In that moment, when doubts crowded her, a mounted figure rode out from the darkness, arriving at a canter. The huge, armoured man drew hard on the reins of his warhorse, and sparks danced out from the beast’s hoofs. He halted directly before Emral Lanear and Rise Herat.

She struggled to breathe for a moment. The emanation was fast dwindling behind the rider.

At her side, the historian bowed. ‘Consort,’ he said, ‘welcome back.’

Lord Draconus dismounted. Cold drifted from his shoulders, and there was frost glistening on his riding boots, and his armour. He drew off his gauntlets. ‘High Priestess,’ he said, ‘I need you.’

‘Consort?’

He gestured to the building behind her. ‘She knows I have returned. I promised her a gift, and for that, you must attend me.’

‘In what manner?’ she asked.

‘As the First Daughter of Night.’

‘I hold no such title.’

He approached. ‘You do now,’ he said, moving past her and entering the Citadel. Emral followed, trailed by Rise Herat.

Lord Draconus strode into the Grand Hall, and halted in the centre of the vast chamber. ‘Clear the hall!’ he commanded.

The quiet, brooding man Emral had known before now stood as if transformed. The power around him was palpable. His heavy gaze found her. ‘High Priestess, seek the emptiness within you. Surrender the will of your eyes to Mother Dark, so that she may witness my gift.’

‘Consort, I know not how to do that.’

‘Only because you have never tried. Look well upon me now, and within your soul, kick open the door of faith.’

All at once, Emral felt a presence flow into her body, shifting as if finding itself in ill-fitting flesh, and as she looked upon Lord Draconus there was a sudden surge of discordant emotions. She felt Mother Dark’s pleasure at seeing her lover again, and her relief, and in the midst of that, there was profound trepidation. Emral struggled to give herself over to her goddess, so that Mother Dark might speak through her, but something defied her efforts. She felt Mother Dark’s desire to address Draconus, blunt and heavy as a fist, pounding upon some inner door – a door that remained locked – and as her goddess pushed against it from one side, so too Emral pulled against it from the other. Their efforts failed, leaving to Mother Dark only the vision of her Consort.

He had thrown off his cloak now, and there was something in his hands, cupped like a precious flower, but all that Emral – and Mother Dark – could see was what looked like a fragment of forest floor, a flattened layer of humus. Draconus looked into Emral Lanear’s eyes, and then spoke. ‘Beloved, in this gift, I offer you the consecration of this Citadel, and so make of it a temple in truth. You have embraced the Night, yet hold but a modest fragment of its power.’ He paused, and then said, ‘There is a war of forces here, waged in the stone walls, the stone floor. It seems my return was timely indeed. By this gift, all challenge is banished from this place. I give to you, and to all the Children of Night, this Terondai.’