“Fool,” she whispered, “what happened to you?”

Fool tilted its head, then said, “Oh! The eyes! Yes, this was the Master’s punishment for me being fooled by Amber Lamont.” It giggled. “Fool being fooled.”

“The Shining Demon did this to you? Did it hurt?”

“Obviously.”

“Oh Jesus …”

“Don’t worry. Bigmouth makes up for it. Having a pet is nice.”

“Fool, a Hound arrived here a few minutes ago. He had someone with him. Where did they go?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does, Fool. It matters to me. I have to find my friend.”

“No, Amber Lamont,” said Fool, “it doesn’t matter which way they went. All ways lead to the same place.”

So Amber started running.

The corridors here were wider. Much wider. She turned corners and ran on. In some corridors, the screams were so loud that she expected to burst into a torture chamber. In others, they were so faint it was like she was leaving them behind. But there were always new screams. That was the one constant in the land of the Blood-dimmed King.

She passed through junction after junction, chose a direction at random, and ran on. The geography of the castle was impossible. She was never in the same place twice and yet she should have been, she should have criss-crossed and doubled back, but every step she ran was a step on to fresh ground. She was running through another junction of corridors when movement caught her eye. She followed it, moving quickly but quietly now, catching up to her quarry.

Then she saw him.

In the land of the Blood-dimmed King, the Hound’s true form was revealed. He was bigger, bulkier, his hair longer and thicker, his skin a deep mottled brown. His heavy jaw jutted awkwardly, like it had been repeatedly broken and badly reset. Sharp teeth strained against his lips. The Hound’s nose had melted back into his face, and his eyes were a simmering yellow. He dragged Milo by the ankle. Milo was too unconscious to care.

Amber spent too long trying to figure out a plan of attack. Before she’d even looked around for a weapon, the Hound was entering a grand hall of mirrored walls, at the centre of which was a throne, and, atop that throne, Astaroth, the Shining Demon.

Fierce orange light burned from within him and, reflected in the thousands of mirrors, lit up the whole hall. Upon his translucent skin were islands of black, like missing jigsaw pieces.

Amber’s time was up. The moment for sneakiness had passed.

She sprinted after the Hound, intending to shove him aside, grab Milo, and run. But he saw her coming – of course he did, how could he not? – and he turned, catching her with a swinging arm. She had thought the Hounds had been strong on the streets of Desolation Hill – but here, this Hound’s strength was something else entirely.