With the combined might of the burning torches, the group kept the singing lights at bay, though the pearls continued to cloud about them. Two of the Rangers still had a few arrows, but the siren song made their fingers numb and fumbling. They held their bows notched and ready, though their grip was slack.

The chorus became almost overwhelming, and Ethan took to banging his grandfather’s club of bone against the iron of the pot lid. Even still, the song made them heavy, feet dragging and occasionally stumbling over rough stones. Yet they kept upright as the Rangers guided them down twisting lanes and streets, back towards the Central Citadel.

“Halt!” The Ranger at the front called. He wore a dog mask carved with details too fine for Ethan to properly see. The trim of his uniform denoted his rank as Lead Ranger. “We’re close to the Citadel, but we have too many ferrifae surrounding us. The torches aren’t shaking them off and it’s too dangerous to lead them closer... We need a plan.”

Ferrifae… Ethan thought the term sounded familiar, like something from a long forgotten bedtime story.

Around him, the Rangers kept their torches raised high, swinging sharply at the lights when they approached too close. Though the Rangers moved quickly, precisely, the singing lights were quicker, twisting shy of the flames.

“We could find a burning building, try to trap the blighters—” one Ranger suggested.

“And burn ourselves to toast or get buried under collapsing houses?” another countered.

“We could find one of those dragons,” a Ranger further behind Ethan called. “The ferrifae swarm them when they’re close.”

“That’s too dangerous, we have children with us!”

“We could—”

Several voices joined the debate, cutting over the top of each other.

“Alright, enough!” The Lead Ranger barked, silencing the dissidence. After a moment’s deliberation, he motioned towards a laneway further up the street.

“We move up the hill, towards the Midtown Concourse. Open space. The stalls are made of wood. We make a bonfire, a controlled fire, and see if we can’t shake off these fuckers—”

“Language! There’s kids, yeah?”

Though his eyes were shadowed by the dog mask, the glare the Lead Ranger levelled at that comment was fierce, and the Ranger who had made it shifted nervously in place.

Continuing, Dog Mask said, “Or at least gain enough range to loose the arrows. The higher vantage will give us a clearer view over the lower town. If all else fails, we can keep watch for a dragon and hope it remains distant, but pass close enough that the fae will be attracted to larger prey.”

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“So a suicide run? That’s utter madness.”

“The whole situation is madness,” Dog Mask agreed, before nodding resolutely. “This is the plan. Prince Ethan, keep up that racket.”

Ethan nodded and began banging the club harder against the metal lid. The stupor that had begun to settle as they delayed was dispelled. Despite the fatigue, Ethan kept his leaden arms raised, clanging the iron like a drum.

As a unit, they steered into the laneway, picking their way slowly but steadily up the hill. It was slow, exhausting going, the constant presence of the singing lights making their journey arduous.

The buildings were tall, narrow, and built so closely together that it was almost impossible to see much further than the next lane or winding street. The night sky above them was punctured by the pointed silhouettes of rooftops. The stars were a twinkling blur beyond the choking haze of smoke.

Occasionally their way was blocked by fire or fallen debris, and they had to find a new path, twisting through the maze of alleys.

Ethan watched in awe as the Rangers moved around him like one beast, a fluid hive communicating in sharp gestures and occasional whistles as they navigated the burning terrain.

The Rangers never let the ferrifae encroach closer than arms reach.

The two young children clutched each other’s hands, crying quietly into their sleeves, but they kept moving under the Rangers’ steady guidance.

Ethan channelled all his focus into moving forward, on maintaining the clamour that was keeping the siren song at bay, even if barely. He ignored the weight of dread that whispered death was surely around the next corner. He pushed away the panicked grief and guilt that threatened to drown him as he thought of his grandfather, left behind like a felled deer. He swallowed down the fears that whispered his whole family was surely dead by now.

He held it all distant from himself and kept placing one foot ahead of the other.

At last, they crested the hill into the open square of the Midtown Concourse. The streets were dark and empty. The buildings here were whole and unmarked, as yet untouched by the wrath of silver flames. In the cobbled central space were the tents and empty wooden stalls of the Midtown Market, all arranged in tidy rows.

“Alright, let’s get to work!”

The group tracked towards the nearest stall. The Rangers up front pried apart the rough-nailed boards of the stall while the others shielded them with torches.

Laying down a line of wood in a rough half circle, the Lead Ranger poured a thin line of torch oil over the wood. One of the others touched their torch to it and the silver fire quickened.

The ferrifae swarming the front side of the group were forced back by the rising silver flames.

“Alright! Keep laying down wood. Protect our flanks but keep a path clear to the road! Perfect! And a gap there so we can fetch more wood!”

The Rangers worked quickly and efficiently. Soon, the scorching heat of dragon flames encircled the group with gaps cleared towards the roadside and market stalls. Rangers manned gaps with their torches held high, standing as near the flames as they could bear, while the swarming fae began to flee.

As they moved further away, the ferrifae seemed to lose interest in their quarry and began to scatter into the night until only a few remained flitting about the market. The quelling call of their song dispersed with them.

The Rangers let out a loud cheer as the children sank to the ground, exhausted. Ethan shrugged out of his jacket, spreading it over the hard stones for the younger two to lay on. They curled up on the fleece lining and quickly fell into sleep.