Valkyrie pushed through the darkness, went stumbling, managed to fall beside Melancholia. She grabbed her. “Kill me,” she whispered. Melancholia tried to push her away, but Valkyrie gripped her tighter. “Kill me. It’s our only chance.”

“What are you—”

With the last ounce of her strength, Valkyrie punched. It wasn’t a good punch, and it wasn’t a strong punch, but it did the job, and Melancholia’s anger flared.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she growled. Her eyes narrowed.

Valkyrie took a breath, immediately felt cold. She could sense Melancholia reaching out with her mind, using her last reserves to expand the death bubble around them both. Then the bubble retracted, and Valkyrie started to go with it, started to leave her body. As she was pulled gently closer to Melancholia, she paused a while to examine what was happening. Her body’s heartbeat slowed. Her brainwaves began to flatten. The bio-electricity in her body dampened. She was leaving her shell behind, and her thoughts were becoming clouded. She was about to lose who she was. Her identity was in her personality, and her personality rested in her body. Fascinating. The whole process was so very fascinating.

She couldn’t allow it to happen, of course. She pulled back, felt her synapses firing again, felt her heart quicken, felt her body around her. Melancholia’s eyes were closed. It was all too much for her, the poor thing. Still, she’d done her job. She’d endangered Valkyrie’s life, and awoken the beast within.

Darquesse stood up, and looked at Lord Vile. “Be honest,” she said. “You’ve been looking forward to this, haven’t you?”

Vile opened both hands, pulling shadows from the mouth of the cave. They curled and thrashed behind him, then rose in a giant wave that rolled towards her. Darquesse fell to one knee under the onslaught. It was a test. He was testing her, seeing how strong she was. When the wave was gone, she lunged. He ducked under the punch and grabbed her low, lifting her off her feet, taking her to the grass. His fists came down, battering her face. She tried to wrap her legs around his waist but his armour expanded, keeping her from locking her ankles together. His fists were hammers, driving her down into the ground, the earth giving way beneath her. An extraordinary sensation.

She reached up with one hand, her fingers gripping his armour, and she pulled him down to her as she rose up, slamming her forehead into his armour-plated face with enough force to break boulders. Vile swayed slightly and she heaved herself out of the depression she had made, flipping them both over, just like Skulduggery had taught her. Had taught Valkyrie. Whatever.