“I will see to that, little Tristan,” said Maggrai, suspicious to the last. He carried the three pieces of crystal he had selected to the opening at the back of the Chronagine, and dropped them one-by-one into the orifice.
After opening the iron-clad portal, Tristan shoved Mungo inside and fitted the hatch firmly in place. A heavy wooden bar slid across the doorframe, locking it from the outside. A tiny window, made of clear selenite, allowed an observer to view the interior of the chamber. Mungo stood motionless within it, his usually vacant look replaced by one of abject terror.
Azothe placed herself between Tristan and the glass.
“It is ready.” Azothe came to stand beside Tristan, and her fragrance calmed his edginess. He engaged the master controls, sending the necessary energy into
