She blinked, stunned, before forcing herself to move. A black pump-action shotgun sat in a rack above the windshield; she pulled it free, grabbing a handful of shells from a box and stuffing them into her pockets. Checking she still had the resurrection key, she staggered out.

The fortress loomed through the smashed windows. It had tracked her here – and the warriors would soon catch up. She had to run.

A fearful face stared at her from a ticket booth. ‘Stay down!’ Nina shouted, gesturing for the young man to duck. He did so. The nearest exit was a set of glass doors, snowflake patterns etched on them. She hurried through.

Her surroundings changed from gleaming yet anonymous shopping mall to ersatz ski lodge, the walls clad with fibreglass logs. Long counters offered rentals of winter sports gear. Business was slow; there was only one man on duty. He dropped behind the counter when he saw her gun.

Through more doors – and freezing air hit her.

A snow-covered hillside stretched into the distance, its upper end shrouded in mist. The indoor ski run, illuminated by an endless grid of overhead lights, was as huge as Cheng had said – even if it was only the world’s second biggest, it was still several hundred yards long. It was wide, too; as well as several broad lanes for skiers and snowboarders, there was even room for a bobsled run at one side. Five chair lifts and some shorter surface lifts serviced the slope.

All were empty, the entire cavernous space deserted. The combination of Xinengyuan’s sparse population, its being a weekday and – Nina suspected from the numbers at the ticket office – high prices meant the complex was currently a gigantic white elephant.

That suited her – the fewer innocent civilians around, the better. But her own survival was paramount. Where to go?

A section of one long wall was glazed, looking into the sparsely occupied mall. No exits, though; anyone wanting to enter the winter wonderland had to pay. She saw a fire door far off in the opposite wall, but it would take her back into the sights of the fortress.

‘Onwards and upwards,’ she muttered. Shivering as cold seeped into her damp clothing, she tramped through the almost virgin snow to the nearest ski lift. If there was another emergency exit at the slope’s top, she might be able to escape the vimana unseen.

She, Eddie and Macy had taken a skiing vacation two years prior; she boarded one of the moving chairs with ease. It quickly carried her up the hill.

Gadreel returned to the mausoleum in response to an urgent call from Zan. Sidona opened her eyes. ‘I . . . I have done it,’ she murmured. ‘I have guided the flow of power, shaped it . . . It is rising inside the tower . . .’