Eleanon slammed into the reed beds, swallowing his cry of pain instinctively so that any enemy nearby (the creatures in the water!) might not hear his voice. For a moment he was so winded, and in so much pain from the arrows, that he could not move. Then, achingly slowly, he rolled over, hiding himself deeper within the reeds, and trying to evaluate his position.

He was terribly vulnerable. He could not fly, although perhaps if he wrenched those arrows out of his wing . . .

Worse, though, was his total lack of the power of Infinity. It had ceased abruptly the moment the Dark Spire had died.

And even worse than that . . . even his powers as an Enchanter seemed warped, as if the constant contact with Infinity had damaged them. The Star Dance was dulled, fractured, he couldn’t quite grasp it .

Eleanon could not think. He simply could not think. He had been so in control, and Elcho Falling so close to collapse . . . and now everything was ruined and his powers all but gone. He divided the reeds slightly, carefully, peering at Elcho Falling across the lake, hoping against hope that somehow it was still about to tumble into the water and that some good might come of this total disaster.

But what Eleanon saw pushed him even deeper into hopelessness — while the bloodied cracks still encircled the lower water walls of the citadel, they were very slowly closing over, almost coagulating.

Elcho Falling was healing itself now that the Dark Spire was gone.

I have to escape, Eleanon thought. I have to get as far away from here as possible.

Then, just as he was about to move, Eleanon heard the sound of someone moving through the reeds.

Axis did not bother to dampen the noise he made. He wanted Eleanon to know he was coming, and wanted him to despair hearing the strength and purpose of Axis’ footsteps.

Through the eyes of the eagle Axis had known Eleanon was not dead, and that he was lying injured within the reed beds. He had set his men to mopping up among the Lealfast lying injured on the ground, then he’d headed straight for the reed beds at a jog, sword in hand.

This was something he’d promised himself in the ice hex.

Eleanon — wounded, in pain, helpless — panicked yet once more. He scurried through the reeds, desperately seeking a hiding place, not thinking that both the noise and the frantically waving reeds were a beacon to Axis. He moved as fast as he could, pushing through stand after stand of reeds, cutting his hands and shoulders on their sharp edges as he forced his way through.

Not thinking to look behind him.

Axis paused, watching Eleanon just eight or nine paces ahead, blundering his way through the reeds. He thought of all the enemies he’d faced over his lifetimes — Borneheld, Gorgrael, the Timekeeper Demons — and then he looked at Eleanon and felt contempt.

He could not even be bothered making a last defence.

Feeling sick to the stomach, Axis hefted his sword in his hand, and ran lightly over the reeds, catching Eleanon in just seven long strides.

Ravenna coursed through the Land of Nightmares, consumed with pure joy.

Behind her, very far behind, she could hear what remained of the One, screaming — or what passed for screams from a formless, helpless bundle of pure energy.

He was not doing well amid the Nightmares.

He could not touch Infinity here.

Ravenna slowed her plunge. The Nightmares reached out for her, too, but they did not harm her, only caressed her as she passed.

She was safe, and her son — the Lord of Elcho Falling — was safe, and close to birth.

This was not where she’d hoped to bring him into life, but it would do, and it would serve to teach him a few extra tricks with which to tackle life.

She smiled, and the Nightmares about her laughed at her joy.