He was knocked into the wall behind him, but only momentarily. Rolling his shoulders, he leaned forward and pushed through the coruscating magic that now roiled to fill the corridor.

Spite reached Envy, slipped past, and kept running.

Something tore Envy’s serpents of fire into shreds. Squealing, the girl backed away as the Azathanai advanced.

* * *

Sword in hand, Ivis stepped through the doorway. Beyond the cloakroom alcove, the main hall beckoned him forward. At first he saw no movement in the large chamber, although the flames from the hearth threw writhing shadows everywhere, as if a fever had taken the fire.

A moment later, he saw the boy. Wreneck was kneeling before the hearth, feeding wood into it with a strange, mechanical rhythm. Burning wood was piled high, spilling out over the stone surround.

‘Wreneck!’

The boy did not turn, nor give any other indication that he heard his name being called.

Ivis approached, uncanny chills riding his spine.

In the fire’s frantic flames, he saw something like a face. A woman’s, round and soft, with eyes promising everlasting warmth. Ivis felt his legs moving, bringing him closer to the hearth. He barely heard the sword fall from his hand.

She… she is beautiful…

He was beside the boy now, feeling the fierce heat against his face, seductive as a lingering kiss. He saw her hands, reaching out to beckon him still closer.

‘Ivis. I know you. From Raskan’s blessed memories, I know you. Feel the terrible sorcery surrounding us? Seething through this cursed house? It invites, yes? Sweet as a caress. Look to the boy. He wants to join me, but he has protectors – they resist, though we are kin. I tell them, my womb can hold them all. Them, the child, you. I can keep you safe from the little creatures – oh, Draconus, look what we made here! Surely, lover, we can take some ragged pride, but mind the edges!

‘I can keep you all safe. Come now, Ivis. Did you not dream of fire? For this keep? For the girls, prison bars of flame. Cages of cracked stone, rubble, blackened beams, and upon it all – when at last the fury cools – a blessed shroud of snow. Let them dig their way out – it will take months, if not years.

‘Come now, feed the fire, and for that gift I will repay you in turn. My sweetest kiss, my swallowing lips, my red all.’

Burning logs had toppled out from the hearth, rolling across the thick rugs. One came to rest against the legs of a chair, with small tongues of flame licking upward.

Ivis knelt beside the boy. Together, side by side, they pushed more wood on to the raging mound.

Warm. Ivis smiled. Winter dies here. Here and now.

Winter dies.

Surrounding them, the flames laughed.

* * *