“Run,” Mother shouted. “Run!”

She put Corvo down and stepped up to the lion, blocking the way between him and it. But Corvo did not want to run. He tugged at Mother’s sleeve as she pushed him backward, back toward Dorian and the vault door and the steps beyond. Leaving her seemed the surest way for both him and her to end up as prey in the lion’s steel jaws.

But he obeyed, like he always did. He turned and sprinted as fast as he could, until he reached Dorian and was picked up again.

Dorian carried him back to the steps—and then turned to watch what happened next.

The lion ignored Mother. Its purple eyes stayed on Corvo, and it barreled toward him. He screamed and Dorian flinched as Mother was trampled; the lion collided with her with all its weight, the panoply of bronze at its mane flaring as its head hit her chest.

But Mother was not trampled. As the lion reached her, light flashed throughout the vault; bronze splinters rained into the air and fell like raindrops across the tiled floor, and with a gesture of her staff wind as fast as any hurricane snapped through the circular room, opening books and sending hair snapping in every direction.

The lion was thrown by the gale. It hit a shelf, toppled a dozen books from their place, and collapsed to the ground.

Aletheia arose. She drew her sword and put her hand along the blade, and as she slid her palm past the fuller, its two edges ignited with gray flame.

The lion scrambled to its feet. It roared and snarled and turned its attention to Mother. But its gaze never left Corvo for long—nor the shadow at his feet.

“We are humans all!” Mother shouted. “Desist!”

Its head shook like a dazed dog. It moved like an animal, but its metallic joints gave it a jerking, puppet-like rhythm to every step.

It was not deterred.

Mother raised her staff to it. The lion began to run at her again when a sudden weight came over it, grabbing its hind legs and pulling it to the ground. Mother lowered her staff and strained with her muscles, holding it in place, but she gasped as her spell slipped.

The lion won. She could not hold it down. It stretched its legs and charged.

Aletheia sliced at its head. The enchanted sword, enhanced with a spell that would let it cut through almost any armor, deflected like an arrow off plate across its face and ears, but the bronze mane wasn’t nearly so sturdy; the blade sliced it halfway off with the ease of a knife through a daisy’s ray.

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It carried through and hit the lion’s back. Sparks flew where the sword and the armored flesh met. The lion wasn’t debilitated, but the hit surprised it, and it stumbled.

Daggers extended like claws from its feet. It turned toward Aletheia and swatted at her. She jumped back just fast enough for the longest blade to do nothing more than cut away at the fabric at her chest.

She replied with a strike at the lion’s face again, and another at its upper arm. Neither made any mark.

It jumped at her with its mouth open.

She ducked to the side and cut at its front right leg.

She and Mother had been dismantling it, removing its enchanted protection slowly, peeling away its armor. The knee on its right leg was one of the few places it was vulnerable now—the outer carapace, covered in runes, was there no longer, and instead a simple metal joint was revealed.

This time, Aletheia’s blade sliced cleanly through it.

The lion’s leg was severed at the joint. It collapsed face-first at Aletheia’s side. It snapped and clawed at her as it fell, but she evaded easily this time, coming around its side.

“The wards are too powerful,” Mother said. “I cannot harm it directly.”

“Just watch Corvo!” Aletheia said.

She spun the sword in her hand. She probed at the lion with the point, trying to strike the gem at its heart, but the creature kept her at bay, threatening to grab her wrist with its jaws if she came too close. She couldn’t get close enough to strike without being bitten.

The lion staggered upright on its three legs.

She didn’t wait. She jumped forward, into the range of the jaws. They moved as fast as an arrow through the air; the lion grabbed her leg instantly, pulling her to the ground with immense strength. She toppled to her back with a shout.

“Aletheia!” Mother shouted. She cast another spell, forming fire atop her staff, but when she tossed it at the lion, the rune-painted armor dissipated its magic harmlessly.

The lion’s jaws closed around Aletheia’s leg.

But nothing happened. Something kept the jaws apart. The knives never penetrated her skin, even as she fell.

The jade ward on her left wrist weakened. Cracks formed along its sides. Finally it snapped, splintering everywhere, shards of stone impacting the walls around them like arrows, and a terrible bruise was left on her arm beneath it, as all the penetration of the lion’s teeth was translated to blunt force on her wrist.

But she bought herself enough time. Another plate around the lion’s torso had been removed earlier, revealing its red heart gem, and from the better angle on her back, with the mouth distracted and unable to parry her, she thrust her sword deep into its chest.

The point pierced the gem. The blade met resistance, but she pushed harder, and it sank slowly to the hilt.

The force of the lion’s bite on her leg grew weaker. A trace of blood appeared on her thigh as the knife teeth no longer had the jade ward to keep them out of her flesh, but they had done little more than draw blood when Aletheia closed her eyes and disappeared.

She teleported to Mother’s side.

The lion stood upright on its three legs. Its head turned one direction and then the next. It roared.

Then its eyes went out. The purple fire disappeared.

Mother and Aletheia turned and ran to Dorian and Corvo, leading them behind the vault door. They all took cover as though waiting for an explosion. A golden shield appeared from Mother’s staff and blocked the hallway like a glass door.

They waited.

No explosion came.

The shield dissipated. They all looked into the vault again.

Vapor seeped from the lion’s gem, like fog leaking from the moon on a bright night, but the color of blood. It reached up to the roof of the vault before dispersing, spreading out evenly through the air, until it had spread itself so thin that it could no longer be seen.

Then the lion collapsed lifelessly to the ground.

The runes on the vault door went dark.