Shenka rushed toward me as the wild magicks threw themselves into a frenzy of fluttering, battering me with their power.
"What do they want?" She was calm, at least, though the faces of the other witches, from various covens, now gathered in the large center common room weren't quite so composed.
"I don't know." I gritted my teeth against the constant pecking of the magicks and threw out a soft net of my own power. They stilled immediately, coming to heel almost like trained creatures, though they didn't calm so much as focus.
Again with the images, the shattering crystals, the broken machine. Belaisle, me, and the darkness. I clung to them, my power teasing out more information. The mirror again, cracking in the center, shattering into a multitude of shards.
Why did that image tweak a memory?
But which memory?
The wild magicks shrieked and fled so suddenly I staggered, realizing as they disappeared through the canopy of the pavilion it wasn't they who screamed.