James squinted toward the light. A small silver jewelry box sat open upon the desk. Visible just inside it was an opal brooch. Spooled around this, glinting in the light, was a length of metallic red thread.
Zane gasped. "The missing thread!"
Petra moaned, "My father's brooch!"
James broke away from the group. Steeling himself, he approached the desk, which stood nearest of all the furnishings. When he reached for the brooch, however, his hand froze. He felt the veins of his fingers go brittle a moment before the flesh crackled white all the way up to his wrist. Tendrils of icy vapor trailed behind as he yanked his hand away and hugged it to his chest, crying out in shock and fear.
"That was unwise," the woman's voice said, smugly amused. "But instructive, I am quite sure. Only she who owns the brooch may approach it."
"Why are you doing this?" Petra demanded, striding toward James and taking his hand into both of her own. After a moment, James cried out again as the feeling returned to it. He flexed his fingers experimentally and then glanced thankfully at Petra.
"I am not doing any of it," the woman answered, and James finally thought he saw her. A figure stood disguised in the shadows beyond the beam of light. Even in the darkness, he recognized the shape of her—the hooded robe, framing that beautiful, arrogant face. It was the woman he had first met in the halls of the Aquapolis back at the beginning of their journey. It was Judith, the Lady of the Lake.
"You are right, James," the woman said, as if reading his thoughts. She stepped forward slightly so that the light reflected up onto her features. "But only a little. I have taken the form of the woman that Merlinus once loved, but I have also adopted a trace of the woman your sorceress friend bargained for. If she looks at me closely, she will see it."
Petra peered past the beam of light toward the woman on the other side. Her face paled. "Mother?" she whispered.
"I am both and I am neither," the woman answered lightly, waving a hand. "I have borrowed from the shape of Merlin's Judith and your own mother, my dear, partly because it amuses me and partly because it was the condition of the bargain."
"The bargain," Petra said, still whispering. "But… I didn't kill Izzy. The dreams I had at the beginning of our journey were wrong. Izzy didn't die in the lake on that night. I called it off. The bargain was never completed."
"You didn't kill Izabella," the woman corrected, "but you did kill. You sent your stepmother into the lake in your sister's place. By doing so, you only changed the conditions. The bargain itself was fulfilled. Your destiny insisted upon it. Thus, rather than recalling your beloved mother from the afterlife, you got… me. I arose from the lake on the night that you murdered your stepmother. You recalled me from the mists of the netherworld, my dear, in the place of your mother. I wish I could say that I was sorry, but alas, I am not."
"Who are you?" Petra asked again.
"This is still not the question that begs to be asked," the woman replied impatiently, "but if you must know, I am a Fate. There are three of us, although not in the way that you might think. The other two Fates do not know their own identities, and for now that suits me just fine. My true name would be unpronounceable to you, so you may simply call me Judith or the Lady of the Lake. I enjoy both titles."
"Why are you doing this?" This time, it was Lucy who approached. She stood next to James.
"Why?" the woman said, raising her eyebrows in a surprised smile. "Because it is my destiny. And because I enjoy it. Need there be any other reason?" She laughed. "The truth is, I have been working toward this end for nearly a year by your time—almost since the moment I arose from the lake's surface. It took me some time to find all of you, but once I did, I knew that you would lead me to where I needed to be. I even assisted when it was absolutely necessary. And sure enough, you led me to Alma Aleron and that delightful device known as the Vault of Destinies. The rest was eerily easy."
James felt Zane and Ralph join him now. The group was once again complete.
Petra's voice turned cold as she said, "What is it you want?"
"Still the wrong question," Judith scolded, her smile turning brittle. "Soon I will grow impatient with you. Stop wasting our precious time. We have work to do."
Zane spoke up then, his voice trembling slightly. "Give us back the crimson thread!"
"That is a demand, not a question." Judith sneered slightly, turning her pretty face piggish for a moment. "And I cannot grant your demand at any rate."
Petra made to reach for the brooch, around which was twined the tantalizing thread, but Judith chided her warningly.
"I would not be so bold, dear one," she teased. "The brooch can only be taken by she who owns it."
"But I own it!" Petra exclaimed. It was nearly a plea.
James took one more step forward, placing himself at the head of the group, his hand still intertwined with Petra's. "Will you," he asked, framing the question with great emphasis, "give us back the crimson thread?"
"That's the question I've been waiting for!" Judith cried out, clapping her hands with glee. "And I have an answer for you, James Sirius Potter, you wonderful, bold young man. The answer is no."
"Why not?" James demanded, barely stopping himself from reaching for the thread-twined brooch again.
"Because that is not the crimson thread!" Judith exclaimed, delightedly. "And because the real crimson thread does not wish to go back!"
As Judith spoke, James perceived movement inside the beam of the light. He turned toward it and saw that there was someone else in the castle with them, someone who'd been there the entire time, seated on the high-backed chair, turned away from them. A pale hand moved on the arm of the chair, gripping it as the figure stood, arose to her full height, and turned around.
"You wonderful fools," Judith breathed triumphantly, gazing at the young woman who now stood in the beam of light. "You failed to understand the true meaning of the Loom. That length of thread you see wrapped around the brooch is only a symbol. She is the true Crimson Thread, drawn through the Vault of Destinies from her own dimension, just as the symbolic thread itself was plucked from the Loom. As long as the symbolic thread stays here with us, so… does… SHE."
James was speechless. He stared into the beam of light, unable to take his eyes from the young woman standing there, smiling weakly. Her hair was long and dark, framing a face he knew very well except for the eyes. There, he saw only a hollow deadness, lurking just under a pall of misery. Except for the eyes, the young woman standing inside the light, at home in that odd bedroom assembly, was Petra herself.
"Izzy," the other Petra said, her voice cracking into tears. "I'm so sorry I killed you."