Regulus led him through a door framed in the wall behind the large wooden table, into a hallway lined, not with portraits, but with what looked like souvenirs from the Paladins’ past escapades: there was a cracked silver helmet; a spotted shard of an aged mirror; a long, scarlet feather with a golden tip; an enormous, moldy fang as long as Milius’s arm, broken at the root; and what appeared to be a wizard's wand, with a fluffy white tuft sprouting from the end.

“Merlin’s, they said,” Regulus said, seeing Milius eyeing the wand. “Got it from him about three hundred years ago.”

“Hmm,” Milius said, mildly interested. “So what happened at the Palace, exactly?” he said abruptly. “Hunters were standing there fine and then the light appeared and all of a sudden they're rabid killers?”

“Looks so. All we know is, we were all enjoying the after-party, and soon after that, the earthquakes started; at the same time, we noticed the sky outside. The Hunters had gone up to their rooms with the Archers and the Paladins and hadn't been seen since the Exhibition, but soon after the light appeared, they came back downstairs . . . and then this happened.”

He had stopped outside a small, peach-walled room, with a single bed, whose door stood ajar. Regulus motioned Milius forward, and as he entered he saw, lain upon the bed —

“Is he dead?” Milius breathed, his eyes widening in horror.

“That, I think, would be a greater mercy compared to this,” Regulus said grimly. “But no.”

King Haygar was lying across the bed, in almost exactly the same position as Minerva had been; one of his arms was by his side, but the other had been taken by Porella, who was perched on the edge of a chair beside the bed, her face wet with tears. She did not even look up as they entered. By the light of the overhead lanterns, Milius saw that the hand that Porella was holding was black and charred-looking, as though it had been eaten by flames — along with the rest of his skin.

“He's still alive, but barely,” Regulus said. “They have a weird thing with shadows, those people; they turned his inwards, used it to attack his body from the inside.”

“How do you know that?” Milius asked, repulsed by the very thought.

“Because they told us,” said Porella. She sounded as though she had a bad head cold. “They went for him first, ranting about how the ‘one true king’ had returned, and that all others would be sacrificed to him, how their bones would be used to rebuild his throne — lunatics, all of them. They did this, and everyone tried to run, but they just went on, slaughtering everyone they could reach — men, women” — her breath caught — “children. The Sandstone Archers and the Temporal Paladins heard the commotion and came down too. If it weren't for them . . .” She hung her head, sniffling, her body shaking with renewed sobs.

“So they were working for the god?” Regulus said, after another strained pause. Porella looked up, shocked. “Is that it?”

“Yes,” Milius said. “He created them, thousands of years ago. But they changed sides when he was defeated, took up appearances as heroes so they wouldn't be taken down with him, but they were just biding their time. I guess it helped that they kept up the air of mystery, nobody knew much about them, or what they could do, or about the fact that they never changed ranks throughout all that time.”

“But what does that mean for us? If this god, whoever he is, has been reborn, and they're fighting with him —”

“That's why we're here,” Milius said. “We're working with the Paladins and the Archers, some are staying here with everyone else, the rest are going back with us, to fight. We came to bring you all to our new hideout. You'll be safe there.”

“I'm not leaving,” Porella said at once; Milius looked back at her, taken aback. “My husband is barely alive, he can't be moved in his condition, and the Paladins are using this place’s magic to slow the effects of — whatever this is. It's too risky to go. Besides, how can we go? We were just appointed King and Queen before the entire country, and it is our job to rule, and to protect, what will they think if we were to abandon them at this crucial hour?”

“But —”

Regulus shook his head. “We can't go with you, Milius. There's nothing we can do, we'll just be a burden.”

Milius hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” And Regulus actually smiled, a warm, genuine expression. Then a second later, to Milius’s slight surprise, he moved forward and hugged him. Milius stood frozen in place for a moment, shocked, then he relaxed, smiled as well, and returned the gesture. Then they pulled apart. “Go get ‘em, then.”

Milius’s eyes moved from each of their faces to the motionless form of Haygar beside them. The image of Minerva back at Knight's Tower flickered into his mind, horribly vivid, but Milius pushed it aside. The Void Hunters had already done enough damage; he would not let them do any more. He nodded, Regulus and Porella turned back to Haygar, Porella leaning against her son, Regulus with his arm around her, and Milius turned and strode away.

Down the winding corridors he went, so lost in his own mind that he didn't even realize that he had passed his destination until he found himself halfway down a hallway with a most unfamiliar suit of armour in front of him. He was on the verge of calling out, for whom he did not know, but something caught his eye, distracting him from his plight.

It was a sliver of light, stretching across the wall up ahead.

Slowly, cautiously, he advanced, looking around to see whether anyone would come marching up to him to reprimand him for being in a spot he was unsure whether he had permission to be in. But no one did. He stopped in front of the door through which the light was streaming from, through the tiniest crack, and pushed it open.

The room was small, but completely empty, with the exception of a single orb of shimmering white light hovering stationary in the center. It was almost like the spheres of energy that had been inside each of the Catacombs, but it was somehow more tender.

Milius shuffled towards it, gazing intently at it, and raised a hand absently as though to touch it, feeling the pleasant warmth around his fingers —

“I wouldn't do that.”

Milius started and wheeled around, his hand flying to his sword. It was Cole, standing in the doorway clutching his own. Milius relaxed, though he pulled his hand from Palpatunde’s hilt rather reluctantly.

“And why shouldn't I?” Milius said, watching him suspiciously.

Cole shrugged. “Isn't this whole mess going because you kept touching stuff you shouldn't have?”

“What — I — I didn't know!” Milius spluttered, heat rising in his cheeks.

“Exactly, but —” He motioned at Milius in a kind of and-yet-here-you-are gesture.

“Why are you even here?” Milius growled.

Cole sighed. “I wanted to talk to you — actually talk, man to man — or, I suppose, you're not a man just yet —” he added thoughtfully.

“What do you want?”

Cole dropped Gaiaden, the topaz sparkling in the light of the orb behind them, and held up his arms. “To start over.”

Milius raised an eyebrow. He glanced down at Gaiaden again, and after a moment's indecision, set Palpatunde down too, though more gently. Then he straightened up and looked at Cole, his arms folded. “I'm listening.”

“We got off on the wrong foot,” Cole said, “and I take full responsibility for that. It's just, back in our village, we had a bit of a rough time. Favours weren't really — favours. Everything came at a cost —” Milius suddenly remembered what Cole had said about debts when he had been trying to get Hestia and Frederick to leave the Dragoon Cave with him “— and sooner or later, you'd have to pay. And if you couldn't . . . Well, to put it simply, there's another reason we had to come here to live with Hestia and Frederick’s Aunt.

“We had too much on our plates, and we couldn't pay, and the people we owed were coming to call. It wasn't safe, so we had to leave. It's why I didn't want your help at first: because I wouldn't be able to pay for it.”

“But we don't want —” Milius began.

“I know that now,” Cole interjected. “I'm not blaming you, I'm just trying to explain my position earlier. But now” — he took a deep, shaky breath — “things are more complicated. I don't know what's going on with this sword business, but I think that the reason Frederick wanted the other one — apart from his fascination with all things magic — is what I told you earlier. Power, to protect us from the people who wanted to hurt us. I was wrong before, this isn't all your fault — I took one of the swords and Frederick took the other.

“But he's still alive, we know that now. So I propose a truce. I'll cooperate, help you fight this god, and you all help me save Frederick. I know he's not your favourite person right now,” he added quickly, seeing Milius’s look of incredulity, “but once we get him back, and this is all over, then we'll hand you both swords to do — whatever — and we'll leave, as initially planned. Deal?” He held out his hand.

Milius stood for a moment, surveying Cole with a mixture of appraisal and suspicion. It sounded as though he was being genuine enough, and with everything happening, it would be good if all the Knights were on the same page, especially if they were willing to hand over the swords and disappear when all was said and done; but Milius wasn't too sure of where he stood on Frederick’s case. He still felt deeply resentful towards him: true, they had all agreed to continue the journey to obtain the items in their respective Catacombs, but it was Frederick who had disobeyed them, attacked them, and freed Malidreus, as well as Alcyeoneus.

Milius amused himself for a moment with the thought of rescuing Frederick from Alcyeoneus and instead tossing him to the savage black dragon that he had so foolishly freed in his eagerness to have, and immediately seized on the idea, though he knew no one else would approve and that that would be dishonorable to go back on his word like that. “Fine,” he said, and he took Cole’s hand and shook.

“Good, so where do we go from here?”

“You can start with the main room, where everyone is waiting so we can head back,” said Shakil’s annoyed voice; both Milius and Cole leapt again, and they turned to see Shakil standing at the doorway beside Tamron, looking impatient. “Come on!”

They scuttled along to the main room, where they found Sirius, Shya, Lucas and the others addressing the crowd of Halgarians.

“. . . you won't be here for long, we'll take care of the Void Hunters, and everyone working with them, and you'll be free to return to the village,” Sirius was saying. “In the meantime, the Paladins and Archers will be here to watch over you, and we'll send as many others as we can to join you here until this is over. Until then —” He waved, hugged his still-sobbing sister and mother and even Regulus, and then joined their circle again. Milius waved as well, Lucas’s ring flared once more, and they were gone.