Tora's heart almost choked her. She stepped on the low stone wall and vaulted over the metal barriers, landing hastily at the top of the stairs. Sprinting down, her imagination ran wild. That cacophony could only mean one thing: demons. And judging by how raucous it was even from her spot atop the monument, things were going to hell.

Expletives ran through her head. It must be Cimerus, impatient for her reply or seeing her friends as threats. She kicked herself over and over. Why hadn't she been there? Why was she so compulsive in leaving? They were in deep crap and it was all her fau—

Her senses came pouring back to her when the heavy stench of demons hit her like a brick wall, followed by such a heavy buffet of despair she was nearly knocked off her feet.

Swallowing the nausea that arose, she cast her eyes upwards. Braverley station was historical, but not old – not crumbly-walls and caved-in-roofs old. Tonight's vision could have told a very different story. Bits of the shops and walls burned, throwing jumping shadows everywhere. Parts of the stone floor were ripped out. Supporting pillars were either heavily cracked or downright shattered. The ceiling, once made of thousands of panes of dirty glass, had more holes than Carlos's Swiss cheese.

And floating near the Swiss cheese were someone's dirty black rags.

No, they weren't rags.

Tora swallowed another expletive. They were demons.

Cripes on a lolly stick.

They were unlike any demons she'd seen before. She couldn't make out their details, but the feeling they evoked made her feel worse than the time she'd fractured her legs and pelvis and was bedbound for a week: the frustrating helplessness and anger.

She caught sight of one of the dark figures standing by the ruined ticket office. She recognised the lean figure. Fire light reflected off the leather-like ebony skin.

"Cimerus!" she said, horrified. What had he done?

"Don't be fooled, Tora!" came a familiar voice. She squinted. A slumped figure was barely visible on the far side, on the same level as the rails.

"Markl?" Her throat went dry. Her eyes darted back to Cimerus again.

A chill racked through her body. She shuddered. Her gaze rose to the shadow-filled ceiling. The rags drifted closer.

For some reason, they showed no interest in Markl or Cimerus.

"Be careful!" yelled Markl and then started hacking a cough.

The temperature dropped to sub-zero. Tora didn't feel the cold, but her breathing became misty in front of her. Her heart sped up even further. Unease grew into fear. The world dimmed. The demons descended, skeletal hands outstretched for her.

She threw up a wall. The demons halted, pressing their gaseous bodies against the invisible shield. They continued to suck up her emotions, building up the helplessness. Her limbs trembled. From the depths of her mind, voices of the past began to whisper.

Tora kept her shield about herself. Markl's panicked yells became a murmur in the background. The demons closed in, nosing for any chinks in her armour.

"Go! Go without me!" she shouted, shoving Maraduc forward. The Eali stumbled. With every step, the grass beneath her feet wilted; there was little need for her to take his form after all. Her three-toed feet soon were covered in fallen dry leaves and dead petals. Trees bent over, their flowers turning grey.

Time up.

"I'm not leaving you!"

Typical bloody sentimental Eali! Lilitha scowled, desperate.

"You can't fight – at least I stand a chance! Go! I'll find you!"

An agonised look on his paled brown face, Maraduc blinked back tears and ran ahead. The remaining living flora parted for him. Lilitha watched his snow white hair and golden halo vanish among the undergrowth before turning around.

Her heart thumped. So this was what impending death felt like. She was disappointed; it was less dramatic than she'd imagined. She was fooling herself if she thought her in Eali form could put up any more of a fight than Maraduc could, but at least he was out of the way now. She was strangely calm when the sound of scuttling feet reached her ears.

Spectres, long limbs spearing into the dry grass with each step, approached, their blank faces staring at her.

She tensed.

The foremost one shifted, his long black limbs melting into a more compact form. A mop of blonde hair sprouted from the previously-smooth head. Golden eyes with slit pupils scanned her.

"Don't be ridiculous, Lilitha." Cimerus ran his hand through his jagged hair. The other Shifters surrounded her. There was no way to run. She resigned herself. "Why do you do this to me?"

"Of course this will be about you," she spat.

"You were always the impulsive one.

"And you were always father's puppet. Tell me, when was the last time you did anything of your own desire?"

Cimerus laughed at her.

"Listen to you! If you didn't smell like a Shifter, I'm sure many species would be fooled. Don't forget what you are. No matter how you shift, you're always a Shifter. All the other realms fear you, hate you."

She flinched.

"There's no place for you but home. So come back already. Don't be foolish."

Come back?

"You... aren't going to kill me?" Her disbelief was all over her face.

Cimerus laughed again.

"You know father valued you too much to do that."

Her body trembled.

"Is this just some game to you? Entertainment?"

He shook his head, pitying.

"I'm only carrying out orders, sister."

"Puppets, the lot of you!" she snarled.

"There's no point in fighting. That stupid form isn't going to do anything and there are too many of us."

She said nothing to that. Nausea gnawed away at her insides.

"We are to leave once you've... reacquired me?" Her voice was quiet. Cimerus nodded.

She swallowed. At least Maraduc would be spared. She could live with any repercussions as long as he lived.

Cimerus took her silence as submission. The Shifters flanked her. She dragged her legs, following them. Cimerus raised a finger. The veil opened in a neat and well-formed slit.

"Ah, Azyazel."

Cimerus's scarlet-faced second-in-command stepped out of the nearby bushes, a bundle tucked under his right arm. He threw it onto the floor in front of him. The bundle flopped, lifeless, on the crunch dead grass. The skin was bright red from burns, but there was no mistaking that silky white hair.

"Didn't even put up a fight." Disgust laced his voice. "Cimerus..."

Lilitha didn't hear the rest of the demon's sentence. The air left her lungs as if she were rammed by a rampaging Morphling. Her head spun. Her legs were weaker than the body of Furballs.

The tiny figure on the wilted grass was so fragile, so delicate. The smoke from Azyazel's hellfire filled her nostrils. She would have wept if she could make herself. She'd failed him. She'd failed him.

Tora screamed: a demonic sound that resonated through the empty station. The bereavement tore at her heart. It was her fault. She should have been more prepared. She shouldn't have been so thoughtless, so impulsive. Maraduc was dead and it was her fault.

Her shield melted away. Her eyes focused on Cimerus's figure, still standing by the ticket machines.

"You!"

She shot at him. Wind whistled in her ears, whipping her dark hair from her face. The surroundings became a blur.

No strategy ever crossed her mind. She dived in head-first, fists swinging. Cimerus sidestepped, golden eyes watchful of her every move. She nearly overbalanced but caught herself on time. Sucking in another furious breath, she righted herself and swung another series of punches. Cimerus either evaded or parried them all.

The more Tora missed, the more her anger raged. She saw nothing but red and Cimerus's face. His body was half-hidden in the shadows. The smooth dark face showed no expression; she longed for nothing more than to crush it between her teeth. Her lungs might burn for oxygen, her body ache for rest; she no longer cared.

Tears dripped down her face. She took no notice. Her attacks were wild, her limbs uncoordinated. She knew she stood little chance of doing actual damage even if she actually connected.

The sorrow grew heavier and heavier in her chest. Her feet caught on something in the dark. She collapsed onto all fours before Cimerus, weeping. She slammed her knuckle onto the ground, cracking both the bones and the floor. The pain made little difference to her.

"Why?" she whispered. Her vision blurred. Fat tears dripped down, vanishing into dark. A few burning remnants of the station had extinguished until most of the surroundings were plunged into darkness once more. "I wanted for nothing, only him. Why would you do that to me? Why?"

It's my fault, whispered the voice in the back of her head. Imaginary accusatory fingers pointed at her. Faces sneered at her from her mind. It's my fault it's my fault it's my fault it'smyfault...

She clutched her head. The humanity was too much. Too much regret. Too much guilt. Her eyes squeezed shut.

Stop it stop it stop it stopitstopitstopit...

Rolling into foetal position, she screamed, drowning in despair.

Overhead, the shadow demons swooped. Without her noticing, they became more active, intrigued the more desperate she felt. Her whole body trembled. Her skin turned cold. They swam around her, sucking in her emotions, enthralled.

All her strength and anger seeped away. She was relieved, in a way. No more feelings. She was free. She could no longer see anything, but she knew Cimerus was still looking at her, an indecipherable expression on his face. She could imagine Maraduc now, his thick white hair surrounding the youthful face, watching her joyfully, expectantly. She would join him. Life would be worthwhile again, instead of rotting on this godforsaken world.

"Please, kill me..."

Her ponytail swished, indicating movement from behind her.

"Gladly."

Something hard as rocks descended directly on her head. She collapsed in a heap.

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