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Pride filled my heart, but I opened my mouth to cry out, to tell the exmoor to go back.

It was too late. With claws bared and teeth gnashing, Nightclaw flew straight towards the creature of shadows.

My breath caught in my throat. It was futile. It had to be. A small owl and a single exmoor against such a massive creature of darkness.

There was no way we could win this battle.

“Morgan.” Draven’s voice sounded strained in my ear. His hand gripped my wrist. “Morgan, we have to go.”

“No.” I shook my head frantically. “Go? We can’t go now. You don’t understand...”

“No,” he said, his jaw tightening. “It’s you who doesn’t understand.”

As he began to pull me down the bridge, I looked behind us.

The way we had come was falling away. Entire swathes of stones collapsed noiselessly into the chasm below. The sounds of the ancient bridge disintegrating were joined by the sounds of Nightclaw’s roars and Tuva’s sharp cries and the creature of darkness’s own guttural exclamations of fury and hate.

As the two creatures of light battled the creature of darkness, Draven continued to pull me down the bridge.

But I had no plans to leave. This was Nightclaw. My Nightclaw. He should not have been there. I would not leave him now that he had come.

How had he even found us?

I forced Draven to a halt as I paused to watch the battlecat, wings spread wide as it glided through the air then descended upon the shadowy demon, unleashing claws and teeth, landing blows anywhere it could on that terrible sinuous form.

Meanwhile, Tuva—looking miniscule as she flew high above—swooped close to the creature, darting and weaving, distracting the demon and sending it into a swatting fury as Nightclaw sought to wound it.

Too late it dawned on me what the bird and the cat were doing.

A sickening crack filled the chamber as the shadow demon struck Nightclaw with a devastating blow. The massive feline, caught off guard, let out a pained roar as it was thrown back by the force of the impact.

A deep gash marred Nightclaw’s flank. The exmoor’s fur rapidly matted with blood as he struggled to maintain his flight.

Despite the wound, I saw Nightclaw’s eyes burn with that familiar unyielding golden fire.

He soared back towards the creature of shadows. I let out a cry of protest, hands trembling and clammy, blood draining from my face.

“Here, Morgan!” Draven was shouting. “Inside! We need to get inside.”

The doors. Somehow we had reached the massive iron doors that led the way off the bridge.

Draven had managed to get one of them open. Now the towering door parted in a space wide enough for us to squeeze through.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I screamed.

As he tried to pull me through, I thrust my hands out, wedging myself in the space.

Vesper. It was Vesper all over again. The hands pulling me away from Lancelet. The hands pulling me from Nightclaw.

“Stop!” My voice was shrill and desperate.

I looked back towards the battle.

Nightclaw had simply been buying us time.

Now, with each beat of his wings, blood fell from the wound on his flank. But the battlecat was unrelenting, flying straight back towards the creature of shadows.

With a roar, the demon struck out at the exmoor as it flew, this time with a force so great, it sent the cat tumbling backwards through the air.