From the comfort of the fog and unconsciousness, Damien clawed upwards. He didn't dare look down. The malevolent stares of his parents and the villagers burned into the back of his head. They wanted him dead. They'd always wanted him dead. Devil's spawn, monster, demon...

If they only knew what real demons were like.

The unease dug into him. It wasn't because of the flashbacks. Something horrible happened, and it was going to get worse. He couldn't move his limbs, though. It was like someone had bound him or paralysed him, and he was helpless, only able to watch.

Voices came from nearby. They were no mere conversation. They spoke each word with delicate precision, every syllable dripping with threat. He squinted. He could barely see through the darkness. Flickers of candlelight showed him the fallen pillars and rubble. Had an explosion gone off?

The dialogue cleared the more he gripped onto reality. The deep timbre of one was familiar. Markl. The other spoke with a higher pitch, in an accent he'd never heard before. It stirred anxiety in him. That voice meant bad news.

He spread his mind around. Ross was somewhere not too far away, still knocked out. Her mind was still stuck in her flashbacks. At the far corner, he got some kind of response.

Carlos?

Oh Jesus hell, my head...

Car, you there?

Ugh... yeah. Yeah.

Damien could feel Carlos scrabbling for the nearest post to hoist himself up.

Don't try to move. Play dead.

Why? Ugh, my head. What the hell happened, man? I wanna go back to bed...

I think... I think the demons knocked us out, but didn't kill us.

Right. I'm going back to bed.

I'm serious! Demons, Braverley train station, remember? Those shadow demons?

Carlos's mind woke up at the words.

Aw crud. Now would be a good time to get our butts out of here.

Damien squinted. He made out two shapes about ten metres away. The closer one was human-shaped, broad-shouldered, and crouched. That must be Markl. The other one was further away and lean, with a long, thin tail. A demon.

"Tick, tock," said Markl. He didn't sound at all worried about the situation, even though all his teammates were defeated.

"You think too highly of yourself."

Damien recognised that voice. It was the demon from the shopping centre, the one who seemed to be targeting Tora. The Shifter.

Um, why's Markl butt naked?

That should be the least of our worries, thought Damien to himself. He lifted his head. The air chilled him to the bone. The shadow creatures must still be around. There was no way to make them out in the dim light.

A third presence alerted him. He turned his head. There was a bundle in front of the crouching Markl. The mind was confused, disorientated, but it was a powerful one nonetheless. Damien imagined facing the third being head-on might be the very last thing he would do.

"Oh, you're awa—"

Markl's voice was cut off. There was a whistle of wind and Markl darted backwards, something gleaming in his outstretched hand. The Shifter closed the space between them, a snarl in the depth of his throat. He attacked Markl in a fury of swipes that was too quick for Damien to see, even if there was enough light. His footwork was light; each jump from the ground barely made a sound. Damien could imagine talons at the end of each hand, like an eagle's, and one swipe could easily take off Markl's arm.

Markl was putting up a good front, though. Although he was heavier and thicker-set, he managed to keep up with the demon's speed. Damien had never seen the leader move so fast. Each move was calculated and he didn't dare take any risks that would result in an injury. Damien frowned. This style was completely unlike the way Markl normally fought, which was head-on and then he would heal from any repercussions. Perhaps he had healed too much already? But judging by how he kept up with the Shifter, he didn't seem fatigued.

Something in Markl's hand caught Damien's eye. It was a bright yellow cylinder, fitting snugly in Mark's beefy fingers. He kept a firm grip on it during the demon's assaults. There was something similar in his other hand.

He backed into the wall making up the side of the bridge. The demon screeched, diving on him, claws flailing.

There was a clang and the demon bounced off.

Damien rubbed his eyes. There was no mistake: Markl sustained no damage; it was as if Tora had thrown the forcefield around him. The demon leapt back onto his feet, furious.

There was another clang and the demon stumbled backwards.

Markl took the opportunity to ram his shoulder into the demon's abdomen. The demon didn't fall very far; its slim body gave it a false sense of flimsiness. Markl raised the weapon in his other hand – a golden knife – and slashed at the demon's throat.

It connected. The demon's head snapped back.

Damien waited for the blood spurt and gurgle that never came.

The demon raised its leg and kicked Markl squarely in the lower abdomen. Both weapons shot out of his hand, bouncing on the floor in a metallic symphony. The leader shot backwards. He slammed into the wall. Cracks resonated around the station.

"Amateur," said the demon. "Lyre magical weaponry could never be assault weapons. But then you Sentinels were never with the Lyres long enough to find out; you could have learnt more from them before you extinguished them."

I thought Markl was a Lyre.

Demon says no, apparently.

The third mind caught Damien's attention again. It had oriented itself. Memories came flooding back and rode off it in waves. Damien reached his mind out, catching some of them.

Destruction, triumph. The thrill of great power wielded against the lesser, fulfilling her tasks.

Love, loss, betrayal. A dark ominous figure of a father, destroying her future. The sides he'd never seen before. She was no ordinary girl. She'd never been ordinary. But those emotions, so raw, so lively – it couldn't possibly be a demon.

Happiness, carefreeness. Humans. Flanked and supported by friends. Acceptance.

Damien swallowed. He recognised his own face and the faces of the three others grinning in the memory. There was so much love and happiness.

Tora.

What? That's Tora?

Damien cursed to himself. He didn't realise his mind had thought that out loud. Before he knew it, Carlos had scrabbled to his feet from the other side of the ticket station.

"Tora!"

Car, wait! Damien pushed himself up. The nausea rose by tenfold. The shadow demons turned, alerted by the sounds. By the time Damien had stumbled over to Tora, Carlos was shaking her, calling her name. She didn't respond at first. Her arm dangled by her side, almost severed but for a stretch of skin. Her head flopped, limp.

"She's not dead, is she?"

Damien sneaked a glance at her. She was so still. Without a word, his eyes darted back to Markl and the Shifter. Both were still engaged in their fight, although Markl was visibly slower.

He fought the retching sensation as the demons swooped.

"Aw, man, what happened to your face?"

Damien flinched when the dim firelight highlighted her broken nose and gash along her brow line. She blinked, barley able to see.

"Wow, you look a mess."

"Oh yeah?" Tora spat out a mouthful of blood. Her voice was weak. More oozed out of the gaping wound on her forehead. "I feel fantastic."

The familiarity of her voice lit a warm, safe feeling in Damien's stomach. That quickly drained. She groaned. Carlos supported her into a sitting position. She yelped when her arm tugged along with her.

"Guys..." Damien didn't want to press her, but the shadows closed in, the voids beneath their hoods turned to them. The Seekers' breaths turned frosty again. Damien forced the screaming voices into submission in the back of his head. He reached his mind to Carlos's, stemming his claustrophobia arising from the dark days and loneliness: the silence, the shifting shadows, and the sheer isolation from civilisation.

He reached out to Tora, but she looked straight up at the shadows. Raising her remaining good hand, she cast a forcefield around them.

The shadows pressed against it, hungry. Their gaseous capes whipped at their non-existent feet. Bony hands scrabbled at the shield.

Her face pale and her breathing shallow, Tora maintained her gaze. Her shield shimmered, just about managing to maintain the protection. Her consciousness swam in and out. What little blood left drained from her face. She was losing grips with reality.

"Tora, stop this," he whispered. She was going to kill herself at this rate. There was only so much damage anyone can take, even someone like her.

She shook her head. Beads of sweat ran down her face before dropping into the shadows. Her hand shook. The shield flickered. Sensing her weakness, the shadows honed in again, bouncing off the wall.

"You have to shift, Lilitha."

Carlos yelped, falling over backwards. Tora almost toppled over when her support gave way. Damien's heart just doubled in rate as he stared up, feeling the blood draining from his face, at the Shifter. He didn't even hear him approach.

Up close, although he was human-like, he definitely had features that suggested something wasn't quite right. He stood just a little too still, even though he was covered in bruises and his clothes – non-descriptive shirt and chinos – were ripped in several places. His eyes were golden in colour, too bright to be normal. His presence emanated overwhelming power. It was like being in the presence of a deadly political leader.

"Stay away from her!" Carlos said in a hoarse voice. The demon didn't even acknowledge hearing his words.

"If you don't shift, you'll die."

"No... I'm not going that way again," Tora croaked, her head still bowed.

The demon remained icily calm.

"Then you will die."

"I'd rather die than become a monster."

"And these two will die with you."

She stiffened. Damien's heart skipped a beat. Was this guy going to kill them? He swallowed, looking up at the hungry shadows. He wasn't sure which way to go would be more painful.

He certainly didn't imagine he would die like this.

"You're just gonna let her die?" Carlos said, incredulous despite the situation. "Isn't she like a comrade or whatever? You're here for her! Can't you, like, heal her or something?"

Damien wished he would shut up.

The Shifter turned a gaze at him. Carlos swallowed, scuttling backwards.

"N-never mind..."

"It's up to you to realise your potential."

It seemed not even his own target was worth saving, let alone her friends.

"Think of the repercussions of your impulsivity. It won't be the first."

Tora flinched at that and lifted her head. Her eyes had turned golden.

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