“Uncle Boris told me everything. About the Twilight Creature that’s hunting me. And how you won’t be able to stop him.”

“Why?” I asked—of course, the question wasn’t meant for the boy. “Why?”

But Kesha answered anyway.

“He said that was his last chance to motivate me. That I have to pluck up my courage and make a prophecy. Then the beast will leave me alone.”

“And so?”

“I can’t do it, it doesn’t work,” said the boy, lowering his eyes guiltily. “I tried really hard, honest I did! I’m sorry . . .”

He was even apologizing to us . . .

“So what then?” I asked.

“Uncle Boris said that if I couldn’t manage it, there was no point in worrying. I ought to go to bed and get some sleep, maybe the creature won’t come after all. And then everything will be all right, and in the morning I’ll definitely manage it.”

“But you didn’t go to bed,” I said.

“I’m afraid,” the boy replied simply.

“Did you really try hard?” I asked.

“Yes—do you think I’m a fool? But Uncle Boris said that if there was no hope I shouldn’t waste my time trying anymore.”

He looked up at me and said: “You go now, it’s all right. I’ll play for a while and go to bed.”

“If there’s no hope . . .” I said. “If there’s no hope . . .” I slapped at my pockets. Took out my phone. “Hang on a moment, Kesha . . .”

Generally speaking, phoning your ten-year-old daughter at midnight is not the most pedagogically correct decision. But before I could even call, the phone jangled in my hands and I raised it to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Daddy, were you going to call me?” Nadya’s voice was not even slightly sleepy and it sounded very, very eager.

“Yes.”

“Are you doing battle? With that creature?”

“No, Nadya, we’re not going to fight a battle with it. We wouldn’t be able to beat it.”

“What if—”

“And you’re not going to fight a battle with it either!”

“But you do want me to come, don’t you?”

“Yes, only not to fight a battle at all, but to . . .” I began.

There was a breath of cold air. A dark, glowing oval with a belt of white sparks round it appeared in midair. Nadya stepped out of it, barefoot and wearing nothing but her pink pyjamas.

“. . . give Kesha some hope,” I finished, gazing at my daughter.

“Daddy, I managed it just like Gesar!” Nadya exclaimed joyfully. “Oh, hi!”

No, Nadya wasn’t embarrassed. But Kesha blushed and lowered his eyes.

“Nadya, I’m afraid we’ve got almost no time left,” I said. “Perhaps only a few hours. Kesha has to make his first prophecy. He knows how to do it. But it’s not working for him. I think you can help him somehow.”