The two of them stopped above the shuddering, hissing mass of machinery. The fires from below underlit the complex mass of controls set into the brass console at the platform’s heart. The moonlight from above turned its upper surfaces pallid green. Below them, Romilla could hear the masses of spiders closing in.

‘It’s up to you now, El,’ she said.

‘What about you?’ asked Eleanora, looking at her blearily.

‘I’ll pray, and I’ll protect you for as long as I can,’ said Romilla. ‘And I am sorry, my girl, that I couldn’t–’

Her breath caught in her throat, and she couldn’t finish the words.

‘It’s all right,’ said Eleanora. ‘They took away my father, but they gave me a mother. Thank you.’

Tears squeezed from Romilla’s eyes and her heart thumped painfully as Eleanora turned and staggered to the controls. She fell heavily against them, leaning all her weight on the console, and frowned down with fierce concentration.

Romilla coughed against the tightness in her throat and limped to stand beside Eleanora. Her amulet was still glowing fiercely, and in its light the young engineer didn’t look quite so ill.

‘Can you do it?’ asked Romilla.

Eleanora’s eyes darted across the switches and dials, the flashing green and crimson bulbs that illuminated small glass domes. Her focus sharpened as the challenge consumed her mind, though her eyes were no less bloodshot or red-ringed for it.

‘I… no…’ she said miserably. ‘I can’t. See, here and here,’ she pointed, but Romilla barely heard her. Her ears were ringing, so sharp was her sense of anger and disappointment. They had given all this, fought all this way, and there was nothing Eleanora could do. For the barest instant, the light of Romilla’s amulet flickered like a candle flame in a high wind.

No, she thought. She would not give in to despair again. Not while Eleanora lived. She tried to focus on what the engineer was telling her.

‘…and without that differential I can close off the locking valves and direct the force, but there simply isn’t enough pressure in the system.’

‘How could you get enough pressure?’ asked Romilla. The platform was swaying now, and awful clanging sounds rang from below. She didn’t have to look to know what was causing them as it crept closer and closer.

‘There isn’t enough left in the system,’ said Eleanora, banging the console in frustration. ‘Unless Sigmar wants to send us the most perfectly timed eruption in the history of the Mortal Realms, we just can’t achieve the differential to release the build-up from this chamber and send it through the system. Unless…’ Eleanora gasped and slapped her palm against the metal. ‘It’s the… I’m having trouble… so stupid…’

Something huge and dark moved below them, blocking out the rising firelight and causing the gantry to creak and shift.

‘What, girl, what?’ urged Romilla.