Ellie fell to her knees in the dust; would have toppled face-first into it if someone hadn’t grabbed her arm. Someone shouted in her ear. And then the screaming began, blotting out all other sound. It was distant, but composed of countless voices, none of them human, and it seemed to come from everywhere at once. It was the creatures: screaming not in agony, as when burned or caught in light, but rage – a terrible cheated fury. And with it, no doubt, a thirst for vengeance.

“Ellie!”

She heard the shout, just, over the din, and turned towards it as she was pulled to her feet. There was a face: a clown-mask, white with dust, hair stiff with it, eyes red. The sight seemed so alien she almost recoiled from it, but the mouth was shouting her name and she heard a hint of a Manchester accent in the dim, almost inaudible voice. Charlotte. Charlotte pulled her arm, and Ellie let herself be dragged across the cavern floor. The Ithaca was gone, but that didn’t matter now. She shut her eyes and let Charlotte drag her along, while the screaming of those countless voices rang and echoed in the pits beneath the world.

On the ledge above the cavern, Madeleine Lowe’s awareness had shifted to another level, in which she saw the things that slept beneath the hill stirring, rising towards wakefulness. Until, half-risen, they began to sink again, down into the darkness. Back into the Yawning, where they’d stir no more.

She’d expected that to be the end for her – her job done, her purpose served – but like a receding tide, her pain and nausea faded, strength flowing back into her. A last rallying. A touch of grace: well done, thou good and faithful servant. Or perhaps a gift: the strength and clarity to save the others.

Like so many other good and faithful servants, Madeleine suspected it would be her lot to guide others to safety but not find it herself. But that was fine. She could – haha – live with that. She was tired; she’d done her bit, and was content. Only a little further, now, to go.

She put on her backpack. The dreadful weight of it settled on her ruined back, but there was no pain, only clarity. Bones and rocks clattered below her; Ellie and Charlotte, both covered in dust, came scrambling up the slope.

“Come on,” said Madeleine. Howls echoed through the tunnels: the things knew anguish, and rage. “Not much time to get out.”

Ellie stared back at her with red, harrowed eyes. What had she seen? What did she know? Madeleine would have liked to talk with her, give her what reassurance she could, but there wasn’t time. “Come on,” she said again, and led them back through the tunnels.