‘He comes to me now. Will you remain to witness our reunion?’

‘Mother Dark, I fear there is nothing left here to protect.’

Her gesture of dismissal was perfunctory. Grizzin Farl bowed, and then strode from the Chamber of Night.

Outside the chamber he paused in the corridor. I forgot to warn her. With the birth of one gate, there will be others.

* * *

Their horses labouring in the acidic air, Spinnock Durav and his commander rode down to the shores of the Sea of Vitr. They had heard a thunderous reverberation, as of the air itself splitting open, and hastily saddling their mounts they had left the camp among the boulders well above the shoreline, and ridden out to discover the source of that terrible sound.

For three days, Spinnock and the others in the troop had explored the strand, moving among scores of dead and dying monstrosities, no two alike. If born of the Vitr, each had been nurtured on foul milk, and the sea in which they found their home had set upon them with frenzied hunger. The creatures crawled free of the silver waters torn apart, bleeding, their flanks hanging loose, bones exposed and many ruptured by unbearable pressures. Even then, they took a long time to die.

The horror of these births assailed the Wardens. There was no sense to be made of this failed invasion, and for all the violence borne in the arrival of the demons, nothing but pity could attend their death throes. As Calat Hustain had observed only the day before, any entity, beast or otherwise, could not but lash out in the midst of such agony.

They knew well to keep their distance, and the veracity of Finarra Stone’s report was evinced time and again, when creatures little more than exploded carcasses somehow found the strength to thrash and fight on, seeking to drag themselves out from the Vitr.

This horror was a weight upon the Wardens, and Spinnock Durav felt a dulling of the pleasures he took in life. Each morning he awoke enervated, feeling helpless, and dreading the next journey down to the shoreline.

As the thunderclap seemed to shiver on through the caustic air, they rode clear of the final boulders above the strand, and could see at last the source of that event.

A wall of fire hovered in the air above the Sea of Vitr, as if a new sun had been born. Yet it was not so bright as to blind them. The flames writhing about its edge seemed to erupt, flying outward in strands and threads, like molten gold escaping the edge of a spinning wheel. These fires vanished like sparks, and none curved in flight or arced downward to the surface of the silver sea.

The emanation was stationary, hovering in the sky. It was difficult to determine its size, but the reflection it cast upon the sea was immense.