Constance glared out the window at the city below, winking lights mocking her as the tiny seed of power she'd managed to salvage, the teensy part she'd kept well hidden against the fear this day might come, whimpered its fear inside her. The Lovely Witches might have thought they defeated her, but she wasn't done, wasn't out of the game. With this seed she could build her magic anew, stolen from others, taken from those less worthy. Constance Cooper would rise again and when she did, ...