01_-_The_Alchemyst

fading and blinking out of existence like lights being turned off and the
overlarge moon hanging low in the sky was losing shape and definition.
Already it was nothing more than a featureless ball. In the east, the rising sun
was a golden orb of light and the sky was still blue.
The Crow Goddess turned to her aunt. “How long before it all
disappears?” she asked.
Bastet growled and shrugged her broad shoulders. “Who knows? Even I
have never witnessed the death of an entire Shadowrealm. Minutes
perhaps…”
“That’s all I need.” Dee laid the sword Excalibur on the ground. The
smoothly polished stone blade reflected the blackness creeping in from the
west. Dee found three of the largest chunks of ice that had once been Hekate
and placed them on the blade.
The Morrigan and Bastet leaned over his shoulders and stared at the
sword, their reflections rippling and distorted. “What is so important that you
must do it here?” Bastet asked.
“This was Hekate’s home,” Dee replied. “And here, right here, at the
place of her death, the connection to her will be strongest.”
“Connection…,” Bastet growled, and then nodded. She suddenly knew
what Dee was about to attempt: the darkest and most dangerous of all the
dark arts.
“Necromancy,” Dee whispered. “I’m going to talk to the dead goddess.
She spent so many millennia here that it is part of her. I’m wagering her
consciousness remains active and attached to this place.” He reached out and
touched the handle of the sword. The black stone glowed yellow and the
carved snakes around the hilt came briefly alive, hissing furiously, tongues
flickering, before they solidified once again. As the ice melted, the liquid ran
over the black stone, covering it in a thin oily sheen. “Now we shall see what
we shall see,” he muttered.
The water on the blade began to bubble and pop, sizzling and crackling.
And a face appeared in each bubble: Hekate’s face. It kept flickering through