Other cracks and crevices held crimson magma, seething sluggishly, but even though they weren’t that deep, the magma’s heat didn’t rise up to the surface, as though the heat lacked the strength to travel that far. The air itself was thin, and disturbingly lacking in any smell. I clapped my hands sharply, and there was no echo. I was pretty sure the sound wouldn’t travel far either. We all stuck close together, looking around us, because we were the only living things in this running-down world.

“This is the place where quests fail,” Subway Sue said quietly. “Where love is always unrequited, promises are broken, and only bad dreams come true.”

“Then how the hell are we supposed to succeed in our mission?” said the Sarjeant-at-Arms. He sounded like he wanted to be angry, but it was just too much of an effort.

“We brought something of our own universe with us,” said Molly. “Enough to give us a fighting chance. But the longer we stay here, the sooner that insulation will wear away. We really need to get moving.”

“This is the broken world,” said Subway Sue, almost hypnotised. “The shoddy lands, the abandoned territory . . .”

“All right,” I said. “You’re starting to get on my nerves now, Sue. This is a bad place; got it. Now get over it, and tell me where the hell we’re supposed to head for.”

She looked at me with big, unfocused eyes. “Say the name, Eddie Drood. Say the name of where you want to get to.”

“Just do it, Eddie,” Molly murmured in my ear. “She’s more in tune with this place than I am. She understands the hidden ways; they talk to her.”

“We need to get inside Truman’s base under Stonehenge,” I announced, speaking clearly and distinctly into the silence, and feeling just a bit silly. My words didn’t echo. They seemed to fall flat and lifeless on the still air.

“There!” said Subway Sue, pointing off to one side with a sharp finger. “There is our destination.”

Far off in the distance, a beam of light stabbed up into the dying sky like a beacon. It was bright and clear and glorious, very definitely not a natural part of this world. It shone like hope, like a promise . . . like a way out.

“This is a dying world,” Giles Deathstalker said unexpectedly. “Where entropy is king.”

“Don’t you start,” I said firmly.

I have no idea how long we walked, under that bloody moon and the disappearing stars, across that sere and blasted plain. The night never ended, landmarks were few and far between, and we soon discovered none of our watches worked. But it felt like forever. I did my best to set a steady pace, leading from the front, circling around the deep craters and jumping across the cracks and crevices. The ground was hard-packed and unyielding under my feet, but strangely there was hardly any impact, no matter how hard I stamped. We made no sound as we walked, and our few conversations seemed to just trail away to nothing, until even the impulse to talk faded away, set against such an overwhelming silence. So we trudged on across the endless plain, while the grinding silence wore away at our thoughts and emotions and plans. Until only slow, dogged determination kept me moving, a simple refusal to be beaten by this awful place.