As soon as they were released, the mage children wandered into familiar groups, each in their own part of the playground. Mostly, Liska noticed, they stuck together with others from their circle. The arbomancers seemed to strut around the centre, full of self-importance, while the lesser mages huddled at the edges.

So young, and already obeying the order of the city, Liska thought. Although there were some who didn’t seem to bother who they played with. She watched as an arbomancer conjured several tree shoots from the ground and then weaved his hands through the air, making them twine into a ball. A barkmage came over and spoke a few words. The shoot-ball hardened itself, snapping offand rolling across the earth. A stormsinger hit it with a blast of wind, making it fly into the air and then the three children were running after it, kicking it backwards and forwards and laughing to each other.

Liska was about to go over and join in when a shadow fell across her. She looked up to see the big arbomancer boy blocking her path, along with a cluster of others. They looked like his followers, copying his every move. The way their faces were set into mean, hard scowls. Why did bullies always seem to have a flock of smaller bullies around them?

‘Who do you think you are, you flea-bitten shapeshifter? Coming down into our city and spreading filthy lies about people better than you?’ The boy’s voice was full of hate. His eyes were dark and sour, almost hidden by a sweep of black hair. Liska noticed his hands were at his sides, clenching into fists.

‘It’s not a lie,’ she said. ‘I saw it. And you should be careful how you speak to shapewalkers. Just because we don’t live in your city, doesn’t mean we have no magic.’

Her fingers moved to the collar of her cloak as if she was about to flip on her hood, and she was rewarded by all of the mages taking a quick step backwards.

‘You don’t scare us,’ said the arbomancer boy. ‘You’re nothing more than a monster from a fairy tale. We’ll teach you to stay in your mountains, just you see.’

Before Liska could do anything, the boy brought his hands up, twisting them in a strange pattern. Liska thought she saw a hint of green light sparkling in the air, and then there was a crunching sound as two thick vines burst up from the ground.

Stepping backwards, Liska tried to pull on her hood, tried to take her griffyx shape, but the vines were too quick. They snapped themselves around her shoulders, pinning her arms to her body. Round and round they whipped until she couldn’t move her upper half. She was even having trouble breathing, as the vines squeezed her so tightly.