Her heart was stuttering, skipping beats. She felt ill to her core. Storm hadn’t felt this unwell since catching the wasting fever, when she was still a child. She had nearly died. Dain had nursed her to health. So long ago. Perhaps she would see Ma soon, in the land of the spirits. Part of her wanted to stop right here, leaning against a stranger’s house. To lie down and not get up again.

Scoundrel grabbed her trouser leg, tugged, chattering angrily. His claws scratched and the pain roused her. Storm sighed, took a deep breath to combat the pain and nausea she knew were waiting, and pushed away from the wall. She began to walk, following the Earth-witch’s monkey into the night.

The night darkened further, and Storm looked up to see the moon had fallen at last into the sea. Dawn was still far off but the night would end eventually, and she needed to be somewhere safe when it did. Only there was no place left on Bellum Island that was safe for her.

It was only when they were stumbling slowly down the harbour road itself that Storm began to notice where they were heading. Scoundrel was taking her to the old warehouse cave where she had met the other witches. The monkey tugged, scolded, even beat at her with his tiny fists when she paused for too long. Once he threatened her with his sharp teeth, and she simply laughed wearily before staggering on.

They were lucky. No guards stumbled across them in the dark, and those people who did see them making their wavering, slow journey across the town must have assumed that she was just one of hundreds of drunken sailors travelling back to their night-time berths.

When Storm at last lifted deadened legs over the tumble of rubble at the mouth of the cave, she was too tired to do more than wince at the light that immediately flared.

“Thank the Ancestors!” The Earth-witch approached, carrying a lamp. “Are you hurt?”

“Just weary. Too much magic, I think. I need sleep.”

“No time, I’m afraid. Your journey has only begun. You must leave Bellum tonight. It is too dangerous for you to stay longer.”

“Journey where?” Storm blinked, shook her head to try to clear it. “There’s nowhere to go. The Fire-witch—”

“I know about the attack.”

“How did you…” Storm sighed. She was obviously too tired even to think straight. “Did she survive? Do you know that?”

“I don’t. The Tortoise told me of the attack and that you were battling for your life. I sent Scoundrel at once. The spirit said you would win.”

“Huh.” She shook her head, sudden tears burning her eyes. “It doesn’t feel like it. A guard died! Perhaps others. It’s my fault!”

“You haven’t time for self-pity.”

She glared at him.