Ash held up the scepter. It throbbed with icy blue light, sparkling like it was made of crystal, as Lise hadfirst seen it back in Tir Na Nog. "Ill use the scepter to open a trod," he murmured, turning away. "Stand back."

Lise stepped back.

She stands back.

The scepter flared, filling the room with cold, making their breath steam. The air around them shimmered, as though a veil had been dropped over everything. A hazy circle opened up in front of Ash; beyond it, they could see trees and earth and the foggy twilight of the wyldwood.

"Go," Ash told them, his voice slightly strained.

"Come on. This is our stop." Puck gestured at the portal, waiting for the girls to go through

She nodded and went through the trod.

She goes through.

The wyldwood was in chaos. Wind and hail whipped around them, screaming through the branches and pelting them with shards of ice. Green lightning streaked overhead, slashing through massive clouds that roiled and churned above them, shaking branches and stirring debris into violent whirlwinds. Gouts of snow intermingled with the rain, gathering in mounds and drifts and then scattered by the wind. A violet-skinned piskie went hurtling by, caught in a savage tailspin, until she vanished into the trees.

Puck appeared behind them and swore, crimson hair flying in all directions. He had to shout to be heard. "They started the war without us. I had an invitation, too."

Ash stepped through the circle, and it closed behind him. "Reaping Field is close." He raised his head to the wind, closing his eyes, and his brow furrowed. "The fighting is well underway. I can smell the blood. Follow me."

She unsheathes her claws in preparation, and follows.

She began following Ash, looking around her in all directions.

The scepter was a bright blue glow against the dark of the wyldwood. Around them, the storm raged and howled, and thunder boomed overhead, shaking the ground.

Finally, the trees fell away, leaving them staring over a vast, icy gulley flanked by rugged hills, their tops disappearing into the clouds. A frozen river snaked its way through the boulder-studded valley, coiling lazily around the ruins of an ancient castle in the center of the plains.

From here, the armies of Summer and Winter looked like swarming ants, a huge, chaotic blur of motion and color. Roars and screams filled the air, rising above the howl of the wind. Ranks of soldiers clashed against one another in a somewhat disciplined fashion, while other groups bounded across the field, ricocheting from one fight to the next, joyfully hurling themselves into the fray. Giant shapes lumbered through the masses, swinging and crushing, and swarms of flying creatures attacked from the air. It was a colossal, violent, crazy free-for-all that would be suicide to go through.