The journey back seemed longer. Perhaps it was because of the kerfuffle going on inside my head. Despite my sniffy attitude towards my true name, I kept seeing the expression in my parents’ eyes as they looked at me. It was haunting – and not in a particularly good way. My father didn’t looked like an evil murderer. He looked like a man grieving.

I was so focused on the recurring images that I didn’t notice the root jutting out from the ground until it was too late. The tip of my toes caught it and I went flying to the ground with a heavy thump, receiving a mouthful of dirt in the process. It was the only reason I didn’t scream aloud in pain. Who knew that a cracked rib could hurt so much?

I choked. ‘Nice move, Integrity,’ I scolded myself. Between tripping up over a pile of clothes in my own flat and a tree here, I was starting to think I was developing some serious coordination problems.  I’d need to get Taylor to put me through my paces when I got back to Aberdeen. I didn’t want my new colleagues at mountain rescue thinking I was as unbalanced and tottery as Bambi.

I pushed myself up gingerly, dusting the debris off my scarf with a hiss of irritation. Then there was a far louder hiss and something flew past my head in a rush of heat, almost blistering my skin.

There was a loud crash, followed by a strange sizzle. I glanced back into the clearing and gaped when I saw one of the trees behind me ablaze. There was another hiss. This time I paid more attention. I ducked down, covering my head in my arms as a genuine, honest-to-goodness fireball blazed past, slamming into another tree and immediately engulfing it in flames.

Pyrokinetics, I thought. That’s Byron’s second gift. I cursed myself for a fool for beginning to trust him and rolled to my right, away from the path and the danger. I move just in time. A third fireball appeared, flying much lower this time. If I’d stayed where I was, I would have been toast.

‘Man’s house is on fire,’ I muttered to myself, still rolling, although now I was away from the path it was harder to avoid the trees and, with every move, my ribs yelled up at me to stop. ‘He calls up the fire brigade and asks for help. “How do we get there?” asks the fireman. The man frowned. “Don’t you still have those big red trucks?”’