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Uncle Griffinskitch asked.
    “Would such a thing be possible?” Winter wondered. “Kendra, tell me the story of what happened when you were cast through that wretched portal.”
    “But I’ve told you everything already,” Kendra said.
    “Tell me again,” Winter said. “These old ears would like to hear it once more.”
    “Well,” said Kendra after a moment’s pause. “It’s as I’ve said before. When the Door to Unger opened, we were all pulled inside the maze. It was meant to trick us, to play on our fears, and turn us into monsters—Ungers, Izzards, and such.”
    “But you did not succumb to this curse; you found your way to the center of the maze,” Winter said.
    Kendra nodded. “And there I met the ghost of the Wizard Greeve haunting the maze. But then the whole temple began to crumble. The ghost told me that because I had defeated him, the maze, the door—everything—would be destroyed. But the ghost showed us a way out; and as long as we stayed in his path of light we’d remain in our true forms. Then Kiro stepped out of the light at the very end, so I think he must still be changed back to a creature’s form. The last I saw of him, he was Trooogul the Unger.”
    For many moments, Winter said nothing. Her brow furrowed, and she seemed lost in deep thought. At long last she said, “Your brother, Kendra, plays a part in this, I’m sure, whether he’s Trooogul or Kiro. But tell me, child, what else did you see in the center of the maze?”
    “Nothing,” Kendra replied. “Just a podium of stone and a broken cauldron. The ghost was rising up from it.”
    “Ah,” Winter murmured.
    “What is it?” Kendra asked.
    “The cauldron of Greeve,” Uncle Griffinskitch answered for the old woman. “During the dawn of Een, the Wizard Greeve cursed his brothers. Only one—old Leemus Longbraids here—escaped his act of rage.”
    “Your mother, Kendra, was convinced of a legend that told how Greeve brewed the curse in his cauldron,” Winter added. “The curse was so vile, so full of hatred, that they say it caused his cauldron to shatter.”
    “The very cauldron, Kendra, that you discovered in the center of the maze,” Uncle Griffinskitch said. “If the legend is true, then the shattered remains of the cauldron would be relics of great power.”
    “But the maze was destroyed,” Kendra said. “Surely the cauldron was too.”
    “It’s possible,” Winter mused. “Or perhaps the fragments were recovered.”
    “That still doesn’t explain what we have seen in the stars,” Uncle Griffinskitch said. “If someone recovered the pieces, then the cauldron is not lost.”
    “Unless no single party has all the fragments,” Winter suggested. “It remains a mystery yet. When I return to—,”
    She paused, for the songbells had abruptly ceased to make their music. The ancient sorceress put a finger to her lips, and all three of them looked about nervously. After the melodious singing of the enchanted songbells, it seemed uncomfortably quiet in the garden.
    For a moment, Kendra thought she spotted something slipping past the stems of the songbells, but it was just as quickly gone. She blinked and rubbed her eyes. I must be imagining things, she thought.
    Then a loud crack came from above, and Kendra looked up to see the great stone ball rolling from the hand of the statue. It was plummeting right towards Winter!
    Before Kendra could even think to take action, Uncle Griffinskitch flicked his staff, quickly lifting Winter out of the way. With a thud, the stone crashed into the toadstool, right where Winter had been sitting, leaving behind nothing more than a flattened, pulpy mass.
    “It seems I owe you my life, Gregor,” Winter said, after taking the briefest of moments to find her wits.
    “How could the statue just crumble like that?” Kendra asked.
    “It was no accident, I assure you,” Winter declared.
    “Humph,” Uncle Griffinskitch grunted. “And what is that supposed to