"I am used to bleeding," says Kell with the ghost of a smile. It never troubled Maxim or Emira to bleed him - not for the first time, Kell considers how nice it is to have a friend who cares for him. "It will be fine."

He settles near the wall and draws out his silver knife, cutting a short but deep line in his forearm. Blood wells immediately, and Kell drags the coin through the streak of red, placing it against his palm which he presses to the wall.

"As Tascen," he says, pouring his magic into the coin, the wall, willing it to bend for him. It remains as sturdy as ever beneath his hand, and Kell exhales, funneling more, but nothing changes. He pauses for a moment, breathless, but doesn't dare to turn and behold Sirius' stricken face. This will work. It has to work.

"As Travars," he tries, in case Harry is in the other Darrow. "Please."