I was leading one of the lost horses back to the stables when a darker patch of shadow sitting between the trees caught my attention. The shadow moved and my hand fell to the hilt of my knife. Why in the names of all the gods and devils in the planes beyond didn't I bring a better weapon with me? Quin had litterally sat a dozen swords in front of me before heading back to the pier. Would it really have been that difficult to grab one?

"Parsnip?" the shadow called out. It's voice was hoarse, but familiar.

I took a wary step forward. Had one of the apprentices made it out of the fire? Or was this another one of Wraith's mind games?

"Parsnip," the shadow called again. "Please. There's not much time."

I said a silent curse at my own foolishness. If this really was one of our apprentices I had to help. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't at least try. Drawing the knife, I stepped under the shadow of a barren, dying maple tree and found a young Guildsman crouched in the underbrush tangling around the base of the tree.

"Parsnip, please help," he whispered.

"Gut hook?" I asked. "Is that you?" Before he could answer I bent and grabbed the collar of his cloak. With a grunt of effort I drug him clear of the tangle of vines and thistles he'd gotten mixed up in. Probably earned him a few extra scrapes doing that. "Can you walk?"

He lay on his back breathing hard and blinking slowly up at the sky. Dark, dry blood crusted his nostrils and upper lip, beads of sweat stood out on his brow, and his eyes were glassy and unfocused.

"Gut Hook," I said, snapping my fingers in front of his face. "Can you walk? We need to get out of here. The Tower ... The Tower is gone." The words twisted a blunt knife in my stomach. I knew the Tower was gone, but saying it out loud made the pain too real to deal with.

"I know," said Gut Hook. "I was there when it fell. I set the fire."

"You what?"

"It was him, Snip. That wizard. He ... was inside our minds. He made us do things, terrible things, that none of us wanted. I started the fire. I killed the quarter master. Oh Gods, Snare. Snare was in the Medica Hall. He was lying there. Too sick to fight. Too sick to stand, but he wouldn't take the wizards offer. He wouldn't save himself." Tears glistened at the corners of Hook's eyes. "I cut his throat, Parsnip. He wouldn't listen, so the wizard made me kill him. You have to get out of here before he comes back. You have to run."

"Oh gods," I said. "Hook, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"You run. He's coming."

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. "Are you sure? Hawk fought him, and ran him through. You're sure he's coming?"

Gut Hook jerked like a marionette at the hands of a mad puppeteer, and his breath came in quick, ragged gasps. "He's here. Can't stop him any more." He fell still and his breathing stopped.

I shuffled back towards the lost horse. "Gut Hook?"

His eyes snapped open and he shot to his feet. "Yes," he said. His voice was flat. Emotionless. Like all the colour had been drained from it.

"Hook, please, you have to fight him."

A slow grin spread across his face. The apprentice's lips were so dry they cracked and bled when he smiled. He didn't seem to notice. He didn't seem to care. "Why would I fight? I am free now, Parsnip. Free."

"No," I said. "No you aren't. You're not yourself."

"I'm more myself than I've ever been. I have nothing weighing me down now. Nothing stopping me from doing my work."

I crawled up onto a fallen log, planning to use the extra height to boost myself up onto the horse's back.

"Work like burning down our home?" I snapped.

He shrugged. "If that's what it takes, yes. Sometimes you need to burn the old growth to make way for new life. It's the way of the world."

"What about Snare? His death was just the way of the world?"

"Snare was foolish. Selfish. Too caught up in his own ambition, his own dreams to do what needed to be done for the good of the whole."

I jumped and clambered onto the back of the horse. The animal flicked its tail nervously and shied away from Gut Hook. He leapt after me, throwing himself higher into the air than any human should have, and landing on the horse's rump. The animal bolted. It was all I could do to keep from falling off. Fingers groped for the knife in my hand. I slashed. A stream of crimson jetted into the air.

Despite the pain, despite the terror of crashing blindly through the forest, Gut Hook still managed to find the energy to speak. "Snare was weak. He deserved it.

I turned awkwardly and hammered the butt of the knife into Gut Hook's back, doing my best to knock him free. "Gods damn it," I said through gritted teeth. "You were lovers!" I hit him again and he bounced off, falling the ground and rolling through the underbrush. A sharp series of snaps rang out. Whether they were branches or bones, I couldn't tell, but it didn't stop him. He pushed himself to his feet and limped after me, one leg dragging useless behind him.

A slithering, oily voice wormed it's way into my skull. "Love," Wraith sneered. "As if that would matter. Love doesn't grow crops. Selfish passions don't build homes. I am disappointed in you, Beryl. I thought you might be smart enough to see my side of things, but as it turns out, you're just one more mindless drone for the hive."

"Wraith!" I snarled. "I am going to find you, and this time, I will kill you."

"Better women have tried, Beryl. Tried and failed. Do your worst. I have nothing to fear from you."

I managed to slow the panicked horse and steered her back to the Tower, when I arrived I swung down to the ground, doing my best to land on my good leg, and of course, failing. If I could get one week where I didn't have to run, jump, fight, or kill a demigod that would be great. At this rate, I'd be stuck with one knotted, messed up leg for the rest of my life.

I worked at a scramble pace to bring Walter into line and harness the two horses. It was a monumental task. The lost one was still skittish and wasn't keen on being starpped to a wagon right now. Walter was his usual self, stubborn as a mule and he had only had one speed: glacier slow.

Quin walked out with the last case of supplies and caught me in the middle of tirade of curses that would make sailors blush and were so vile they nearly blistered Walter's stubborn, idiot hide.

"Problem?" Quin asked.

"He's here," I said.

Quin heaved the last crate into the cart. "Who is?"

"Wraith!" I struggled with the last bit of Walter's harness, growling as the fiddly laces and buckles failed to come together. "Can you help me with this idiot?"

Walter turned his head and glared at me.

I answered him with a rude gesture. "Yes, I'm talking about you, you motherless, dung-eating, jackass!"

Quin gently pushed me away from the harness. "Right," they said. "I'll do this. You take five deep breaths for me, and go fetch Mouse. He went into that secret chamber behind the tapestry."

I took the first deep breath and picked an axe out of the back of the cart before rushing back into the Tower. The secret door was wide open and led me down a short flight of stairs.

"Mouse?" I called out. "We need to move."

Mouse was tearing through the hidden room like some kind of demon possessed whirlwind. The hidden chamber was small and packed full of bookcases piled high with cracked, leather bound tomes, and bundles of yellowed scrolls. Mouse plucked a scroll from the shelves and spread it on a round table in the center of the room. His eyes blazed with violet light and he started writing on the scroll with a quill in his left hand and a stick of charcoal in his right.

Great. This was a perfect time to lose our wizard to the grips of a vision.

"Mouse," I said, shaking him by the shoulder. "Mouse, we need to go."

"Soon," he said. "Everything will be over soon."

His right hand sketched a picture of a winged dragon with the legs of an octopus on the page while his left scratched out a paragraph of nonsense text.

I snatched the quill from his hand. "Mouse. Listen! Wraith is on his way. We need to leave."

"Too late." Mouse's left hand kept trying to write, like he hadn't even noticed the quill was missing. "Wraith is here."

He snapped his fingers towards the door and a damp, cold breeze blew in.

"Thank you for the introduction, Easton," said Wraith. He was wearing his black robe with the hood pulled up, leaving his face in shadow.

I wondered if he thought it made him look tough? It wouldn't matter soon. My heart hammered in my ears and I tore my knife from its sheath, holding it and my axe high and leaping at the warlock with both weapons. Wraith held up a hand and I bounced off an invisible barrier.

"Now, now, Beryl," said Wraith. "Let's not be too hasty. After all, you wouldn't want to do anything to strain that injured leg."

I grit my teeth and pushed myself to my feet.

"You've already done quite a lot of damage," Wraith continued. "Back when I was a mere slave to the Guild, I studied as a physician for a number of years. I can help if you like."

I raised the axe and brought it down on the wall of force between us. I was beyond talking to this monster. Reason was a distant memory to me. All that mattered was the blood rushing in my ears, my heart pounding in my chest, and the need to tear Wraith limb from bloody limb.

He raised a hand and snapped his fingers. "Of course, sometimes, the patient can't be trusted to do what's best for them. Here, let's undo some of the hurt you've caused yourself."

There was a terrible, slithering, uncoiling feeling writhing beneath the skin of my thigh, and bile rose in my throat. A white hot lightning bolt of jagged, rending pain followed, and the old injury tore itself back open, ripping a gash down my leg longer and wider than the original cut. I screamed and fell to one knee, clutching at the growing red stain on my dress.

Wraith shrugged out of his midnight cloak. His shirt was torn along one side and the wound Hawk had dealt him was black and festering. "I know the pain well, Beryl. I know you won't survive it. I know you'll sit there, watching the last minutes of your life slip between your fingers as a crimson river. I have been there, Beryl, and it only made me stronger. It made me something more than human. Something that death itself won't touch." He knelt and caressed my cheek with a cold, clammy hand. "It's a gift I could give to you, if only you were smart enough, brave enough to take it."

My fingers curled around the hilt of my knife and I drove it into his upper arm. He jerked his hand back and hit me with a backhanded slap that left stars dancing in my vision and the hot copper taste of blood in my mouth.

"Idiot girl!" he shouted. "Time and time again you throw power away when it's handed to you. You're no better than that worthless whore you called a master."

A second gust of frigid air blew into the room and a chorus of screaming voices rang inside my mind like a bell tolling from a dark and forgotten pit in the deepest of all hells. "Wraith," the chorus of the damned droned. "We're past the need for willing servants. All we need is flesh for the grinder. Bones to throw into the cracked maw of war. Bleed these ones dry and raise the carcasses. All we need is meat for the frontlines."

Wraith swallowed hard and gave a shallow nod. "Yes, my lord."

He tore my knife out of his arm and put the blade against my throat.

Something hard thumped down on the table at the center of the room and Mouse growled out a word of power in a language colder and more wicked than a winter storm on a moonless night. A bolt of black lightning slammed into Wraith's chest, lifting him off the ground and slamming him into a book shelf across the room.

He howled with fury and clenched a fist, gathering a ball of golden, liquid flame. Wraith threw the fireball. Mouse was already three steps ahead. The tiny wizard rolled under the sphere of flames and with a sharp, jabbing motion, sent another spear of black lightning through Wraith's heart.

"Kill them, Wraith," the chorus of the damned screamed. "Kill them now!"

I shuffled towards the door. Blood pooled under me. Everything went grey and fuzzy around the edges.

Wraith pushed off the wall and caught Mouse by the throat, lifting him off the floor and throwing him across the room. Mouse slammed into the book shelf next to me and his head bounced off the stone with a sharp crack.

Wraith shot us a sickening smile. He stepped across the small room like he had all the time in the world and stopped by the round table. I braced against the wall behind me and mushed myself to my feet. My head swam, and without the wall to steady me, I wouldn't have been able to stand. If this was going to be it, then I was going to go out like Hawk: steel in hand, and fighting like hell.

Wraith looked over the collection of trinkets Mouse had spread across the table. He pocketed a small charm that looked like a griffon emblazoned on a miniature shield, and then hefted a bronze amulet. It looked like a metal sunrise peeking over a horizon line. He touched one of the rays of the sunrise. "Sharp enough," he said. "But it'll be messy."

The chorus of the damned laughed. "Enjoy it, Wraith. I want to see them suffer."

Everything moved in slow motion. I tried to lift the axe in my hand, but it was too heavy. The sound of my heart pounding in my ears was getting further and further away with every beat.

Wraith lifted the sunrise symbol and brought it down hard.

Mouse slammed into my, tackling me to the ground and taking the sharpened seal to the back. We landed in a tangled heap.

"Sorry, Snip," said Mouse. He was pale and pain was written all over his over.

I looked past him, and saw someone coming through the door behind Wraith. Their hair was long and trailed out behind them in smooth, raven waves. Their dark eyes burned with rage, and they held a short sword in their right hand. I had heard stories of the Northern Guardian spirits before, avenging angels who haunted the battlefield and ferried the worthy into the afterlife. This must be one of them.

"It's okay, Mouse," I said. "An angel is here to take us away."

The Angel struck out faster than anything I had ever seen before. A silver flash and Wraith's arm landed at his feet. The Warlock couldn't seem to process what had happened. He blinked down in shock at the severed limb. The Angel didn't let up. They smashed a fist into Wraith's jaw, spinning him around, and then rammed the sword through his guts, sinking it to the hilt.

Mouse rolled off of me with a groan and stared up at the angel. "Snip," he said. "That's no angel. That's Quin."

"Gods damned right it is," said Quin. The warrior bent and threw Mouse over their shoulder, before grabbing me by the collar and dragging me out of the secret chamber. They carried the two of us through the armoury and out to the stables where they lifted both of us into the back of the cart and then climbed into the drivers seat.

Quin yelled to the horses and we left Tower Four behind in a cloud of dust.

"Quin," said Mouse. "She's losing a lot of blood."

I put both hands over the gash in my thigh. "Fine," I said. "I'll be fine." The world around me, heaved and spun, and the darkness closed in, sinking me into the black.