As Branna and Amy vanished from Jupiter's throne room they reappeared in the forest outside the city in the same instant. A sudden change of scene was not new to Amy whenever she was in the company of Branna, but it still left her feeling momentarily disorientated.

"What now?" asked Amy, as she took hold of her composure.

"Now, we recue my father," Branna replied, in a matter-of-fact tone.

"And what about your sister? Your father can take care of himself, but if your sister gets away, you may never see her again."

"She will have to wait. My father only has a few hours before he dies."

"How do you know that?"

"When I left to search the palace for my father, I had a quick conversation with one of the guards in the dungeons."

"A quick word?" Amy asked, with suspicion.

"I took him for an impromptu flying lesson. When someone is falling thousands of feet, they suddenly become very talkative. He told me where my father is."

"Good. Let's go."

"It's not that easy. I need a little time to recover my magical strength. I am going to steal a horse from the royal stables. By the time I ride to where my father is being held my power will be restored."

"You mean, horses?"

"Can you ride a horse?" asked Branna, accusingly.

"No, but I know a lot of people that do," Amy replied, with a grin.

"Well then; if you know a lot of people that do ride, that practically makes you an expert horsewoman."

Amy groaned.

"I mean to say, I know a lot of people that do, and those people are quite... You know? Dumb."

"Idiots can ride horses. You aren't an idiot; therefore, you should be able to ride a horse with ease? Flawless logic."

"That isn't fair," Amy protested. "I am the wise-cracking, sarcastic one. You stick to your own bit."

Branna smiled, warmly.

"I appreciate your enthusiasm," Branna said, meekly. "This time it really would be better for me to go on my own. I will steal a horse for you as well. If you can figure out how it works, you can ride back to our city and wait for me there. I don't have time to teach you how to ride. My father doesn't have time."

"And if I can't figure out how it works?"

"An inconceivable thought," Branna mocked, with a grin. "But if you can't figure it out you should hide in the forest until I return."

"Well that all sounds like a half-assed way to a beheading."

"Your head is perfectly safe. They need you. These beings do not mess around. If they saw no value in you, then you would already be dead."

"Jupiter needed you, and now he's doing everything that he can to get rid of you," Amy reasoned. "How can you be so certain they won't turn on me?"

"He's trying to control me; there is a difference. He knows what I am and how I can be of use to him. You are something different. Until he can work out your true value, he has to keep you alive."

"And how will he try to control me, if he captures me? Are my parents safe?"

"That is a risk that I am willing to take," said Branna. "As for your parents? That is something we will have to face if it happens. I must save my father, and I must save him now."

The young witch vanished before Amy could reply.

"Thanks for that," she mumbled.

Before Amy could take another breath, Branna stepped out of the air leading two horses. The tall, black stallion and the much smaller brown pony may have been baffled by the sudden change in surroundings, but neither animal tried to bolt.

With effortless grace, Branna sprung up onto the back of the stallion. Amy moved to take control of the pony, which had been spooked by the suddenness of Branna's mount.

"No saddles?" asked Amy, disapprovingly. "And I thought that you had to recharge your magical batteries?"

"I didn't stop to look for saddles," Branna replied, annoyed. "I was a little too busy avoiding the men with swords. As for my magical batteries; they are running low, but there is some life left in them yet."

Branna gently dug her heels into the side of the hose. The animal instantly responded, and it began to canter off.

"How am I supposed to..." Amy began.

Branna waved a hand and Amy was transported onto the back of the pony.

"How do I steer it?" called Amy.

"Figure it out!" called Branna.

Branna spurred the animal on with greater force and authority, and the horse responded with a sudden burst of speed. The horse thundered across the soft soil of the river planes as if sensing the urgency of the mission. She had selected the horse in a moment of pressure, but it had been a fortunate choice. They crossed the river over a wide, stone bridge, and they tore through fields of high, white, wild grass. Clouds of fine seeds from the rough sward lifted into the air in choking clouds. The sharp atmosphere caused Branna to cough, but the horse remained unaffected as it filled its lungs and fired its muscles. Branna surmised that the horse had been enchanted. It was not uncommon for animals from the human realm to be brought to the magical land, but she knew that for mortal animals to survive that strange place they needed magical assistance. Sometimes those creatures made it back to the world of men where they would be hunted for the power that they possessed. There was a time when Branna's people hunted such creatures; the sacrifice of such an unfortunate beast released powerful, magical energy that could be absorbed by those with the skill and understanding to harness it. Her mother was one such person, in a time before she learned how to draw magical energy directly from the heart of the Earth.

The city on the blue mountain remained frustratingly fixed in the distance no matter how hard she urged the beast onwards. As her desperation grew, she drew on her badly depleted powers to transport herself and the stallion closer to the city. One more blast of magic brought them into the city. Had there been time she would have sought out Patrick to tell him what was happening, but she couldn't risk a lengthy debate on her plan to rescue her father. She knew it was dangerous. She knew it to be most likely a trap, but she simply didn't have a choice.

As she continued through the town and along the road to the portal which led to the outside world, she knew that her power was nowhere near restored. The angel, Victoricus, stood guard by the gateway—a pale blue stain on the side of the mountain, the portal looked unremarkable to all but those who knew of its existence and power. The angel did not move as Branna approached at high speed. The angel knew her well; it was his job to know her well, as it was his job to know well all those who passed through the gateway. She was free to come and go as she pleased, though not everyone was as blessed when they came across the angelic gatekeeper. The wall of granite that concealed the gateway would have been enough to cause a mortal horse to stop, but the stallion saw beyond the deception and it continued to race towards the other realm. The horse could see beyond the veil. It could see the land of its birth. It could see freedom. Branna knew better.

Branna leant forward and she whispered into the animal's ear.

"I am so sorry," she said.

She placed her hands on either side of the horse's head and she began to drain its power as it entered the portal. It was an act that her mother would not have approved of, even though the old woman had done the very same thing many times, before her enlightenment. As they emerged into darkness on the other side of the portal the horse turned to dust and it scattered in a fine cloud, spilling Branna onto the ground in the process. She looked back mournfully at the swirling remains of the creature.

"Thank you," she whispered.

The thank you was not merely an apology, for as she connected with the creature in those last few moments of its life she had asked for its permission to take the power that was protecting it from centuries of decay. The horse gave itself willingly in support of her mission.

There was no time to acknowledge the sacrifice further. In a blink she was standing at the doorway to the lighthouse. As she tried to transport inside, she was met with an unwelcome gift left by her father's captors. The structure was defended by powerful magic. She placed both hands on the door and she began to push. The strength from her muscles was augmented by the power of her magic. She closed her eyes and drew on all of her power in one final attempt to force the door open. As the last of her power left her body, the door swung open violently. Branna fell through the open doorway onto the stone floor. As she looked back across the still sea, she could detect the first hints of sunlight behind the horizon. She got to her feet and dragged herself up the spiral stairway. Her strength, both physical and supernatural, had all but been depleted. A spike of adrenaline caused her to race across the room where her father lay, beaten and bruised. She knelt beside him and stroked his head. He felt cold, and damp.

"We have to leave," she said, softly. "The sun will soon be up, and I forgot to bring sun cream."

He forced a smile. Branna helped him to his feet, and the father and daughter lumbered their way down the staircase. They stepped through the doorway onto the rock. The hidden sun set the sky on the horizon ablaze. The gathering firestorm that promised the people of Mourne a glorious day was the herald of death to Branna and her father.

"We must hurry," urged Branna. "The sunlight is almost upon us."

"No transport?" asked Cathal.

"There was a horse, but that plan fell apart at the last moment."

"No rescue party?"

"There wasn't time to put one together."

"So, you are making this up as you go along?"

"Pretty much."

"That's my girl," said Cathal, wryly.

They stumbled along the shoreline under the growing light of the dawn. The narrow country roads were free from traffic as Branna supported her father as he hobbled along. With each step his body grew a little stronger—the vampiric lifeforce healed his body and uplifted his spirits the farther the travelled from the lighthouse and the magic that had been draining his strength. As they neared the entrance to the forest, at the centre of which was found the sacred mountain with its portal to the other realm, Cathal freed himself completely from Branna's assistance. He progressed from unsure toddler, to flush of early adulthood, in a few steps.

Branna looked back over her shoulder towards the sun as they sought protection beneath the dense canopy of trees.

"I don't think that we are going to make it," she said, with mild anguish. "We will have to seek shelter until sunset."

"Do you get the feeling this was Jupiter's plan all along? Take us out of the game, for now, but keep us around in case he has need of us later?"

"Of course it was," she said, sharply. "But why would we ever help him after this? He can't be so deluded as to think that we would simply set this attack to one side. We will return home at nightfall. If he is going to war with his brothers today, surely it won't end in a few short hours? And if we are such a threat to him, why not simply kill us?"

"Perhaps killing us was the plan? I mean, if you had been a little longer getting me out of the lighthouse, the sun would have been upon us and we would be dead. He could kill me easily enough whenever it suited him, but you; not so easy. Who the hell knows what goes through the minds of those fiends? No matter, I am certain that we will get an opportunity to ask him face to face once we get back home. Any battle he wins this day against his brothers will be a fleeting victory; I can promise you that."

"Home," mused Branna.

She had barely finished speaking the word when the last of her magic had moved them many miles—not enough to take them back to the portal, but far enough to take them to safety. They were deep inside the forest, standing next to a ruined cottage that had once been their family home. The roof, door and windows had long since collapsed and decayed, with only remnants of stone walls remaining. A large oak tree was growing through the floor of the single room dwelling. The leafy roof would provide them with protection from the sun as it trekked slowly across the sky. As the first powerful rays of sunlight hit the tops of the highest trees in the forest, father and daughter stepped into their old home. Branna was suddenly struck by a torrent of emotions. She was sad that her childhood home was in such a sorry state. She was filled with joy as she called on happy memories of her time as a child, playing in front of a roaring fire with her sisters in the middle of winter, telling stories, and sharing meals. She was also angry; very angry. Happiness had been torn from them by a cruel angel, without explanation. They had lived as family in near perfect bliss, away from the world and causing no harm to anyone—they did not deserve what had happened to them. Her tidal musings were abruptly interrupted when her sister stepped out from behind the tree. Her sudden appearance took Branna by surprise and she responded defensively. Branna's human form vanished, and her vampiric aspect was instantly fixed. Her sister responded in kind. They moved to confront one another. Cathal stepped in between them and he raised his hands, instructing them to stop.

"I would threaten to send you to your room," Cathal said. "But you are already there. Why don't we put away the fangs and hug? My God, daughters. I never thought I would live to see this day."

The sisters looked at him warily before fixing their gaze on one another. Branna was first to restore her human form. Her sister paused for a moment before doing the same.

"It is good to see you, sister," said Branna. "Yet I ask myself why you are so far from your real home?"

"I could ask you the same thing," she replied. "Surely you and the saint have rounded up all of the old ones by now? I haven't seen so much as a woodland sprite in an age. There is no need for you to be in this world."

"What are you talking about?" asked Branna, with genuine confusion.

"When the demon told me what you were doing, I didn't believe him. Not at first. Then I saw it for myself. Your saint and his pet fairy. They rounded up all the truly innocent creatures of this world, and they destroyed them. And you did nothing. Mother taught us to love and cherish the old ones, yet you allied yourself with their greatest enemy."

"Sister, I don't know what you thought you saw, but I know Patrick, and I know Tarish, and there is no way in hell they would ever do such a thing. Saturn has deceived you."

"I saw them! It was no trick. Saturn did not put those creatures onto ships and sail them into oblivion! Patrick did that. Tarish did that! They were not part of this war. They were innocent. Neither angel, nor human. Yet they were powerful, and pure, and now they are gone. Had the saint taken the time to get to know them, and to win them over, then we might just have stood a small chance of winning this war. His hatred has damned us all."

"You must believe me," Branna pleaded. "I know nothing about any of this. If we speak to Patrick, I am certain he can provide an innocent explanation for what you think you saw. He is a good man."

The young woman turned away from Branna.

"You are very quiet, father. Is there something that you have been keeping from Branna?"

Cathal looked at his feet as he searched for the words.

"Well?" insisted Branna.

"I don't know," said Cathal. "I did hear some stories, but that was a long time ago. As you say, there is probably an innocent explanation..."

Branna moved to face him directly.

"What stories?" she demanded.

Cathal cleared his throat, but the words did not want to come out.