The question came not from one of the thralls blocking the door, but a young man seated on a bench beneath the gable. Twenty years old, or thereabouts. Younger even than Viktor had been when he’d first come to Eskavord during Katya Trelan’s rebellion. Viktor read no hostility in voice or manner, just resignation and a hollow timbre too old for his years. Perhaps there was even a shadow of regret.

“Look around you.” He sat down on the wall opposite. Fifteen years ago he’d left Eskavord on its knees. Today would be worse. “No one won today. We are all losers.”

“You could have been a king.”

“I would have been a monster. The choice you offer is no choice at all.”

“It is all you have.”

“Let you wreak havoc, or inherit your madness?” Had Malatriant always been cruel? Viktor wondered, or had the Dark made her so? “There’s a third choice.”

Amber light flickered on the northern skyline. Hungry tongues of flame leapt skyward. Others arose in the east, and then to the south. A distant crackle, like leaves tramped underfoot, billowed with the first skeins of smoke.

The lad stared past Viktor’s shoulder, dark eyes aghast. “What have you done?”

“I’m finishing what Belenzo started,” he replied. “By now, Eskavord is surrounded. You may be in every root and leaf, every scrap of flesh and every spark of soul. One by one, I will take these from you. I will render them dust. No spark of life will remain. No meadow will be left unsalted. Eskavord will pass into history, and you with it. You will have no heir. No testament. Only the fire and a legacy of ash.”

To the west, fresh flames leapt across Branghall’s gatehouse.

“It will mean the deaths of thousands.”

“They’re not alive now. Not in any way that counts.”

“Few will believe that.”

“So be it. I’ve no need to be remembered as a hero, or even at all. All that matters is what I do, here and now. And in this moment, trapped between light and dark, between fire and shadow, I reject you.”

To his surprise, Malatriant laughed. “So this is why you risked the fires. To taunt my failure?”

“I came for Calenne.” He shrugged. “The rest is . . . what it is.”

The lad waved a hand. The thralls parted and bled away, leaving the door unguarded. “You’ll find her within. If that’s what you truly want. But I spoke true before. She belongs to your past.”

“You’ll not stop me?” Viktor asked, surprised at the sudden accession.

“What would it change?”

“Nothing.”

“Then I’m right to choose nothing in return,” the lad replied bitterly. “Believe me in this: opening that door will bring you only misery.”

“I’ll take that chance.”