Isak could feel Nartis now, not as the terrorising deity of his dream, but as a brother, a father. The air shuddered as the God's divine gaze broke through the clouds and settled like a crown on Isak's head. The God's strength was there to draw on; his anger loaned fire to Isak's drained limbs.

'My people have a saying,' Isak began.

The women stopped what they were doing and narrowed their eyes at him. Isak looked from one to the other, lingering on Ostia for the longest. Suddenly she recognised some change in the air. Concern blossomed on her face as she felt Nartis. Isak could feel his own strength growing, and he saw in Ostia's eyes that she could see it too, but she ignored it, as though it was unimportant to her cause.

It confirmed Isak's thought that Ostia was not the enemy – or maybe it was just that she had no intention of making an enemy of Nartis. Either way, it was one less problem, and now Isak saw how to deal with the others. He grinned at the white-eye above him.

'They say that only a fool tries to cage a wolf.'

The white-eye stared back at him, then snorted in derision, quickly echoed by the duchess.

'Stupid creature,' the white-eye said. 'You call yourself a wolf? Ha! You are a beast, yes, but no one is strong enough to resist this ceremony, whatever grand statements you might make about your spirit.'

Isak continued to grin as his strength grew with every second. He could feel Nartis touch every inch of his skin as the power of divine blessing filled his soul. This was what it truly meant to be a white-eye, to have every fibre humming with rapturous energy. Ostia took a careful step back.

'I'm peasant stock,' he said. 'We don't make grand statements.'

'So?' She tried to affect boredom, but for the first time he could hear slight uncertainty in her voice.

'Wolves never travel alone.'

She didn't even have time to take in his words. Her eyes widened as a jolt of pain hit and her body went rigid. Her mouth fell half-open in a scream that never came. Without breaking stride, Mihn danced past her falling body, smoothly tearing Arugin from her back and bringing it up to meet the guard on Isak's right. Isak spun to his left and slammed his palm into the other soldier's throat. He felt a snap as something gave way under the blow, then reached down to grab the man's sword from its scabbard. The man's skin was also rusty-coloured; Isak briefly registered that his armour was unusually shaped and coloured.

He turned to see Ostia dive gracefully past, gathering up the Crystal Skull as the white-eye fell, then rolling back on to her feet like a street acrobat. Duchess Forell grabbed at the artefact as she straightened up, but Ostia easily slipped the Skull through the duchess's grip, then lashed out with her foot.

Isak thought he heard a bone break. The duchess collapsed, screaming in pain.

In his peripheral vision, Isak caught sight of a man – a mercenary? – darting forward and he turned and lunged, using his unnatural strength to drive through the man's shield and into his belly. He wrenched the blade violently out, snapping it clean in half, and threw what remained at the nearest soldier to give himself enough time to gather up the mercenary's sword.

Now the other mercenaries hesitated. Isak glanced at Mihn and saw two corpses lying at his feet. Tears streamed from his eyes as blood dripped from a weapon he'd vowed never to use again.

Then Isak felt a pulse of magic ripple out from the Crystal Skull as Ostia snarled something. He hurried to find some defence against the spell, whatever it was, before he realised it wasn't directed at him. Tendrils of energy rushed in all directions as crimson claws appeared in the air around the remaining mercenaries. They died without a sound, leaving only three figures standing amongst a heap of twitching corpses.

Isak could feel Eolis, his shield and helm off to one side, drawing him to them. He kept a wary distance from Ostia. 'Who in the name of the Gods are you?' he asked.

'Not in the name of the Gods.' She smiled hungrily, looking around at the corpses, and Isak saw elongated teeth behind quivering lips. She tugged her shawl over her head with a gloved hand. 'Do you not recognise me?' There was a tenderness in her voice that gave him pause; it reminded him of Xeliath.

'Should I know you?' he asked again, but as he said it, Isak felt a quiver of recognition. Not who, but what. She was fair-skinned, with dark hair, but with her wide face and small features she was clearly not Farlan.

The teeth, and the dark patch of skin that had blossomed on her cheek, burnt by the touch of sunlight, he realised. Finally, a name

came.

'Ah, I see it in your face,' she said. 'My name is Zhia Vukotic – but you do not know my face. I had wondered, but no matter.'

'Why did you kill your men?'

'If you can guess what I am, then you surely know I need no reason to kill, even by your standards.' She gave a mocking laugh. 'Yes, boy, I know that's not what you meant. I killed them because they would have proved an inconvenience; they were loyal to the Circle.'

'And you're not? I don't understand.'

'Evidently. Can you guess who they are? Or are you really so dim-witted? Then I should put you out of your misery now.'

'They- I've never seen anyone like them before.'

Then I will explain. Your man has just killed the Queen of the Fysthrall. This is the Age of Fulfilment and the banished have returned. They have changed so much. Once they were so wonderful

…' Her voice trailed off, then she shrugged. 'Now is not the time. The White Circle is their cause, not mine.'

'So why are you involved? Because they were once your allies?'

'Nostalgia? Hah.' Her laughter echoed with the weight of years. The memory of the island palace stirred in Isak's mind. Zhia had the same weary, timeless quality about her. He forced down the memory of Bahl's death. That was for later; he could not let himself grieve yet.

'I leave the obsession with the past to my brother. In any case, they are far from what we once knew. They had no idea who I was, other than that I possessed more skill and knowledge than any other of the Circle. The temptation of a Skull was easily enough for me to play the part of a quiet and faithful servant. I didn't expect taking it to be quite so easy.'

That was the only reason you were with them?'

'You're showing your innocence now. With an eternity ahead of me, playing at politics keeps me busy even if it comes to nothing.' Zhia shrugged again, taking care not to dislodge her shawl and expose herself to the sun's touch. 'If it serves a future purpose, all the better.'

'Future purpose?'

Her garrulousness was making Isak suspicious. They were the very definition of foes: Isak was blessed even beyond most Chosen; Zhia with her brothers and sister, was cursed above all others.

Time is of the essence for Narkang's king. I suggest you find a way to join him.' She blinked, then curled her lip with impatience as Isak still didn't appear to understand. 'Look, boy: the Fysthrall are far more your enemies than I. They have one ambition, to take revenge on the Gods who banished them. Understandably, thanks to the Saviour prophecies, they see you as a threat to these plans – and it appears you feature in their own prophecies. You are – or have – the key to ending their exile.'

'So they are who the Saviour's supposed to fight?' Isak wasn't sure he wanted a true answer to that. Like most, he had assumed that there was some cataclysm to come, so the creeping worry of disaster would be lurking on the horizon until it actually happened.

They believe so, but they are intellectually insular. I suggest you would be better off having a care of your own shadow more than you do the Fysthrall. Your friend the king is the man to ask about the Saviour – he has written some excellent essays on the subject. The man is obsessed with history – and making his own mark upon it.