Osric tucked the crown inside his robe as he ran, which made the chamber dark and difficult to navigate. He followed the sparks given off by Lavender’s wings but still managed to trip over an empty treasure chest. He scrambled behind it and looked for the ghost.
Its presence filled the chamber with a coldness that rivaled the top of the mountain Osric had climbed—how long ago had it been? He feared that time between here and earth were so out of sync that if he managed to return, he would find himself hundreds of years away from where he started.
Osric heard another musical sound, but not like Lavender’s wings or voice. This sound came from his cloak, and he realized the crown was calling out to its ghostly protector. Osric stood and shouted for Lavender. She heard him and turned toward his voice, but so did the ghost.
“Here,” Osric said, handing her the crown. “Take this and fly out of here.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Stop the ghost so you can get away. Go, now! Hurry!”
She hesitated for a moment and then flew toward the exit. Osric turned to face the ghost, who was almost upon him. Osric’s mind raced to find a protective spell, but all that came to mind was an incantation against witchcraft. It would have to do. He raised his arms against the ghost and began to chant in an ancient language. His hands glowed. The ghost stopped.
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