Sleep mist

I ran toward the southern garden and reached the boggart slab where I had last seen the witch assassin. She was still there, sleeping deeply, surrounded by the green mist, which writhed and coiled like a living snake about to crush its prey.

But the sack was gone.

Someone had entered the garden, using magic to make sure that we were all in a deep sleep. Even the boggart had succumbed.

I had awoken in spite of the dark magic. Somehow I had been able to resist it. And now one of the other gifts I had inherited from Mam came to my aid once more.

There was that flash of light inside my head, and the pain in my forehead. And instantly I knew the precise location of the Fiend’s head.

B13 C16