Calenne’s face dissolved into sharp, haggard features. “No! What are you doing!”

She lunged for him, fingers hooked like talons. Viktor caught her wrists. His own anger rose in reply, bringing with it pieces of himself he’d thought lost to the Dark. Duty. Purpose. The cornerstones of the life he’d made. He bound them as a cage about his glutted shadow, and flung it howling into the depths of his soul.

He drew Malatriant close. How weak she seemed now.

“I may have been born to the Dark, but I choose to walk in the light.”

Malatriant shrieked.

The Dark broke apart. Viktor found himself on his feet in Eskavord’s marketplace. Elda fell away, her black eyes glassy and cold. Her body shattered as it hit stone, scattering across the cobbles as thick, black ash.

Thralls stood motionless all around. Not frozen, simply . . . inert. Like kraikons awaiting commands. But beyond the sunlit whitewashed walls, darkness reigned. He’d not destroyed Malatriant, only her vessel. She’d regather herself. And now he’d rejected her, there was nothing to hold back her last act of malice. Or almost nothing. There was a third path, though its price was almost too high to contemplate.

Ignoring complaints from stiff limbs, Viktor vaulted from the soiled fountain. He fell to his knees beside Josiri. His heart was a lump of stone, and grew heavier as he took in the pooling blood.

“I have you, brother.”

Furtive eyes stared out from a pale face. Blood trickled between the cobbles. “And . . . Calenne?”

“She’s here.” Viktor took his hand. “I’ll find her, I swear. See that you’re here to greet her.”

Josiri’s eyes slid closed. The weight about Viktor’s heart grew heavier still. Josiri’s friendship had saved him – had maybe saved them all. For him to die . . .

“Ashana Brigantim!”

Lost in despair, Viktor noted too late the galloping hooves for what they were. Then Melanna was upon him, leaning low in the saddle as her sword hacked down.

At Davenwood, Viktor had been paralysed by his shadow’s terror. Now, with his shadow consigned far from the light, he knew no such constraint. One hand sought Melanna’s wrist and the other her belt. With a grunt of effort, he swung her from the saddle and pinned her to the ground. The horse galloped away.

“I am not what you think,” he growled, his face an inch from hers.

She thrashed beneath him. “You are of the Dark!”

“Are you sure?”

Uncertainty crept across her features. “No. It’s . . . Why is it gone?”

Viktor rolled clear. “If Josiri dies, there is no fortress, no army, no godly blessing that will save you. Am I understood?”

Melanna clambered warily to her feet. Her face fell. “I didn’t mean for this.”

[[Josiri?]] Anastacia pushed through the motionless thralls and collapsed at Josiri’s side. Cradling his head in her hands, she glared up at Melanna. [[What happened?]]