But it was not a man.

He stood more than half again Cadryn’s height, having to duck to clear the entrance, but was emaciated in build. Overlong arms held crossed behind a wasp thin waist. He wore armor formed of living wood and metal that shifted with the movement of his body. His head was bare, but for a crown of wrought iron, from which curls of blue smoke rose where it met pale flesh.

All of this Cadryn took in, at an instant, before he’s eyes settled on the one thing most out of place: the gapping wound in his chest, and the empty place where his heart should lie. Then he met the Fae’s eyes, the same as Nine’s, and recoiled as they stole the knowledge of him.

“Cadryn Bence,” the dead Fae Lord spoke, and the words were both of sound, and touch. Crawling over, and through Cadryn. “You are known to me.”

Cadryn fell to a knee, his sword forgotten, and clawed at the sensation on his face.

Encara made to speak, overcome with a desire to know all that this creature did. But the Lord raised a clawed finger. “Languor,” he rasped.

Encara slumped to the floor, sending up a wave of dust.

Fighting to control his body, Cadryn spoke. “And you,” he lifted a shaking hand, “are known to me, First Lord of the Fae, the one who would not yield.”

“Ahhhhhh,” the creature said, and something like a laugh sprang through its peaked shoulders. “Then Nine has spoken to you. That is well.”

“How did you know . . . his name?”

“Nine told you of our power,” he replied, “but even without it, I was there.”

“You were dead,” Cadryn said, rising shakily.

“As I remain, but the dead have dreams, and sometimes that is enough.”

“For what?” Cadryn asked, moving over to check on Encara, who, true to the command, yawned sleepily, her face blissful.

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“A warning,” the revenant said, now from directly above.

Cadryn fell back, the smell of alien decay driving him near to madness. “A warning about what?” he managed, gagging.

“The survival of all that you hold dear, remember these words: The fire cannot destroy the dark, only delay it until the sun’s rising.” With that, the dead Lord withdrew, retracing his steps. As he ducked out of the chamber, Encara began to stir. “Oh,” he said, as if remembering something easily forgotten. “Tell Nine that Lord Kanon remains unbent . . . if you dare.”

With a flash, Lord Kanon, First of the Fae, who would not yield, departed the Chamber of the Foundation Stone, leaving two very worried humans in his wake. All and all, it was an enjoyable distraction from the endless wanderings of a being who could not die . . . with any luck, they might all survive what was coming, or not, mortals were such fragile things.

“And you’re sure what you saw, was real?” Sefton asked, not for the first time.

“Yes!” Cadryn insisted, looking around the tax collector’s office at the assembled leadership of the Neeft: Sefton, Silence, Captain Vaast, and Mareth. The four had already heard what Encara had to say, as the senior member of the pair of witnesses, her report of the events had precedence.

It was nearly night now, soon the dawn of the day of the Festival would arrive. Cadryn felt like he was losing his mind, why didn’t they believe him? Had living in this place for so long dulled them to reality of its strangeness? He wracked his brain for a way to convince them.

“Nine, I need Nine,” he burst out. “Now.”

Sefton and Vaast reached some kind of unspoken agreement, and the former walked to the cupboard by the window. “Nine doesn’t stay in the Neeft, he sleeps, if he sleeps, in the woods.” Opening the cupboard, he produced a firework, one of Korbinian’s from the looks of it, and set it against window. “Hand me that, will you?” he said to Cadryn, pointing at the flint and steel on his desk he used for his pipe.

Cadryn handed it over, and a few cracks later, the rocket shot skyward with a whistling scream. There was a starburst of green sparks.

“Now we wait,” Vaast said, “And you pray this is all worth the time.”

Nine arrived in an unreasonably short amount of time, and overcoming his fear, Cadryn recounted his time in the presence of Lord Kanon.

Nine stood motionless for a long while, then, apparently deciding not to kill the messenger, addressed the leaders. “He’s telling the truth, we need to prepare.”

Nine, they knew, was not the type to play games . . . at least not ones like this. So, given the somewhat urgent time frame, it was resolved the Day Shift would complete preparations for the Bonfire, with Rof staying up to get the Tower into readiness for an attack.

Meanwhile, Cadryn would get as much sleep as possible, for at dusk. He would have his first watch, on the Night Shift.