Crimson fire blossomed around the creature known as the Disreputable Dog, the vengeful wrath from the bound Destroyer. Orannis roared, and repulsive Free Magic boomed, most of it directed at the Dog, who was once called Kibeth.
Where, then, did the rest go?
Far, far away from this final battle, in the Observatory of the Clayr, the image that the Nine Day Watch was Seeing suddenly blanked. Slowly, the Clayr emptied the Observatory, silently accepting this failure. They had had many failures of late.
When the last Clayr had gone, the great sheet of ice in the Observatory shook as if struck by an earthquake, but did not fall. Several minutes passed after this unusual spasm, until something happened. One tiny drop of water fell from the Observatory ceiling, splashing without a sound onto the ground.
Somewhere south of this, closer to the Wall, a great black raven soared, panicked, away from Ancelstierre. But this raven was unlike any other, for it was huge and filled with darkness. It did not think, merely flew, for to falter or turn back meant certain destruction. Yet as that single drop of water in the Clayr's Observatory dropped, the terrible bird stopped flying insanely, as if that had been some sort of signal. It lost all its former panic and regained cold, calculating thought. With a nasty smirk uncharacteristic to any mortal raven, it began winging its way north once more, but this time with a sense of purpose.
Someone else who seemed to notice the silent drop was the most feared necromancer north of the city Navis. The woman paused, and the wind around her seemed to chill as she turned to face the Glacier. Smiling grimly, she headed southwest, hand on the telltale bell-bandolier that marked her as who she was.
Both made their way to where that lonesome drop had fallen.
Unaware of all this, relief and grief together filled the atmosphere at Forwin Mill in Ancelstierre. Seven figures collapsed on the ground as they recovered from the fearsome battle they had just fought. But they had succeeded. They had bound Orannis, the Destroyer, who would have obliterated their world had It been kept free. But the Seven—Eight, actually—bound him anew, confiding him to the split halves of a silver sphere.
But the toll—one of the Eight's lives—had been paid.
Kibeth, the Disreputable Dog, had finally Walked herself into Death. But she wouldn't be Walking out.
While the others breathed in relief, the one called Lirael still wept silently, clutching the dog statuette that the Dog had left behind, her own semblance. While the Abhorsen, Sabriel, freed the Eighth Shiner, Yrael, from his eternal servitude to the Abhorsens, Lirael still cried, the tears coursing down her cheeks.
She had lost her only friend in the world.
Prince Sameth, once he helped his sister Ellimere up, hesitantly went over to her. She looked up, and tried to see through her tears who it was, and recognized him. She was wrong, she realized—she may have lost her one true friend, but she had her newfound family. Sam was her nephew, Sabriel her sister…no one could ask for a more loving and caring family.
"Sam," she sobbed, unable to keep her sorrow in. Dimly she saw that resting on the ground was the bell Astarael the Weeper. Its presence was, for once, fitting, but not exactly welcoming.
Sam bent down and helped his aunt up, trying to support her. Two other strong hands helped him, and he looked gratefully at the twin Clayr, Sanar and Ryelle. Together they carried the weeping Lirael, who hardly noticed anything, even the pain of her severed hand.
As they struggled up the hill, Lirael saw the diamond-shaped patch of grass that was alone healthy and whole, and remembered the three diamonds of protection they had cast. Even that seemed so long ago. And the body of Nicholas Sayre, who had bore the fragment of Orannis unwittingly for so long, would rest in that diamond, she knew. Another thing to mourn.
Suddenly, she nearly fell as Sam let go of her, but Sanar—or Ryelle, she couldn't tell which—hastily picked her up where he had dropped her. Lirael tried to see the reason for Sam's sudden action, but could not, and found that she no longer cared. She was too far gone now.
"Nick!" yelled Sam, and he ran up the hill. Lirael wondered if she'd heard right, and that Sam had shouted the name of the dead boy in that diamond of grass. At the same time, she saw a figure waving merrily at the top of the hill, towards whom Sam ran. Who was that, Lirael wondered, and she squinted, but for the life of her she could not see.
Now Sam was embracing the figure, and laughing like one laughs in hysterical relief. The two came back down, toward the other six, and they were both laughing, laughing like they could never stop…
It was then when Lirael was certain she was hallucinating. For there, standing before her, was the dead Nick, alive and whole…
"I must be dreaming," she muttered.
Nick heard her and smiled, turning towards her. "This isn't a dream," he said softly, "it's real. It's as real as that owl and the winged dog in my tent was real."
Mention of the Dog nearly brought on a new wave of tears, but Lirael held them back. "Nick," she said in disbelief. "Nicholas Sayre."
"That's me," he said brightly as he was hugged roughly by Sam once more. Then he turned to greet the others, grinning as Touchstone clapped him on the back.
"Nicholas Sayre," Lirael repeated to herself, then smiled as darkness claimed her vision.