A lifetime had passed. At least, it felt like it – Jordan surely had watched hers flicker before her eyes. Her breath leapt in terrified gulps and her heart bucked in her chest, but the world beyond had fallen still.

Silent.

Jordan turned her head sideways, seeking Norae. The other was still there, clinging to the wall like a rock gecko.

She blinked back at Jordan and whispered, “Are you hale?”

Jordan nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She leaned into the wall at her back for security and looked down.

Below, the eerie fire had scorched the rivers of blood onto the ground like the charcoal sketch of some macabre artist. They no longer burned, and the stark network of etched black lines had cooled to a sprawling, grisly web. Jordan chewed at her lip, unnerved by the idea, and fervently hoped that they would not meet the spider.

Somewhere outside and above, shadows flew past with frightening speed.

Norae took a deep breath and leapt down from their perch, landing on steady feet amidst the rubble. Furtive, she checked their surrounds before nodding up to Jordan. She began to clamber awkwardly down, using precious time they didn’t have.

“Hurry, Jordan!”

Jordan panicked and let go of the ledge, dropping down with a sharp yelp. Norae caught hold of her sleeve to steady her as she landed, keeping her upright. She caught Jordan’s eye and brought one finger against her dark, full lips in wordless warning. Jordan nodded, abashed, and pressed her own lips tight together to quell any other unexpected sounds she might utter.

The eerie quiet persisted.

Together, they stepped out from beneath the archway, listening hard.

Nothing moved.

Not a single sound disturbed the pervasive silence. Norae picked her way across the rubble, intent on finding Thallo and leaving the city as fast as possible. Jordan followed without complaint. She fixed her gaze on her companion’s back, trying to avoid seeing the destruction around them. In the distance, soldiers shouted, and the rattle of armour floated through the still air. High above their heads, a feral call distracted her. Jordan looked up, to see creatures larger than horses flying in a staggered grid pattern above the city. She caught her breath – gryphons! She strained after them, but in short seconds, they had passed over. Disappointed, she dropped her gaze back to her feet, but too late – she tripped on an upturned cobblestone. With a strangled yelp, she tumbled sideways, rolling instinctively to lessen the fall.

She landed with her face mere inches away from another. Glassy eyes stared back, unseeing.

The left cheek was burnt clean away, exposing a line of clenched ivory teeth. The slack, tattered mouth wobbled as if suppressing a tortured scream. It emitted instead a single black fly. The insect crawled out, paused on the remains of the lower lip. It twitched out its wings, buzzed, and flew away.

Jordan pushed herself violently backwards, away from the horrible head. Her mind swam as she realised it was just a head – still trailing part of the spinal cord.

Her stomach heaved and she turned aside, retching until her belly was empty. Tears of horror clouded her lashes. Norae knelt beside her, rubbing her back, frowning accusation at the remnants of the head. It was Jordan’s first dead body, but a far cry from a first for Norae.

“Come on,” she said at length, tugging Jordan upright. “Will get used to it.”

“I don’t want to get used to it!” Jordan croaked, wiping her mouth with her sleeve.

“Sorry,” Norae replied – for want of anything else to say.

Jordan scowled but said nothing; it wasn’t Norae she was upset with.

The Callkin urged her onward, cautiously checking around each corner before proceeding. They passed many more severed limbs, shattered torsos – the carnage was unprecedented. Even Norae swallowed at the savagery that had torn the town apart. She set a careful course through the fleshy debris, skirting the blood and gore wherever possible.

Jordan trained her gaze on her feet, absorbed with avoiding a repeat fall, ignoring the horrors around her as best she could. She didn’t look up, she didn’t look around, she simply followed Norae. She was so engrossed in watching the progress of her feet that, when Norae held out a hand to stay her, she walked straight into it.

She flung her head up with a start, heart hammering, but Norae snapped a hand over her mouth to prevent her from uttering a sound. The Callkin pulled her roughly towards the base of a shattered statue, and they ducked behind it. Silent as a mouse, Norae peeked around the edge.

A sea of red spread across the large square ahead, dotted by islands of bodies. Massive crystals, black, glassy, and tall as three men, broke through the smashed cobblestones at erratic intervals. They reared high into the sky like tortured icicles. Several sported recently impaled corpses, most of which were already topped by bickering jackdaws. Toppled soldiers lay in their hundreds, fanned out like autumn leaves.

Deep in their midst, a lone woman stood in dreadful silence.

She was covered in blood, and ribbons of shadow magic swirled through the air around her. The smoky streams of Darkness curled, clinging to her midnight dress, caressing the bare skin of her arms and shoulders. She pivoted her head from side to side, lips parted, tasting the burnt air. Her eyes, black as the depths of night, roved – seeking a new target.

Norae ducked back down and pressed her back to the cold stone, mouthing a quick prayer for salvation.

“What is it?” Jordan trying to peer over the edge of the plinth to see for herself. Norae hauled her down out of sight.

“Nerys Dur’Borran,” Norae groaned. She leaned forward to grip Jordan by the shoulders and her voice dwindled to the barest squeak. “She is hunting – she sees us, Jordan, we dead!”

Jordan sobered, staying low behind their pitiful shield of her own accord. Their breath sounded loud in their own ears as they waited.

“What do we do?”

A phalanx of running soldiers, bedecked in crimson armour, distracted them. The troop carried a bristling array of weapons and wore dire expressions. Jordan leaned around the plinth to check on Nerys – she had definitely seen the soldiers. Twin balls of black flame ignited in her palms, and the strange darkness coiling around her undulated with gathering momentum. She smiled, showing sharp, pearly fangs.

Jordan hunkered back down. “We’re right in the middle! We have to move!”

Norae hesitated, her voice cracked with fear. “We move, we dead.”

“If we don’t move, we’re dead!”

The soldiers were almost upon them. The Lat’Nemele unleashed a howl from the other direction. Horrified, Jordan peeked out once more. Ribbons of Darkness flowed from her eyes and mouth, consuming her, turning her into something inhuman. The orbs of black flame she held in each hand were growing larger by the second, fizzing and popping with savage electricity.

Jordan’s heart hammered as she realised it was far too late to move, anyway. She cowered close to Norae, who rocked silently and mouthed prayers to anything that might listen.

“Oh, we’re going to die! We’re going to die!” Jordan wrapped her arms around her knees, hoping death didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would.

Above them, the plinth began to mist over with a red haze. Jordan spun away with a stifled yell, pulling Norae with her. They ducked behind a pile of broken stones, staring wide-eyed at a font of red smoke. It billowed upward into the shape of a cruelly beautiful, redhaired woman. She materialised in a rush, dressed in an ostentatious, bottle-green dress. Her oversized coronet glittered in the sunlight; myriad rings flashed as she planted her hands on her hips. She stood in full view of the Lat’Nemele, tongues of red and orange fire dancing up her arms to shimmer in waves across her shoulders. The colourful flames offset the smoky cherry hues of her hair, and Jordan caught her breath. After her myriad visions, she would recognise Fayne anywhere.

Behind the Queen, the soldiers skidded to an uneven halt, dropping to their knees. They hailed her, begging her command, but she ignored them. Her attention was riveted to the brunette across the square.

“Nerys!” she called out, “Enough!”

Her voice rang across the silence, firm, unafraid, and buoyed by the sharp edge of temper. But the Lat’Nemele only growled. The Darkness around her flared as she collected her power, fusing it into a tangled sphere of malevolence. She drew back to strike.

“Come, Jordan, our chance!” Norae tugged at her, indicating that they should run.

They bolted, but instinct turned Jordan’s head, and horror stopped her cold. The Lat’Nemele had seen them – and shifted her attack to the moving target. With reactions she didn’t know she had, Jordan leapt forward and knocked Norae out of the way just as Nerys launched the black firebolt. Jordan braced for the impact, but she wasn’t quite prepared for the force it delivered.

She cried out as the magic lashed across her back, tearing into her with demonic claws. It lacerated her shirt and skin with the speed of a whip tail, leaving an unholy burning sensation in its wake. The breath exploded from Jordan’s lungs; her eyes popped wide in horrid surprise. The darkness plunged through the open wounds. It roared through her blood, gushed into her mind, filled her with poison as it consumed her from the inside out.

Time stood still.

Jordan heard herself gasp a quiet, desperate breath.

Infinitely, she looked up, met the shocked gaze of the open-mouthed Queen.

Agonisingly, she blinked.

Slowly – so slowly – she exhaled.

And then she passed out.

Nerys threw back her dark head and screamed like a wild animal. But she did not attack again. The shadowy magic billowed around her, thickening with sinister speed until it obscured her altogether. She vanished on the spot, another wild scream echoing through the air in her wake.

Fayne’s head snapped up as the Lat’Nemele disappeared. With a furious cry, the Queen launched herself off the plinth in the direction of Nerys’ vanishing. She ported in mid-air through a rush of red smoke, and in the wake of their departure, silence descended.

It hung in the air. Palpable, frightening.

Norae screamed, flung herself over shattered stone and flesh alike, racing to reach Jordan, who lay unmoving in the dust and blood. She caught her up by the shoulders, shaking desperately. Tears rained down her cheeks as she begged her to wake. In a lucid state, she would have known that no one could survive a blast of dark magic like that, but she was too full of grief to comprehend reality. She sobbed, cursing Jordan’s stupid heroics, begging her not to die. Jordan did not respond, her skin grey, her breath stopped. Around them, the square emptied of soldiers, pressing on to inform their King of events befallen.

Soon, silence resumed but for the Callkin’s wailing. She lowered Jordan to the ground, her tears wetting the other’s face. She stroked Jordan’s cheek, shaking her head in despair, murmuring her name over and over.

Heat flared. She jerked her hand away with a yelp, nursing it as her palm throbbed an angry red. Her eyes watered from pain as much as grief, and confusion plagued her. She looked back at her fallen friend, baffled, until comprehension dawned – she flung herself out of the way as Jordan’s body caught fire.

Hissing flames tipped with blue the colour of sky, erupted around her. The inferno raged, forcing Norae to retreat to a safe distance. She did so with uneasy steps, her astonished, fearful gaze never leaving the burning girl for a moment. As the fire roared, Jordan’s entire body surged upright, levitating above the ground like a puppet suspended on strings. A sharp cry fled from her lips; her back arched as her eyes flew open. The flames gathered intensity, hugging her form, coalescing in brilliant illumination. As Norae gaped, Jordan’s hair shimmered from mousy blonde to a vibrant shade of lilac, her eyes turned from blue-grey to true silver. Time seemed to hang suspended as a dark bubble gathered above Jordan’s prone chest. Shadows chased each other within the translucent, smoky orb, until – at last – it burst, setting free hundreds of smoky black butterflies. Purple whips of flame flashed out with incredible speed, incinerating the shadows, and not a single butterfly escaped.

The inferno subsided, and Jordan’s body drifted to the ground. The flames snuffed themselves, and Norae blinked at the return to the normal light of day – dull in comparison to the flaring magic. Jordan groaned and rolled over, pushing herself unsteadily to a sitting position. Foggy, she squinted, blinking hard.

“Norae…?” she croaked. Her voice was parched, papery. “Got any water? I’m so thirsty…”

The mundane request spurred the incredulous Callkin to action. She leapt forward, scrabbling in her pack. Speechless, she held the waterskin out to Jordan, who drained it immediately. The water had hardly cleared her throat before she was asking for more. Norae hurriedly fished out the waterstone and refilled the skin, and Jordan drained that, too. When she was sated, she wiped her lips with the back of her hand and looked up at Norae with a strange expression.

“What… happened?” she whispered, hugging herself and suppressing a shiver.

Norae, shaking her head in amazement, crouched down beside her.

“Jumped in front of shadow magic, what happened.”

“I… didn’t die?”

“No,” Norae stated flatly. “So now can kill you for scaring so.”

Jordan managed a laugh, and Norae smiled back weakly. The Callkin looked her over.

“Not all,” she continued, her expression shadowed and serious, “Have changed, Jordan.”

“Changed? The hell does that mean?”

Norae dug a small signal mirror out of her pack. She handed it to Jordan, who took it in both hands and stared at her reflection. Words failed her as strange, silver eyes blinked back. She reached up, ran a cautious hand through her bright hair.

Norae reached out to take the mirror back, lips pressed to a thin line. “Any more argument about if are the princess?”

Jordan stared at her in mute appeal.

“Cannot believe survived that,” Norae added with a snort, “No more heroics.”

“Hey!” Jordan exclaimed, “I was saving your ass!”

“Am grateful,” Norae allowed, “But are the Heir of Andoherra.” She held up a hand before Jordan could renew her protest. “Undeniable now – fool can tell by looking at you. Cannot throw self in front of deadly things.”

“Fine,” Jordan huffed, folding her arms. “Next time I’ll let you get hit by the evil fireball.”

Norae smiled. “Thank you, for saving my life, Jordan. Or should call you Jordenna now?”

“My physical appearance might be doing strange things, but I’m pretty damn sure I’m just regular old Jordan.”

“If say so.”

Norae held out a hand to help her to her feet and she rose, blowing purple strands out of her face.

She tugged on a lock and grimaced. “I wonder if I can dye this back…? I never was the punk type.”

“Pretty colour!” Norae objected. “And… look much like Asbeth, now…”

Jordan snorted. “Trick of the light, or something. C’mon, are we going to get your gryphon, or not?”

Norae smiled, though it did not reach her eyes. “Aye, but perhaps rest awhile. Regain strength. Eat something.”

“You mean you’re worried about me keeling over again.”

“You died, Jordan.”

Jordan’s face darkened. A hum shivered across her shoulders, rippling across the rest of her body. She forced a deep breath, and then nodded.

“I do feel a little shaky,” she admitted.

Norae lifted her gaze to the blighted sun, quartering its descent to the horizon. “Not for long, mind. Do not know how long Dark of the Sun is supposed to take. Come, will find quiet corner until nightfall, scavenge something from shop.”

“Isn’t that, like, stealing?”

A wry grin ghosted across Norae’s worried face. “Do not believe princess can steal. Not worry, will leave some coin.”

Jordan sighed, feeling strangely light-headed. The thought of food heartened her, whatever the means of attaining it.

“All right. Lead the way.”