Away from the small clearing, the forest was dark, but Fleya could have found her way back home with her eyes closed. Her encounter with the god had dispelled some of the fatigue she’d felt, and she replayed their conversation as she walked, considering everything she’d been told. She still didn’t trust Rakur, but she had no choice but to listen to him now. One thing was for sure: she and Lann must journey to the coast, to the city of Stromgard. There, they would have to get an audience with an imprisoned prince. And they must do so in less than five days.

Lost in her thoughts, she was not aware of the creatures lying in wait to attack her until it was too late.

Lann was in a deep sleep when he woke suddenly to the sight of the house wight looming over him. Halbe’s shadowy face was so close it was almost touching his own, but no breath came from her open mouth. When he cried out in alarm, the wight momentarily disappeared, winking out of existence before reappearing again almost as quickly. Lann started to mumble an apology, stopping when he saw the extreme distress on the spectre’s face.

‘What’s wrong?’ Lann said, throwing back the covers. He stopped, staring down at the sword in his hand, his heart beating furiously in his chest.

He hadn’t taken the blade into bed with him. He distinctly remembered putting it next to the nightstand in its scabbard. Now here it was, unsheathed, in his grip. Maybe Halbe hadn’t woken him after all, maybe it had been the sword. Because it was talking – a haunting, urgent whisper repeated over and over.

Nir-akuu. Monsters.

The house wight raised a hand in the direction of the door at the rear of the cabin.

Fleya.

Throwing a cloak about him, Lann hurried through the cabin and out into the gloom of the woods beyond.

Long, thin clouds raced across a moon that briefly painted their edges with its silvery light. It was cold, but the temperature hardly registered with the boy as he ran through the trees. The sword was more than a weapon now. It was a thing of energy, and the power coursing through his body excited and scared him in equal measure. It was also his guide, and he knew the blade sensed where and what the danger was.

Nir-akuu, it continued to repeat in that eerie voice.

A cry, unmistakeably Fleya, caused him to take off in the direction of the noise, ducking branches that whipped at his face and skin. A tiny part of him told him it was foolish to rush headlong into danger like this, but his aunt needed him.