Phone rings, door chimes, in comes company. The Italians call it "hospitaliano," that open armed attitude that makes guesting and having guests *molto* fun. Whether you're hosting, being hosted, or hosting again because you forgot the first time, always remember, it’s dangerous to refuse a guest, and sometimes worse to be one.

The stars at the top of the world begin to align, and the meeting of the coven draws ever nearer. Old debts are paid and new collateral is put on the line. Ame plays politics, Eursulon plays cowboy, and Suvi's not playing around, not even a little. Remember, the number one rule of hospitality and protocol is never ever tell your host that all your rowdy friends are coming over tonight. They hate that.

The surviving members of the Coven of Elders gather in the Palace of the Wind and Stars for their conclave. Meanwhile, the gang says goodbye to a horse.

Our deliberations begin. You're probably wondering why I've called you all here today. Or maybe you're not. Maybe you already know. How could anyone tell with that mask on your face? Let's do it again, but this time: with stakes, a bird on my shoulder, my breath on your neck. Take a break, sure, but then, (if it is the right thing to do, and only then): have at me.

The gang splits up. The stars align and cast no shadow. In separation: terror and revelation. But it's pressure that makes the coal into diamond isn't it? And oh what stories that diamond could tell, of the phantom thread that unspools from cradle to the gory floor. [If you listen to the show with young children, you might wanna give this ep a listen first.]

Everybody's gotta serve somebody. But who? Who exactly is calling the shots? And how can you tell who anyone else is working for? Finding out can be expensive. It takes sacrifice, subterfuge, diplomacy, a poker face, a long look in the mirror, and worst of all: networking. All this and more, we give gladly, for the sustaining and preservation of great magic.

Aren't you thirsty, brother? Here is the well of stars. Here, the dark waters of the river. There, a bubbling spring. Drink deeply, and consider what swims and writhes beneath. For like a forked tongue flicks back and forth, like the great claw taps against the glass (To be let in? To be let out?) a clock, somewhere, tiks and toks unceasing, making what will be what is. And we are all full of snakes.

Everyone comes together in the Keep of the Woodland Green. But time keeps on slipping into the future, like a tree slips towards the sky, with hours left until Ame's judgement day, and still so many muddy rivers to cross. What wouldn't you do to save your true friend? To keep the big guys from knowing what you're up to? Would you look in a place you've never looked before? Yeah? You would? Then a wandering we will go.

The defense makes its closing arguments. The pillars of Umora shake beneath the firmament. A guest speaker makes a short presentation. Weird. Feels like we've been here before.

Two great big lenses, like unblinking eyes, spread out upon the table. The better to see you with, my darling. The better to catch you. The better to use you up. Don't ask which, you can't handle the truth, and honestly? Same. Someone's game is over. Someone's done messing around. Someone's time is up. But worry not, for what goes up, must come down. Strap in.