‘I don’t know how.’

I stare at him with hollow, dry eyes, and something deep inside me breaks. The part of me that carried just a little hope for all these years; that I would find him, and that he would welcome me.

That I would have a father.

My body is trembling – with rage or fear, I cannot tell.

‘Fine. Then I’ll do it myself.’

I stalk past him, down the stairs and out of the melting palace. The shadows pursue me as I go; surrounding me, looming dark over my head. But they cannot stop me now.

They cannot get close enough to try.

The clearing where I left Yanny alone is a now a calamitous battle scene. Rory is there, sending arrows of pure light into the shadows that smother the trees, and a dozen more centaurs cluster around her, doing the same. The shadows have completely surrounded the clearing.

I venture closer, looking for Yanny and Zara, but there’s too much going on. Sprites up in the trees, battling with spells and flashing eyes; fairies on light feet, fighting great shadow monsters with enchanted swords and knives; Mr Flint is standing close by a group of young fae, roaring as he flourishes a long, grey staff, crashing into a pack of shadow wolves, which snap at their heels. As I watch, one of the creatures gathers itself and launches at him; he parries with a swish of his staff, and the wolf is torn into ragged patches of shadow that drift upward to rejoin the dark mass gathered over the trees.

It’s impossible, I realize. All they’re doing is driving the shadows back into the woods, where they’ll infect the trees. And I told my father I would stop them, but I still haven’t worked that bit out. I wanted to reach him. I wanted him to see me and be fixed.

‘Stupid,’ I mutter to myself, treading out into the clearing, catching sight of Peg in the distance, clinging to a tree and sending bolts of fire down through the dark clouds of shadow. It’s dusk already, somehow a whole winter’s day has passed, and the dangers of night can’t be far off. ‘Stupid. Just made it worse. Now what, oh Lost Prince?’

‘Lost Prince?’ says a small voice, deep inside my head. ‘Is that what you’ll call yourself, even now that you are found?’

I look around. Nobody has noticed me yet, this whole part of the clearing is completely empty, apart from the shadows that crouch just outside of my reach. Something furry lands on my shoulder, making me jump.

‘Teacake?’ I twist my head.

I found you, she purrs.

She speaks. She speaks, and I understand her. My jaw slackens as I gaze into her bright green eyes.

And you found your father. Teacake rubs against my cheek. So you are not lost. Your body knows it before your mind does.