They streaked through the ominously lit, yet extremely chilly night sky, the wind pelting their faces as they continued onwards in the direction of the light. As they flew on, Milius suddenly became aware that the spaces between the pulsations were getting smaller, and the light ahead getting brighter.

“Hurry!” he said desperately.

On and on they raced forward, until, at last, they reached the spot. Looking down upon the area from above, they saw the white marble tomb; it was glowing, emitting the piercing, blinding burst of energy that was pouring into the air, flooding the night sky with that foreboding red light, while enormous, dark red circles of energy issued from around it. The whole area, once deeply forested, was now completely clear, dry, parched.

“Let's go!” Sirius shouted, and they plunged downwards. As the dragons landed, another pulsation struck the land. Hestia screamed, but luckily, everyone managed to remain on top of the dragons. They launched themselves to the ground, and the five Knights stepped forward, Cole a little reluctantly, while the others drew back.

They set off towards the tomb, but had barely moved five feet when Minerva suddenly screamed, “What is that?”

They jerked their heads upwards, and Milius felt his heart sink: Malidreus was soaring towards them, his massive, void-black body like a great, black beacon against the brilliant sky.

“It's Malidreus!” he said. “The dragon that went rogue!”

“That's the sixth dragon?” Sirius said, gazing up at Malidreus, the tiniest note of awe in his deep voice.

“But what's he doing here?” Ariana said urgently.

A question that seemed to be shared by the remaining dragons who all, including Cerea, were snapping and snarling, incensed by their brethren’s arrival. Before anyone could say or do anything, they had spread their vast wings and soared off after him.

“No!” Ariana, Milius, Sirius, and Shakil shouted. But Malidreus had wheeled around too and was gliding smoothly away, the other dragons following closely.

“We shall have to save our concern for them for later,” Calder said, sounding impatient. “For now, your task is before you.”

“He's right,” Milius said, grinding his teeth. “That's what Archimedes said too — the tomb first, Malidreus later.”

And, tearing their gazes away from the disappearing figures of the six dragons, they rushed off again. The tomb was burning — literally. Heat was rising in waves around it, almost overwhelming, even under their Dragonknight’s armour, but they pressed on. And as they drew closer, Milius saw a segment of the tomb that had certainly not been present the first time they had seen it. It was an octagonal stone slab protruding from the top of the tomb, the only part of it that wasn't glowing. There were five long slits carved into it, each of them positioned beneath a different jewel, the same size and shape as those embedded in the swords.

“One for each of us,” Shakil said.

“Well, let's get to it,” Sirius said, but Shakil had gripped his arm. “What?”

“Look,” Shakil said. He pointed from one jewel to the next, starting with the ruby, the first jewel in line, all the way to the Sapphire, which was last. The ruby was a bright scarlet, just like the one encrusted in Vulcatrix’s hilt, but every other jewel was blank and dull. “I think we should go in order,” Shakil continued. “One at a time, and the order we place the swords in . . . might be the order of the inscriptions, to form the spell!”

His sentence was punctuated by another colossal pulsation.

“Well, hurry!” Ariana shrieked.

“Ruby first —” Sirius said. He raised Vulcatrix and plunged it into the slit; the sword sank deep into the gap, so that only the hilt was left visible. The ruby on the stone platform began to glow, and the jewel beside it regained colour. “Topaz — you,” Sirius snarled, and he flung out an arm, seized Cole, and thrust him forward. Timidly, he raised Gaiden and inserted it.

“Emerald next,” Ariana said. She swept forward and drove Stormpyre into its alloted spot.

“Amethyst —” Milius said as the next jewel brightened. He approached, raising Palpatunde, all too eager to comply, for whatever he had said about Frederick, everything was, as Archimedes had told him, his fault. He thrust the blade downwards —

But his whole body suddenly went rigid, hanging stock-still over the slab as though he had been petrified, Palpatunde suspended over its opening.

“What —?” Shakil gasped.

Milius was completely paralyzed, much like he had been in the exhibition earlier — no, exactly as he had been. Terrified, he looked down. A solid sheet of darkness was rising from the ground and over his feet, completely coating his body; his own shadow had stretched over him, binding him entirely.

“Milius!” Sirius shouted, and he made to dash forward, but, without warning, a fully grown man suddenly blossomed from the ground before him and struck his chin with a powerful uppercut, knocking him over backwards — a Void Hunter.

“You!” Ariana screamed. “But — what are you doing —? Nooo!”

The figure who had punched Sirius had thrust his arms out towards her, and much like it had happened with Malidreus, a solid block of darkness flew from his hands and slammed into her, sending her flying backwards. Shakil leapt on top of him, swinging Oceannerva, but the man dashed out of the way. Shakil darted off after him, but Milius, his head frozen in place by his own shadow, could see no more. His shadow had stretched along the blade as well, so that it looked like a shaft of obsidian rather than silver as it dangled in the air.

“Why are you doing this?” he said, barely able to move his mouth. “I thought you were supposed to help people!”

“Oh, you can sense me, can you?” said a cold, snide voice in his ear, and a man suddenly bloomed from his shadow like some bizarre, fast-growing flower, but unlike before he seemed suspended between substance and shadow, coiling around Milius like a grotesque snake. He put his mouth to Milius’s ear and hissed, “I can't let you reset that seal, little Knight.”

“Why?” spat Milius. “This god will destroy the entire world!”

“Hmm . . . maybe not the entire world,” the Hunter mused.

“What do you —” And then he understood. “You work for him!” he gasped. “Void Giant — Void Hunters — powers over darkness — of course!”

“Indeeed, little one. The Void Hunters were initially created to serve the Dark Lord, but when he was bested, we were forced to ‘change,’ to become heroes,” he sneered. “It was the only way to avoid being imprisoned, or even slaughtered, having been weakened by our Master’s sealing, to renounce our Master and pledge our allegiance to the light. We bided our time, making face, throwing suspicion off ourselves as we waited to see what would become of our Master, unsure whether he would rise again . . . we almost gave up hope. . . . But then we saw the light!” he said suddenly, his voice dripping with a rush of callous excitement. “We felt our Master's heart beat again, and we rushed here at once. Soon, very soon, you will bear witness to the oldest, greatest god of all. You, Milius Manchester, will be the first sacrifice of the new age to the Void Giant!”

“You know, I don't think I will be,” Milius said lightly.

The Hunter hissed again. “You joke, Milius Manchester? In this time, when our Master is on the verge of resurrection?”

“Oh, it's no joke,” Milius said, and the amethyst flared with light; he heard the Hunter gasp, felt the coils of his shadow loosen as he made to slip back into darkness, but he wasn't fast enough —

Spiral ripples of violet energy exploded from the sword, ripping away the shadows, the blackness covering the blade, and the Hunter wound around his body, who screamed as the energy hit him, blasting him across the yard. The tomb was burning white now, almost too bright to look at. Milius half-closed his eyes and plunged the blade downwards, and it slid smoothly into its slit, all the way down to the hilt.

“SHAKIL!” he roared, wheeling about. He looked around, blinking rapidly, and saw Aaron, Basil, Calder, and Demus crowded around Hestia, Frederick, and Minerva, who seemed to be injured on the ground, lashing their walking sticks at several enormous black dogs cantering around them; Ariana and Sirius battling against the second Void Hunter; and Shakil, turning away from the last, who had ducked aside as he swung, and pelting towards him.

Everything seemed to slow, as though the Temporal Paladins were also on the scene, distorting time. Shakil reached the tomb after what felt like an eternity; he dove forward, pushed Milius roughly out of the way, and made to drive Oceannerva into the last slot —

But it was too late: the tomb exploded with a flare of brilliant white light, and Milius felt himself flying backwards, blinded, his ears filled with the rushing, roaring sound of the ground being torn apart beneath him. Sight was extinguished, the world had gone quiet, and Milius could feel nothing more. Everything had gone deathly still. . . .

Then vision and sound came back with a sudden rush, and with a noise like an explosion, huge plumes of darkness erupted from the ground, ripping it apart as they flew. They gathered in the air, coiling, undulating, spiraling, and Milius gazed at it in horror.

He heard a sharp intake of breath and looked around, against his will, and he gasped himself. Everyone on the scene seemed to have been affected by the sudden flare, even the Void Hunters, who were sprawled some feet away, barely stirring. To his right, Calder was standing over Minerva, whose entire left side was drenched in scarlet, with what seemed to be an enormous curved, jagged object protruding from her robes.

“MOTHER!”

The gutteral cry burst from his mouth, leaving his throat rough and dry. He scrambled to his feet and hurtled to her side, his legs wobbling dangerously, his chest aching, his heart pounding against his chest. But he did not care about the pain, he did not care about the spires of darkness steadily taking shape behind him, he did not care about anything. A numb disbelief was stealing over him, expelling everything else from his mind. Finally he reached her, and he dropped to his knees, looking down at her, terrified. The object was a great white fang, embedded in her side as though it had been broken off from the roof of one of the Hellhounds he had seen earlier.

“Mother!”

“M — Milius,” she croaked. Blood was streaming from her mouth, her skin pale and clammy.

“Milius —” Calder reached out to place a hand on his shoulder.

“Don't touch me!” he screamed, slapping his hand away. His chest was heaving, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. He couldn't believe it — he wouldn't —

“Milius —”

“Mother, no, don't talk! You'll be all right, I — I promise —”

Another colossal crash sounded from behind them and Milius looked around, distracted. A tendril of darkness had erupted from the mass gathering steadily in midair and reached down, now holding what was unmistakably the obsidian-hilted blade. But something was wrong; a harsh, flickering, white light, like a burst of some kind of pale electricity was crackling amid the cloud of darkness, which was drawing back with each flare. It didn't seem able to hold on to Ectomorda.

“What's it doing?” he demanded of Calder.

“He's trying to claim the sword!” Aaron shrieked.

“Can he do that?” Shakil shouted from Milius’s left.

“If the current wielder dies, anyone can!”

“But — why — why can't it hold it?” Shakil asked.

“It can't, not long as the present Knight still breathes; it is still bonded to that Frederick boy — But what would it need the sword for?”

“The souls!” Shakil shouted. “That sword, the first Sapphire Knight told me, it absorbs souls!” he added, in answer to their bewildered looks.

“But what does it need with souls?” Ariana said.

“Energy!” Calder said. “He's trying to gain a physical form, but he has no other source of energy to maintain it! If he claims the sword, he’ll be able to release and absorb them. We must retrieve the blade!”

“How?” Milius said.

He looked around, as if hoping a solution would swoop out of the sudden darkness, and saw a glint of gold on the ground near Sirius, who stooped down as though to pick it up. As he straightened up, Milius saw that he was now holding a small crystal tube — the vial of Nectar! It must have become dislodged from his pocket as he was blown away and, as Milius watched, the stopper disappeared, as Pan had said it would when the vial’s contents would be truly necessary. It could now be used.

Sirius looked up in disbelief, and his eyes met Milius’s, then fell upon Minerva, beside him.

“Sirius — Sirius, quickly!”

But Sirius did not move. He looked anguished as his piercing blue eyes roved from Milius, to Minerva, and to the sword behind them, still rejecting the touch of the tendril of darkness.

“Sirius. . . ?”

And a pained expression came over his face. Milius saw him mouth something and he turned away — I'm sorry.

Milius watched, horrorstruck, as he rushed over to Hestia and Cole, knelt down beside Frederick, and tipped the vial of Nectar into his mouth. Milius stared, aghast, as Frederick straightened up, moments later, completely healed. Ectomorda’s obsidian flared with dark purple light, the tendril of darkness was pushed back with a screech of pain, and the sword soared at once out of Alcyeoneus’s grasp and back to Frederick, and Milius looked down as Minerva said his name once again.

“Mi . . . lius . . .”

And as the word left her lips she heaved a heavy breath and became still, and tears began to stream down Milius’s face as, his mouth open in shock and terror, he stared her into eyes, so very like his own, wide and blank and staring.