We burst into existence in the ever-after, a stream of howling demons following us as we fought for altitude, dodging broken shells of buildings. Ku’Sox was just ahead, and the demons surged after him, screaming their vengeance, red magic streaming behind them. It was truly the Wild Hunt, and I would be lying if I said it didn’t scare the crap out of me.

On Ku’Sox fled, and on we followed, hounding him, following him through line after line as he tried to shake us like a fox traveling down a river. We sped through reality, causing fear and awe among those who saw us, a red smear of magic howling against the stars, rising in the heat from the buildings and dropping over the cool woods. Over the ever-after we tore, sending up gouts of red dust as we followed dead rivers and empty lakes, scoured by the gritty wind. We followed until Bis grew exhausted from mending the lines and rode in his father’s arms and I slumped behind Trent, weary and heartsick. This was not me. I didn’t thirst for vengeance, even vengeance justly earned. I did not demand blood for blood. I did this to live without fear. I wanted an end to it.

Still, each line we mended gave the gargoyles strength until they were reaching for Ku’Sox’s wings, the purity of the lines a harsh contrast to the demons’ base desire for death. Then Etude’s weight shifted, and I realized we were landing.

“What?” I said, pulling my head up from Trent’s back where I’d been hiding, wishing it was over.

“He’s gone to ground!” Trent shouted, pointing, and I looked at the dusty red earth, brightening in the coming sunrise. Demons were sliding from the backs of their gargoyles, clustered about a small pile of rock. Slowly Etude spiraled down. The noise of the earth strengthened, and my stomach twisted. This was the end.

Etude found a place, his wings closing the instant his feet lightly touched the ground. Trent slid from him easily, and I slowly followed. My hand on Trent’s shoulder, I stumbled after him, pushing through the demons and gargoyles to find Ku’Sox’s hole.

“We’ll never get him out of there,” I said, looking at the brightening sky. Already the black of the hazy sky was turning to a faint pink, and the gritty wind was picking up. I didn’t know where we were—all places were the same in the ever-after.

“Or maybe we will,” I said again as I realized the gargoyles, though weary from flight, were tearing great gaping holes in the earth. Like organized terriers, they dug great chunks of dirt, tossing them to the side as if they were pillows to shatter into smaller chunks.