The smallest rasp of air whistled past her teeth. Dying. I am dying, she realised. A drop of crimson blood fell from her wounded palm. She watched its descent before it splashed on to the tiles. The ruins shuddered beneath her knees. The blood was pulled into the hard stone like red wine into a white cloth. A faint glow started to spread along the grouting where it had fallen. An iridescent glow, like distant starlight, wove through gaps in the tiles. Graidon threw her hand aside and it dropped to the ground. He tripped over his own feet in his haste to step back.
A rumble of fear spread through the soldiers surrounding them. A single clear voice broke through all the sounds in the courtyard.
‘Welcome home,’ it said and the light vanished, sinking deep into the ground.
The Spire had be
