‘You are of my blood,’ Olar Ethil said. ‘And for that reason alone, I will spare you the wrath of the Finnest. But my, how you and Spite have poisoned it! She will see Draconus. How unfortunate, because the thing inside that husk bears little resemblance to your father. Still, what comes of this fated meeting will shatter the world.’

‘Save us! We’ll be good – you’ll see!’

The massive face tilted slightly. ‘Good? Well, let’s say you’ll have plenty of time to ponder such promises. For now, daughter, let’s make for you and your sister a most displeasing tomb.’

Envy shrieked as the floor gave way beneath her, and then from above descended a mass of shattered rubble and splintered wood, as the house began its tortured collapse.

She’s burying us! Mother, you bitch!

* * *

Sandalath was thrown against a wall as the tower rocked around her. Steam swirled hot through pockets of bitter cold, and water streamed down the stone steps. Wreneck was waiting for her – just a little further. He sat huddled, curled up. She could see him in her mind. Moaning under her breath, she righted herself and continued upward.

I remember this tower. I remember a door. I didn’t like it, that door.

We went up to the top, to watch the battle. Such a terrible day. So many lives lost, their souls torn loose, spilling out, riding cries of pain into the air – how it swirled around us!

Orfantal – no, Wreneck – no – I don’t know. I can’t think!

She hesitated, and then stumbled upward, as if a fist was pushing her, driving into her back. She heard the echo of cackling laughter.

I was never strong. Mother told me so. She had to take care of everything. All the mistakes I made. Galdan, our games. The child that came of that – I didn’t know it worked that way. If they’d told me, I wouldn’t have done any of that. But then it was too late, and Mother had to fix things, again, to make it right.

All the lies, the stories. She told me I couldn’t be a mother, not to Orfantal. You can’t be allowed to love a mistake. You can’t be the one to nurture it, watch it grow into something you can’t control. Every child is a hostage. Every child is to be sent away, until the face fades from the mind. This, Mother said, is the only freedom left to me.

She reached the landing, where the water was gushing out from the rents in the massive blackwood door. The stones were glowing as if trapped in a furnace, revealing that the water was black as ink. Dorssan Ryl. It was the lord’s gift to Mother Dark, the way it changed. Draconus turned it into liquid night, into the blackness between the stars.

See how it pours!

Orfantal. I am coming. Nothing to fear, not any more.