The armoursilk went dead, leaving Miro as defenceless as a newborn babe. The zenblade was now just a sharp sword. Against the nightshade it would be like chopping wood with a bread knife.

The nightshade moved forward, reaching the bank where Miro stood paralysed and pushing itself up to its full height, towering over Miro even as its base stood in the water below him. An arm came at him, faster than he would have thought possible, and Miro ducked and rolled, feeling the horrible fingers pluck at his armoursilk and tear at his long hair.

The movement kicked Miro into action. Suddenly he remembered the basic song of his zenblade, the core activations of his armoursilk. Ella's complex sequences were beyond him, but the next time the nightshade came at him he swung at one of the fingers, taking it off half-way.

The nightshade reared up and for the first time Miro saw the appendages at its base leave the ground, water spilling and the ground heaving as it smashed back to the ground with the force of an earthquake.

Miro decided to buy himself some time and jumped onto a half-fallen trunk, leaping to a second log and then a third, heading deeper into the thick forest. He finally paused in the crook of a huge tree and turned back.

The great arm came at him and Miro dropped, the nightshade's hand smashing into where he had been just a moment before. He fell heavily to the ground, and rolled onto his back.

The nightshade loomed over him; the creature could move with a speed that belied its size. Miro hurriedly picked himself up and for the first time faced up to the massive living tree. He added to the song of his zenblade, leaving only lightness and agility in the armoursilk, and the shining sword shifted hue from red to violet. Miro sang as he leapt forward, climbing the creepers surrounding the nightshade with a bladesinger's agility. The zenblade turned blue.

Miro held onto a vine with one hand. He sensed the nightshade's clawing hands coming at him and knew he had just this one stroke. He held his zenblade with the other hand and thrust at the torso with all the strength of his honed muscles.

The zenblade bit into the bark, piercing no more than a few inches into the trunk. The blow was inconsequential, and Miro realised he was a dead man.

The two gnarled hands wrapped around him, yanking Miro away from the nightshade's body and holding him high in the air while the glaring eyes regarded him. Miro felt the hands begin to squeeze and pull. The nightshade was tearing him in two.