When Nomi blinked and looked again, a huge shadow bore down. It blocked the sun and enveloped her, a darkness rising, crushing light from her senses and flooding her with gloom. It pressed against her and Nomi vomited, great gouts that she could not see in such blankness. She was torn away from the world and taken elsewhere—somewhere deeper, where less existed, a place farther away in perception and looser in her mind, like an idea of Noreela instead of Noreela itself. There was nothing to hold on to there, and she tumbled, feeling a warm splash across her face and throat as she vomited again. The shape was in her now as well as around her, filling her spaces and flooding her organs, bones, flesh.

She struck the ground and saw the shadow shrink to a tiny speck before her.

Nomi tried to cry out but spat chunks of half-digested food instead. It was thick and hard in her mouth, and the sensation made her retch again.

“Nomi!” It was a shout that came as a whisper.

She looked at the hovering thing, close to her and no larger than a fingernail. It was blank as a hole in the world. It shifted left and right, passing over a long-stemmed flower, skirting around a twist of sun-dried wood. Was it teasing her? Playing with her? Or was there no sense to it at all?

“Nomi!” It was Beko, kneeling beside her and supporting her shoulders with his hands.

“Stay away from it!” she heard Rhiana say, and Noon appeared in her field of vision, wielding his sword as though it could help.

“Don't . . .” Nomi said, “. . . don't let it . . . please . . .” She spat again, trying to void her mouth of gritty vomit. Beko helped her sit up and she clasped his hands, relishing their reality.

“Stay back, Noon,” Beko said.

The shape fluttered here and there, like a butterfly looking for somewhere to land. Nomi suddenly perceived a repulsive sentience about it, and a sick humor in every skip and swerve.

“It knows me,” she whispered.

The wisp floated away, expanding between blinks into something the size of a horse, featureless, dark and blank. As it retreated, it crushed flowers and rolled across heathers. The path it left behind was marked by plants fading from purple and green to brown and pale.

“It's just a thing,” Beko said, and Nomi almost laughed.

“A thing?”

The wisp flicked back to a minuscule taint on the air once more, seemingly without passing any size in between.

“It's laughing at me,” she said. Beko tried to let go of her shoulders but she clasped his hands, holding him there. He was keeping her in the world.

“What the piss was that?” Noon said. The Serian sounded scared, and that did nothing to settle Nomi's fears.

“Marsh wisp,” Rhiana said. “The things that don't exist.”