The five dragons soared through the cool night air, which was still humming with energy, their riders still dissolved into a stunned silence. Hestia, to Milius’s left, had stopped crying; she was gazing, horrified, at the huge stretch of blackness still visible behind them, as though expecting to see Frederick loom suddenly out of the darkness and come gliding towards them. Milius’s mind was oddly blank. No thoughts of grief flashed through it, nor any more of anger, sadness, regret, or anything whatsoever. He felt completely hollow, as empty as the enormous gap still receding out of sight behind them.

Soon, however, the vast, magnificent structure of the Dragoon Cave swam into view below, the statues of the first Dragonknights glittering serenely at their posts in front of the entrance, and Milius straightened up, staring intently down at them. The sun was rising by now, casting a faint red tinge across the skyline, and the dragons landed.

But though their heads were bowed, waiting for their riders to dismount, no one moved. They all sat there for what felt like hours, avoiding each other's gazes, shifting uncomfortably. And then Calder spoke, in an uncharacteristically shaky voice.

“Well . . . we — I suppose we should —”

“Indeed,” Demus finished for him. He slid to the ground, and, very slowly, the others followed his lead. Milius took no caution in his descent, past caring what would happen next. His feet buckled as they touched the ground, pain flaring through his legs, but he remained upright, indifferent. Another set of feet touched down beside him, heavier than his own, and he turned to see Sirius, staring up at Minerva’s lifeless, bloodstained form, still resting atop Lumeus’s back.

He too turned, quite slowly, and his piercing blue eyes met Milius’s, brimming with unshed tears. He tried to speak, but no sound came out. Milius gazed into the blue eyes that were so incredibly like his mother's, his own father's sister, and saw regret there.

He said nothing to Sirius — words had failed him, too — but simply watched him; Sirius, who had always been by his side, growing up; Sirius, who had always looked out for him, even on their respective journeys as Dragonknights, always put him, Milius, ahead of himself; Sirius, who he loved like his own brother, who stared right back down at him, broken, aghast. He opened his mouth yet again, but before Milius could see whether his cousin had managed to string the words together this time, Cole, who had been as silent as everyone else, seemed to have found his own tongue as well.

“You killed him,” he whispered, looking at Milius, and as Milius turned to face him he saw the same look upon his face as that which Sirius was presently wearing. “You —”

For the first time since they had set off towards the Cave, away from the tide of darkness, emotion rose in Milius’s mind; anger bubbled inside him, rearing like a snake from long grass; he opened his mouth furiously, his grip tightening upon the hilt of Palpatunde almost instinctively, but before he could speak, the cold, curt voice of Elder Aaron rang out, “The boy isn't dead,” and everyone turned to look at him.

“Bonds beyond blood, remember? If the boy truly had passed, his soul would have flitted into that” — he jerked his head towards Ectomorda, which had been tangled into Cerea’s mane of leaves as Frederick had fallen, and which Hestia was now clutching — “and every current Knight would be made aware of it. You would have never experienced the sensation, of course, but the moment you felt it, you would have known what it was. He still breathes.”

“He’s alive?” Hestia gasped, looking up hopefully. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Aaron said dismissively.

Hestia looked confused. “But then — why —”

“Why did the flood of darkness recede the moment he had fallen into it? I have no idea, nor do I know how he possibly could have survived. That flood, as we so plainly saw, wiped out several hundred meters of land, and dug well below the surface as well. Hundreds of creatures flitted out from the depths of gods-know-where, along with a pool of natural energy. My guess is, after he had freed those beasts and uncovered the reservoir of energy gathering beneath the earth, he decided that we weren't worth his time anymore.”

“But then . . . if he's alive . . . that means that thing has him!” Cole said. “It took him — we have to get him back —”

“That will have to wait, boy,” Aaron said brusquely. “There are far more important things that require our attention at the moment, and in any case, we can't simply charge headfirst into the pool of darkness that nearly destroyed us not too long ago!” He shot half a glance at Milius, then his black eyes settled onto Shakil. “We will need you to tell us everything about this dark god. Anything at all that may be the key to defeating him once and for all.”

“We can't,” Milius said heavily, speaking for the first time so far. “Archimedes told me,” he continued, as they all turned towards him, “he can't be killed, not on this plane, at least.”

“But he can be sealed,” Calder said firmly. “Our Elders managed to — we can certainly do the same. We —”

Milius had only a split second’s warning: a piercing, whistling noise and a sharp blur whizzing through the air, heading towards them. He leapt backwards in shock, and a green, crystal-tipped arrow landed where his foot had been a second before.

Shakil and Ariana drew their swords at once, but before anyone else could do anything further, the green arrow began to glow, and a blaze of green light erupted in front of them; a moment later, a small crowd was standing before them: the three Temporal Paladins, and the three Sandstone Archers. Prominent among the group were the green-eyed Shya, holding his golden bow aloft, and Lucas, his large opal ring glinting upon his finger.

“Oh, don't tell me —” Shakil groaned, and Milius knew that he was wondering whether the Archers and the Paladins, like the Void Hunters, were also servants of Alcyeoneus, come to slay them in the Void Giant’s name.

“Easy!” Lucas said, holding up his arms.

“We're not here to fight you,” said Shya.

“Then why attack us?” Shakil snarled.

Shya bent down and seized the green, crystalline arrow, which crumbled to bits as he twirled the shaft between his fingers. “Not attack you, no,” he muttered absently. “This is a tracking arrow, moves fairly slowly, unfortunately, and only just seems to have pinned you down. We followed its signal and came here at once, using the Paladins’s rings — warped through time, I mean.” He thrust the headless remains of the arrow into his quiver and looked up at them, his emerald gaze very serious. “We saw the red sky, the beam of light — everyone in the country has. What does it mean?”

“None of your —” Cole snarled, but Ariana cut across him.

“It concerns us all!” she said. Then she turned to the newcomers. “That light signified the resurrection of a dark god — the most powerful dark god. . . . We couldn't stop the ritual, and now he's risen.”

The Temporal Paladins all looked very shocked, but the Archers’ expressions turned, surprisingly, more grim.

“The Void Hunters turned against us,” Shakil said bitterly. “They were servants of the god, biding their time until something like this happened!”

“We had a feeling they were no good,” the female Archer said. “And then our worst fears were confirmed when the light appeared; they went on a rampage at the castle — slaughtered dozens before we chased them away.”

“So that's why they were late,” Shakil said thoughtfully.

Ariana grit her teeth. “I wish I could have paid them back in full, but at least we got one of them.”

“You did, did you?” the Archer said in an approving tone. “Good, the bastards deserve it.” Then her face suddenly turned grim again. “But what's happening now, though?”

“We have no idea,” Basil said. “But that is what we were trying to figure out, so if you would kindly excuse us —”

“We want to help!” said the Paladin with the garnet ring. “Why do you think we came here? We were looking for you because you're the patron guardians of this country, but that doesn't mean we'll simply sit back and do nothing! We owe the Hunters, and it's our duty to help the innocent people who can't protect themselves. This is clearly more than a national level threat; if what you're saying is true, this is a world level crisis! We have to help!”

“They're right,” Shakil said. “We really could use all the help we can get. Especially after what just happened.”

“Oh, very well!” Basil said, his wheezy voice heavy with irritation. “But, as you yourselves have pointed out, our charges are the true guardians of this land. If you wish to come, you shall have to work as we see fit. Understood?”

There was a moment's hesitation. They they nodded in unison.

“Then let's —” Ariana began, but then she gasped, horrified, and pointed at the sky. Everyone wheeled about at the gesture, peering skywards; the sight made Milius’s stomach roll uncomfortably. Hundreds of huge dark shapes were flickering through the sky, shadows that had taken the form of mundane and magical beasts alike, all screeching in fury as they blanketed the sky, soaring towards them.

The front rows swooped, gliding downwards. First to react were the dragons; Verdona, Vrydius, and Aleia launched jets of fire, wind, and water at the oncoming crowd, dozens of whom were swallowed by the elemental plumes. Cerea reared as well, firing a hoselike stream of tiny pebbles, zipping through the air with such force that the shadow creatures burst into wisps of dark smoke at the moment of contact. Lumeus, however, did not join in on the assault. Minerva was still reposing upon his back.

The creatures were ducking around the dragons’ jets, speeding towards the ground. The Archers began firing arrows with speed that Milius could not believe was possible, each of them, at the time of contact, producing effects more wondrous than the swiftness with which they were released.

Shakil, Ariana, and Cole were lashing out as well, slashing shadow beasts into ribbons of smoke. One ducked sideways around Ariana and came hurtling straight towards Milius, who was still grasping Palpatunde very tightly, yet strangely, the command to raise the sword did not seem to register in Milius’s mind at all. He stared at the oncoming horror, almost welcoming the promise of oblivion that it carried with him, and made to close his eyes — but before he could, a streak of red crossed his vision and Vulcatrix, alive with scorching heat, tore through the monster's bodice.

Sirius whipped around, staring at him in disbelief, unaware of the creature that had taken advantage of his split second’s inattention and was sweeping towards him — and Milius’s brain caught up with his senses again. He dove forward, forced Sirius aside, and thrust the point of the blade upwards; the shadow-chimera slid down upon the gleaming metal, shrinking in size as energy filled the blade. Then it burst into nothingness, and Milius lashed out with its energy, clearing away the surrounding monsters. But it hardly seemed to have put even a dent in the fleet’s size.

“We don't have time for this!” Calder shouted. “Armada en locomotum!”

Against his better judgement, Milius wheeled around curiously, and stared at him, wide-eyed. For a moment nothing seemed to happen. Then there was a loud creaking sound and, to Milius’s amazement, the statues of the original Knights and their dragons uprooted themselves from the ground and began to move.

“What the —?” Shakil gasped, having wheeled around at Calder’s strange outburst, too.

“Argh, been a while since I moved, feel so stiff!” said the first Emerald, in a distant, echoing voice, and his Vrydius screeched loudly; it was surprisingly lifelike. The Emerald looked down at Ariana, and winked.

“Gah! I keep telling these people not to wake me up unless it's import — oh.” The first Sapphire, Vermont, as Archimedes had called him, looked up at the sky and groaned. “That looks like it's going to be a lot of work.”

“Who cares?” the Ruby shouted delightedly, quivering with excitement on his stone Verdona. “More action for us!”

“Get out of here, all of you, we'll hold them off for you,” Archimedes’ statue said. His marble eyes found Milius’s face, and there was something like a reproach in them.

“Come! All of you!” Calder shouted. They turned and followed him, Elders, Knights, Paladins, Archers, and Hestia, all at once. As they turned into the Cave, Milius glanced back: the statues of the Emerald and Ruby Knights had launched themselves into the sky, their dragons shooting a cement-like paste at their aggressors as they lashed out wildly with their stone blades, while Archimedes and Vermont remained on the ground, warding off the creatures that shot past their airborne allies in an attempt to follow the others into the Cave. They practically flew down the path that Milius knew led to the Armoury, and Calder wrenched open the door, so that they all toppled through onto the glowing, orange, labyrinthine passages.

The jewels embedded in the walls lit up again, signaling a new path, one that the current Knights had never trodden before. But they ran on and on, following the Elders, the sounds of the raging battle outside reaching their ears as they turned down a tunnelway. They burst into a new room, one as large as any of the Catacombs, and bare except for — Milius’s jaw fell open as he stared at it — a huge, swirling vortex of glistening blue energy.

“In!” Calder said urgently, pointing towards it, and no one protested, but simply dove into the hole one after the other. At Milius’s turn, he felt exactly as he had when passing through the gateways created by the mirror and stone tablet that led to Cerea and Malidreus’s Catacombs, cool and serene, as though drifting along a pleasant current of wind.

Then the current picked up and he was launched forward as though flung by an invisible discus-thrower, landing painfully on a cold, tiled floor. Rubbing his chin, he stood up. His jaw dropped again as he stared around. They were now standing inside an enormous, dark-tiled room, with patterns printed on each section of the wall and floor, forming images of the four original dragons, each topped with their riders. In each corner of the room stood a handsome marble statue, each identical to the ones that Milius had seen in the library of the Dragoon Cave, of each of the present Knights. In the dead center of the room was a square, each side, facing a specific Knight, a column made of the jewels in their swords.

Milius looked at his own statue, his happy features lit by the pleasant glow of the overhead chandelier, and felt a surge of anger again. It was as though the statue were mocking him, flashing his nervous, albeit contented smile while he himself felt his insides grating.

He was pulled from his preoccupation, however, by Shakil’s awed voice.

“What is this place?”

“This?” Basil said carelessly, waving a knotted hand around at the pristine, cavernous structure. “This, my dear pupil, is known as Knight's Tower. The Dragoon Cave is where new charges are brought to train, to become experienced in their craft and our people's history. Knight's Tower, however, is the base of operations of fully qualified Knights. A much older, more resilient, and far more remote building, brimming with some of the most ancient and powerful magic in existence — what with the shadow creatures attempting to take over the Dragoon Cave, it was the only place we could think of where we would be safe, at least for the time being.

“We were going to bring you here someday, of course, but as with your initial training, we were forced to bump up our schedule. You may explore as you wish; typically, only Dragonknights are allowed entry in this sanctuary, but seeing as though we're all on the same side now, you are wholly welcome. We will converge again soon, for now, catch your breath.”

“Milius?” Calder said gently, stepping towards him as the crowd scattered. “I'm sorry to bring this up right now, but Minerva — she cannot stay like that. I will understand if you wish not to — to send her on, at this time, so I will have her moved into another room, until you're ready.”

Milius could not speak; his eyes averted from the Elder, so that he would not see the tears flushing them, he nodded. Calder placed a hand tenderly on shoulder and swept away, beckoning Lumeus, who was still carrying Minerva’s body, along with him. It was a strange prickling feeling in his back that told him he was not entirely alone. He turned and saw Sirius, still staring at him with that blank, miserable look.

“Milius — I'm so sorry,” he choked, tears spilling out of his eyes and running down the sides of his face. “I didn't want — not him — but I thought — the sword —”

The incoherent flow of his words was cut short as Milius closed the distance between them, and flung his arms around him, his head resting against Sirius’s shoulder. Sirius was silent for a moment, clearly shocked at Milius’s reaction. But then he said in a low, disbelieving voice, “I don't understand — I thought you'd be furious with me, how can you —?”

“Just shut up, please,” Milius said, his voice slightly muffled, his eyes still burning. “It’s not your fault — it wasn't even Frederick’s, not entirely — it was mine. Everything — she died, because I couldn't let it go —”

“Hey — no — don't say that,” Sirius said, wrapping his arms around Milius in turn. “You had no idea —”

“And neither did you,” Milius said. “I just — I can't believe —” that she's gone, he wanted to say, but he could not finish. The misery that he'd been putting off since the moment he had seen Minerva’s eyes fall blank had returned in greater measure, so that his entire body fell limp with grief; he would have collapsed if not for Sirius’s firm embrace, but his cousin held tightly to him, the one anchor against a raging tide threatening to consume him.

For a few minutes they stood like that, and Milius gradually regained control. He straightened up, disentangling himself.

“Will you go with me?” he said in a thick voice.

“Always.”

And together they set off, to find the place where Minerva’s body lay, ready to be cast off for the final time.