed.

 “Maybe we should have shown them before they ate,” Deathwalker said, suddenly. The three little spirits looked at him as if in agreement, but then Mrs. Copperpot appeared to change her mind and shook her head.

“Even that one can’t upset my good cooking,” she decided.

“See what?” Beth asked.

“What we’re up against,” Chris guessed, and the spirits nodded.

“We?” David asked.

“Of course, boy.” Inaros eyed the young man with a knowing eye. “We may be old and all that rot, but once more into the breach, say what?” David just swallowed and nodded.

“Better get it over before Davey changes his mind,” James teased.

“Not funny!” David’s words sounded sharp, even if he knew his brother was only teasing.

Mrs. Aster gave an equally sharp look at the boys but held her tongue as she fluttered up to the wall. The ceiling light, which had been at full glare, softened in anticipation of what was to come.

Mrs. Aster could not get a picture at first. The wall filled with swirling colors, but they would not congeal into a viable picture. Mrs. Copperpot came up with her cooking spoon to help, and Mister Deathwalker also tried flinging some dust at the wall which he pulled from a small pouch he carried at his side. By then, Mrs. Aster shook her stick and looked bewildered, as if something clogged up the magic. Inaros stood with a dour expression.

“Amateurs,” he mumbled. “All together now. One, two, three.” And he pointed his walking stick while the others tried their stick, spoon, and dust at the same time, and at last the picture came into focus. The children came up to stand around them as they all watched.

The room that they looked into did not appear to be all that big, though the ceiling looked cathedral-like, as it went up and up. It ended in beams of wood that were big enough to come from redwood trees and set in the shape of a dome, but the room itself looked relatively small, like the inside of a great tower. The floor looked all inlaid marble, though no one could quite make out the pictures set in the stone. Apart from that, there appeared to be only one noticeable piece of furniture in the room. A three-legged, waist high stand or table of a sort sat in the very center. The tabletop looked shaped like a three-fingered claw of wood, and it held the crystal which beat bright and soft, bright and soft, exactly like a heart. They all recognized the crystal—the Heart of Time.

The creature beside the crystal seemed of general human shape, though little could be determined through the long black robe, and nothing of the face, since it faced the crystal with most of its back to the watchers. It appeared to be staring into the crystal before suddenly, the creature picked up its head and turned around.

“Eh? What is this?” It looked straight at them all, and they saw, for all practical purposes, what looked like a classic hag, or a witch, with only a few straggly strands of gray hair that still clung for life to a skull whose ancient skin had turned a gray-green color. There were bumps and knobs, perhaps warts all over the head, except where the two horns protruded from the skull. These were no knobby little devil horns, but real bull horns, discolored and chipped in a few places, but ready to rend anything that got too close.

“Ashtoreth,” Deathwalker whispered, and Chris thought the goblin looked like a tame puppy compared to this horror.

“Looks like Gollum.” James suggested, and it did look a bit like someone who should have died ages and ages ago.

“I see you watching.” Ashtoreth raised a hand and flashed her teeth. The children expected to see few teeth, if any, in that ancient skull; but the teeth still looked as sharp and pointed as they had probably ever been. Beth imagined those teeth tearing apart live rats while the demon-goddess stayed in hiding for two thousand years.

“I hear you speaking my name.” Ashtoreth turned her head to the side and put a hand to her ear as if listening. Those nails, which may have once appeared human, were so long and thick and sharp they looked more like knives than fingernails.

The head turned again, and they all saw the blood red color come up into those eyes and noticed the darkness around them as the eyes seemed to sink a little further back into that horrible, ancient, decrepit face; and at once they all realized that when Ashtoreth hid herself for a time inside Lydia, she picked up more inside herself than perhaps she bargained for.

Her scream was enough to still the heart as she stretched out her right hand and ran straight at them.

The little spirits moved fast, and whether in concert or just accidentally at the same time, they managed to shut down the picture, but not before Ashtoreth stuck her right hand into the room, right up to the elbow. It grabbed at the air three or four times before it went stiff and turned as white as the wall and as brittle as plaster of Paris. It crumbled to dust. A thump shook the floor ever so slightly, and the golden door opened. A breeze came, swept up the white dust without missing a grain, and blew it out to be scattered in the wind of the world.

Everyone stared at the scene outside the door. It looked like a park, or perhaps an orchard, with the trees spaced liberally about, and only grass and a few ferns and flowers growing beneath. Mrs. Aster quickly turned everyone back to the table. “We’re not ready,” she said to the ceiling.

“I can’t go there,” David said straight out what everyone honestly felt.

“Fortunately, we won’t have to,” Inaros assured him as they took their seats.

“Thanks be,” Deathwalker added.

“Then, what are we doing?” Beth asked.

“We thought we would go to the castles,” Mrs. Aster responded.