Chapter Twelve
Sophy’s second journey through to Aylfenhame was considerably less pleasant than the first.
Previously, the crossing-over had been as simple as walking. A mere few steps had carried her over the invisible threshold between the worlds, and a mere touch of the gates had returned her to England.
The process was no more complicated, the second time; she had dropped the crystal Balli had given her, it had turned into a will-o-the-wyke and she had followed along, with none of the doubts that had assailed her before.
She had not been expecting pain, or the sensation of being squeezed, as though she was attempting to fit herself between two very solid gateposts placed a bare few inches apart. When she had emerged, panting and shocked, on the other side, she expected to find her
