At last, in desperation, she seated herself before the stone and tried to focus her own mind upon it. At once she felt sickening fingers clawing at her mind. Wrenching herself away, she fell to the ground and wretched, dryly.
"No!"
She pounded her small fists on the ground. "I won't let you have him!"
Without thinking, she let her instincts guide her, and sat once more before the stone. This time, she cleared her mind and began to concentrate. But on herself this time, rather than the stone. Then, turning her attention to the blue sphere before her, she began to call to it with her mind.
From underneath the stone came a hiss, followed by a cloud of steam. The air began to smell cool and leafy, like the smell of a green meadow in early spring. The evil presence tried to reach out to her though the stone, but the orb itself resisted, reflecting the evil back at itself. A great, silent cry came from the stone, ascending in pitch until it became almost unbearable. The struggle was horrific, and it seemed that something, if not the stone itself, must break . . .
Then, abruptly, all was still.