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‘Might not have fangs and claws, but those things are just as deadly as any monster,’ Talemir said. ‘Will-o’-the-wisps, folk beyond the Veil call them. They’re known for leading travellers astray with false promises of sanctuary.’

‘What do the travellers get instead?’

‘Nothing good.’

Thea watched with a shudder as they disappeared into the tall fronds of grass. ‘I’ll bet.’

She and Talemir continued through the marshland, arms linked beneath his cloak of shadow. When she wasn’t focused on the steady rhythm of their boots hitting the boardwalk, Thea could hear the murmurs of long-lost souls echoing through the fog – perhaps those poor folk who’d followed the will-o’-the-wisps. Their voices created a haunting symphony as the pair crossed the swamp, one that chilled the very marrow in Thea’s bones.

Talemir flinched, and she knew he was hearing them too. ‘The closer we get, the more they sound like people we love,’ he told her quietly. ‘Don’t let them fool you.’

Sure enough, the voices started to sound familiar. Wren. Cal. Kipp… All of them calling out to her, beckoning her towards the dark.

‘Thea…’ came the voice she longed for the most. Deep and melodic, the call of home.

Wilder.

‘Thea,’ he called again.

She tightened her grip on her sword and forced one foot in front of the other, ignoring the chorus of suffering that echoed across the marsh, the water rippling in its wake. It was a nexus of pain and darkness, a glimpse of what the world would be like under the rule of King Artos and his reapers. Here, the boundaries of reality were blurred, and the very air was tainted with the sorrow of those imprisoned in the tower beyond.

It only made her more determined. She would do everything in her power to stop this from becoming the fate of the midrealms, but she refused to do it without Wilder.

For him, the world would wait. And when he was safe at her side, they could watch the whole fucking thing go up in flames to be reborn anew.

What was it the prophecy said?

A dawn of fire and blood.

At last, Thea and Talemir reached the spiked iron gates of the tower. The space beyond was swarming with howlers, wraiths and arachnes.

They crouched in the brush on the edge of the marshland, watching, waiting. Thea could feel the wrongness of the place crawling under her skin, and upon closer inspection, she could see the shimmering telltale sign of wards blanketing the tower.

‘You were right not to fly straight in,’ she said.

‘Don’t tell my wife,’ he replied. ‘That was her warning.’

Thea raised a brow. ‘Maybe you should have sent her instead.’

Talemir snorted. ‘Don’t tell her that either. She’d wholeheartedly agree.’ He turned his gaze to the fortifications of the tower. Not only was it swarming with monsters, it was surrounded by a moat, its entrances guarded by iron-clad sentries bigger than Malik.

‘Any ideas?’ Talemir asked.

‘One,’ Thea replied, and she launched into outlining her plan.

When she was done, Talemir stared at her for a moment before finally saying, ‘He taught you well.’

‘He did.’

‘He got that from me, so really, I’m the one we should be crediting,’ he added.

‘Or blaming, when it all goes to shit,’ Thea retorted.

‘Or that…’

Undetected beneath the shadows, both Warswords studied the tower, and the wraiths circling its peak. They watched the guards change shifts, once, then twice, tracking the rise and fall of the weakened sun beyond the dark clouds, and the rotation of the rest of the monstrous crew.

‘Not many people trying to break in, I’ll wager,’ Talemir said quietly, as the guard changed for the third time.