Lann began moving in the direction of his aunt when the sword sang its harsh battle cry again in his head. At the same moment, a horde of vile and terrible creatures appeared from within the huge arch-shaped construction, those at the front pushed out by the mass of others behind them as they surged forward. Things no human eyes should see spilt out into this world, causing him to shrivel inside with terror. As he watched, one of the monsters raised its head in Fleya’s direction and started moving towards her.

He heard Astrid shout out, and it was this sound, not the screaming cries of the Dreadblade, that spurred him into action. He wasn’t aware that he had set off down the hill, his legs only just staying beneath him and finding the next footing as he hurtled down the steep slope.

He too was screaming now, a great war cry that echoed the words of the blade, the two in unison once more as they sought to prevent the shadowy thing from reaching Fleya. There was a harsh, fizzing sound above him, and he caught the flash of the arrow in flight as it cut through the air not far over his head. Astrid’s aim was true, and he saw the arrowhead find a home in the foul creature’s chest, knocking it back for a moment. But it was only for a moment. The monster swiped at the arrow in annoyance, snapping the wooden shaft with a swat of its claws, even as a second found a home in its shoulder.

Time seemed to slow – a cruel trick of the mind that made Lann realise that no matter what he and Astrid tried, Fleya’s fate was sealed. The monster was almost on her, reaching out with long, curved talons to tear her apart. Without faltering, Lann raised the black sword, lifting his arm up over his shoulder before launching it forward again with all his might to hurl the blade.

End over end the dark blade tumbled through the space between the youth and the monster. He could hear it as it flew, and he knew the monster heard it too. But the dark creature would not be distracted from its goal. Its eyes still fixed on the witch, lips peeled back in a ghastly grimace, it swung its arm in a wide arc, raking those awful claws through Fleya’s body. Lann shuddered when he heard his aunt’s terrible cry of pain – a cry that was echoed, too late, by her attacker, the creature falling back and crashing to the ground as the sword buried itself deep in its throat.