"Ye might wish to hold your thanks, pretty witch. Hold �em. I've no use for �em, and mayhap ye shall regret them."

Disturbed by the sprite's words, William forced himself to look up. He saw a trail of her pixie dust streaked across the darkness as though painted upon the air, but even that eerily magnificent sight only held him for a moment. Beyond it was a patch of sheer darkness so black it seemed as though someone had torn a swath out of the fabric of the world. William blinked several times before his eyes could focus and he raised the silver light burning at the tips of his fingers. Only then did he realize that the darkness ahead of them was the tree they had been searching for. It was twenty feet wide at least, and its trunk was knotted with strange whorls and holes. He glanced up and could see only its lower branches; its height was impossible to gauge.

"Well, then," William whispered. "Here we are."

From the shadows of the tree came the muffled sound of babies crying.