After some endless stretch of minutes, with hissing cries and a lazy slap-slap-slap of the air, the three creatures perching on the roof above them flew away.

Dreen Brislyn’s face was so pale it was almost translucent. “After what we heard last night, Elvado is surely infested. And if Danfey is not stopped, the same fate awaits the rest of Dorana. Lady Martain, we can’t live with those monsters among us!”

Venette sighed. “Call me Venette. Under these circumstances, formality seems absurd. As for Morgan’s pets…” She felt herself shudder with revulsion. “I don’t much like our chances of hunting them down, Dreen. Not without the aid of magic.”

Dreen tried to summon glimfire, but only succeeded in scorching her hand. Stung with pain, she stared at the empty sky. “So we’re at the mercy of Barl Lindin’s powers and her intermittent conscience? Is that it?”

“It would appear so.”

“Wonderful. I don’t suppose you can explain her magework, Venette?”

“No. Doubtless Bellamie Ranowen would have puzzled out the truth of it.” But the once-maligned mage was wings and fangs and talons, now. Poor Bellamie. “If I had to guess, I’d say it has something do with the fact that her magic, and Morgan’s, are responsible for these disruptions.”

“And you’re probably right.” Dreen laughed, bitter. “Seeing as his magework is also in fine working fettle. Oh, Venette. If only—”

“What?” Venette said, when Dreen didn’t finish. “If only we’d realised what was going on right under our noses, and put a stop to it before any of this could happen?”

Dreen’s lips trembled, then firmed. “The General Council trusted you. Every mage in Dorana trusted you. The Council of Mages’ purpose is to keep us safe from magework run amok.”

And the Council of Mages had failed. Searingly aware of her own part in that, Venette folded her arms. “I appreciate your dismay, Lady Brislyn. However—”

With a shrieking, groaning crash a fabric shop three doors along from them collapsed to splintered ruins. Tension forgotten, they stared at the destruction—then ran as the air began to thicken with mage-mist.

Instinct and desperation sent Venette towards Elvado’s central plaza and the Hall of Knowledge, for so long her touchstone and her second home. They helped her keep to the vanishing shadows, avoid the treacherous drifts of mage-mist, the gaping holes in the streets where magic’s fabric was giving way. Dreen kept pace with her, grimly panting.

As they ran they saw more bloody, mutilated bodies, but no other living soul.

Reaching the edge of the plaza, they stumbled against one of the pillars supporting the general library’s grand portico. Blotted sweat from their faces and heaved air into their burning lungs. In the smothering hush, the central fountain’s splashing water sounded loud and obscenely playful.