Kibeth stood, eyes on the barrier that separated her from life, and her mistress. Behind came Mogget, dragging Touchstone with him, who looked pale and worn. The struggle up the river had been terrible. He had been twice thrown back through the fourth gate – prone to stumbling or going too slowly in the waves from the third precinct.

'Are you ready, yet?' she snapped, looking back briefly at her companions, 'I sense fatality is near if we do not end this.'

The two of them nodded, eyes bright and faces drawn. Touchstone especially looked sombre and dull, the mist floating off the river swirling around him, making him look spectral and grim.

'By doing this...' he whispered, 'I send her to death? I will not do this if she has no choice but to be surrendered to the river. Even if I have to wait...'

The Dog woofled, brushing her nose comfortingly against Touchstone's shoulder. He smiled wistfully.

'You cannot help not knowing. You will do what you must.'

Mogget nodded, and then yowled, 'Enough. Time to end this. The last Abhorsen will rest at last. Mistress Lirael will be healed.

The Disreputable Dog sniffed excitedly. 'Master Nicholas did exactly what I planned. He gave her someone else to love.'

Mogget nodded solemnly, before becoming once more the albino dwarf, his alarming green eyes strange in the dim light. Reaching up, he snatched the Wallmaker's gift from Touchstone's hand. 'We will perform the rites. It will be my time at last.'

Silently, the three congregated around the gift. Mogget stroked it, his eyes wide. From beneath the wispy white beard, a whirring purr escaped. Mogget opened his mouth, and slowly, gently he let out a long, high peal of music. Touchstone recognised it from the binding he performed.

'Ranna sends her blessing!' he yelled to the river, 'She recognises the gift to Lirael Goldenhand!'

Ellimere watched her mother stumble towards her, and ran to her, eyes wide and fearful. Sabriel's leg was bent awkwardly under her stagger. Her face creased in agony, her teeth gritted, her hair matted with blood and dirt.

Ellimere ran to her, allowing her mother to forward, months of needlework and careful material selection ruined as blood leaked onto the clean white silk.

Horrified, Ellimere ripped the side down the hip, allowing herself free-er movement.

Sabriel coughed, and more blood escaped her mouth.

'Mother!' Ellimere cried, tears streaming down her perfectioned face. Sabriel reached up, stroking her daughter's curls.

'Ellie.' She whispered.

'Ma, speak to me, please don't go after Dad, please, look, I'll heal you!'

'They got me, Ellie, they surrounded me... I couldn't... couldn't.'

'Hush,' Ellimere sobbed, her hands sweeping her mother's form. Deep cuts, thick black bruises, internal bleeding.

Ellimere swore, over and over, her mind sweeping the charter for marks of healing and cleansing. She worked fast, her mother's life slipping precariously out of her grasp.

'NO!' she shouted, her hands fumbling to create the marks, and she forced them to function. Swiftly, she drove infection from her mother's body, helping the skin to knit quickly.

'Mum, listen to me.' Fiercely, she held onto her mother's face, half-formed charter symbols lingering in the air.

'Stay. Don't you DARE leave me now.'

She cursed, wiping tears from her eyes stubbornly. 'OUT!' she ordered the bruises. The clotting subsided and the blood sank back into the veins.

'Its too late, Ellie,' Sabriel whispered huskily.

'Something greater demands my life. I will stay with you for a while longer...'

Sabriel's eyes turned to a presence over Ellimere's shoulder, and she looked, her eyes red and raw.

Sameth stood, his eyes full of tears, fingers clasping and unclasping. He shook, eyes blazing. Nick approached behind, his eyes fearful and full of sorrow.

'Sam...' Sabriel coughed.

Sam threw himself to his knees and turned to face Nick, 'please,' he begged, 'Go and find Lirael, quick. She needs...'

But Nick was gone, running down towards the great hall.

Ellimere and Sameth turned to their mother.

'Here,' Ellimere whispered, 'Help me heal.'

The song was everywhere, filling every crevice of her being. The sword retracted from her armour, and, far off, Lirael heard growling.

Her vision cleared, the darkness separated like curtains on a stage. Lirael fell forward, choking back bile.

The white-skinned man was gone. In his place, only a grey column of light glowed, similar to an unbound Mogget, though without real form. A white ring formed a steady barrier around the being, and looking closely, Lirael saw flashes of those hideous eyes in the mass of grey. The ring, evidently, was Mogget, whose song she heard now, filling her with unquestionable strength, her heart beating fast and thick. She stood up, suddenly aware that the dead claws had unleashed her, and looking about her, she saw the dead bodies scattered here and there, frightened by yet another source of strange, black and brown whirl of colour, with little mass. Lirael found herself crying.

Thick and fast were her tears, uncontrollable, unbearable pain filled her chest and she fell to her knees, Mogget's song great but her own spirit dampened.

A wet nose touched her ear and Lirael cried harder. The feel of whiskers on her cheek.

'I love you,' said the Disreputable Dog, and suddenly, Lirael was brought back to herself by a heavy mahogany... something being dropped heavily into her lap.

She fell back, feeling a mahogany handle... unfamiliar... too big in her hands.

She looked up, and Touchstone stood by her, the Disreputable Dog beside him.

Lirael's voice was long gone, only tears and yells were audible above Mogget's cry.

Touchstone went to his knees and hugged her to him, his whisper suddenly loud in her ear.

'I'm sorry I must take her from you. But the Dog will stay 'til your time. Remember, Lirael, your family loves you. We all love you. Remember.'

His hands found hers, and placed them firmly over the object in her lap.

Lirael sobbed.

She looked down, and saw the eighth.

Yrael stopped singing and the white form filled the inside of the object in her hands.

Under Lirael's golden hand was the last bell. The Eighth Bell. Mogget's bell. Larger even than Astarael, the bell was the size of a cannonball, the charter marks that made it swimming gracefully across the surface of the wood and silver.

Lirael stood, the Dog's fur close to her normal hand.

Glowing with Mogget's spirit, the last bell rang true and clear, the peals escaping Lirael's hand in a chain of crystalline sound. The dead were instantly slaughtered: their bodies simply turned to ash, and the departed spirits found themselves inexplicably looking at the silvery constellation of the final precinct. Not a soul in the world was free of the sound, and ash collected everywhere as all the dead departed from the life of which they did not own.

Free of the initial notes, Yrael rang out clear, and Lirael's ears bled, her fingers stung under the power.

The dog bit her leg, keeping her in life.

The three looked up, and Sabriel's healed body gave a small smile of inexplicable satisfaction.

Touchstone reached down and took he hand, gathering his children to him for one last embrace.

'Dad....?'

Sabriel turned to her children. 'The eighth bell has rung.' She whispered. 'I am the last Abhorsen. The prophecy is complete. I love you. I always will. Tell Lirael... tell her that she is always loved.'

Sabriel reached up, and took her husband's hand.

Touchstone kissed his son's cheek and then his daughter's.

The last Abhorsen departed.

The last bell rang.

Lirael closed her eyes and let Nick run to her. Let him take her in his arms.

A wet dog nose tickled her face.