Daska tried the mirror again. This time she thought to arrive at the time of the event.

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" shouted Daska at the blue-robed witch. The woman stood within her magic circle, the clay pot holding the proper potion, the root of nightshade ready to be employed.

"I must do this, Daska!"

"You'll die! You are too..." Daska choked on a sob, "Important to me!"

"Ga-sheb-nah... O-mal-pahdi-kallek...", the woman ignored Daska and continued her chant. In the distance, Anton witnessed silently, ethereally, perhaps invisible to the eyes of the witches, or perhaps simply not their focus.

"No! Then I'll have to stop you myself" Daska unleashed her most powerful spell - a storm of snow and ice - in a desperate attempt to interrupt the ritual. Maybe she would harm her fellow witch, but she could live with that over the alternate consequences she understood all too well. Snow and ice began to build in the vicinity, but it simply would not envelop the blue witch.

"When are you going to realize your feelings don't matter, Daska? It is done!" The witch in the circle lowered her hands and grinned triumphantly, "All that matters is that all this time you helped me get the power I nee... GAH!!!"

The blue-clad witch fell to her knees, clutching her head. A grave mistake was made, and Daska cried.