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The reaper shrieked in pain and Thea twisted her sword, wringing out every drop of agony that she could.

‘Block!’ Wilder shouted.

Thea’s shield arm came up again instinctively, just in time to deflect a deadly blow of those razor-sharp claws.

Her strength wavered beneath the crushing force of the reaper’s power and she stumbled, her body suddenly feeling every slice, every bruise. Thea remained crouched behind her shield, wheezing as she tried to gather herself.

The monster seemed to sense her weakening resolve and it struck out more savagely than ever, its ribbons of onyx magic coming for her in a relentless wave of attacks. She couldn’t block them all, she took one on her shield, and slashed another away with her sword, but the third… The third lash struck her across the top of her chest and she screamed and darkness carved into her, her vision going black and then —

The scorched courtyard smelt of blood and heather.

Bodies lay lifeless on the cobbles; seeping crimson into the ground while the wheels on an upturned cart still spun, mead flowing from broken barrels.

Fresh claw marks ravaged the high walls, carving through the tiny flowers which sprouted even in deep winter, the echoes of ear-piercing shrieks still vibrated through the stone there. Tangled scents of iron and earth drifted up into the night’s air, dancing with the shadows, remnants from the wraiths that retreated into the roiling storm above.

Darkness had descended upon Thezmarr, and at its heart was a copper-haired little girl, no older than six, clutching a necklace of dried flowers and a small scythe of Naarvian steel to her pounding chest.

The last of the onyx power left the blade in curling tendrils, wisps of magic swallowed by rolling thunder that seemed to call her name.

Anya.

With a quiet cry, Anya dropped the scythe, the steel singing as it hit the stone, as it fell amidst the rivers of blood that trickled towards her slippered feet.

Time hung suspended for a moment, and there was nothing. No other noise, no other movement. Everything was still and silent.

‘You condemn her to death?’ said a voice.

Death. Anya had never fully understood this word. Her mother had tried to explain it to her once…What was once here is no longer. It has moved on to another world, guarded by the great god, Enovius. But it had made no sense then and it made no sense now.

‘She is a daughter of darkness, a monster. She needs to be dealt with before she unleashes more madness upon us all,’ another voice replied. ‘She has brought the truth of the prophecy to our very doorstep…’

‘Guild Master, you can’t mean —’

‘In the shadow of a fallen kingdom, in the eye of the storm

A daughter of darkness will wield a blade in one hand

And rule death with the other

When the skies are blackened, in the end of days

The Veil will fall.

The tide will turn when her blade is drawn.

A dawn of fire and blood.’

Then Anya was somewhere else. A stony shore beneath her feet.

‘I’m sorry, lass,’ a man murmured. ‘There was no convincing him… If Starling was at Thezmarr, it might have been different. He can always get through to the Guild Master. But… I don’t know where he is, lass. Nowhere close enough tohelp you now.’ He sighed heavily. ‘I don’t know how you did what you did, but… though you don’t look it, you’re dangerous.’

Anya was tired and hungry and scared. Dazed, she let him take her in his arms. He carried her for some time beneath the waning moonlight and she slept against his shoulder, for in sleep, he could have been her father, sturdy and strong.

Only when they came to a stop much later did the little girl wake fully, the fear setting in.

‘I want to go home,’ she cried. ‘I want Mama and Papa.’

The warrior wore a pained expression as he set her down in front of the mouth of a dark cave. ‘It’ll all be over soon,’ he told her, smoothing her hair from her eyes. ‘Your parents, they’re in there, waiting.’ He pointed inside the cave.