Corvo lost track of time. It had been days, or a week. He no longer knew. After he had played with the Shadow Man, he never disobeyed Mother again. The death of Gob assured him forever that Mother was right. The Shadow Man was not a friend, but a monster. An enemy.

He followed her silently and did exactly as she said.

Mother cleaned up Gob’s body. This time she let Corvo watch. In daylight, she kneeled down beside the limp, malformed figure of the female goblin, and she put a hand to her forehead.

Her fingers flashed green. Her eyes flared blue. The light in Gob’s eyes hadn’t gone out, yet now her pupils returned to pure black.

Then, Gob slowly faded. Her body crumpled, like velum in a fireplace, incinerating, before disappearing entirely. Only her clothes were left after that.

Corvo watched on in horror.

“What did you do to her?” he whispered.

“A goblin is animated by magic,” she began, but her face twisted as she tried to think of how to explain this to a child. “Yet she only has what magic I can give her. She cannot pull it from the air, as I can. Now she is dead, so I reclaim the magic she has taken from me, and her body departs this physical world. Do you understand?”

Corvo frowned. “You ate her?”

Mother smiled sadly. “No. Not quite. Do not fret; you will understand when you are older.”

They resumed their time together, never parting company. Then Dorian returned.

Mother had been gathering up their things. She now wore the sword on a sling at all times, and she made Corvo help her pick up the few unburnt books, utensils, plates, and blankets they had brought with them. They were in the library as she sorted through the books for what seemed like the final time, when Corvo spotted Dorian out the window. His beard was longer and he swayed atop their horse, but seemed otherwise healthy.

“Look, mama!” he said.

“I see,” Mother said quietly. “Corvo. Go against the wall. Stand against it. Do not come near.”

He did as he was instructed. Mother leaned against the charred desk. Then she became silent. She folded her arms and waited.

And they waited.

“Eris?” Dorian called from below. “Are you still here?”

She looked to Corvo as she said, “We are upstairs.”

It was some time before he finally ascended, before his head peeked out from the steps and looked into the library. He smiled when he saw the two of them, yet that smile faded when he saw the scorched library.

“What happened?” he asked. “What’s wrong? Where’s that damned goblin?”

Mother had the look of a killer on her face. She stared into Dorian with blank features, yet there was fury in her eyes.

“Did something happen?” he asked again.

“You told me he was just a child,” she said. “You convinced me that what he saw was mere imagination.”

“What are you talking about?”

She inhaled slowly. Her next exhalation was like a bull’s, loud and aggressive. Then she smiled.

“Did you find what I sent you for?”

He nodded cautiously. He pulled his pack from his shoulders and withdrew a small glass vial from it, which he held upward.

“After some floundering. I had to buy it off a witch, like you said. Let’s hope she told the truth.”

Mother extended her hand toward him, as though entreating him to bring it to her. He did.

The vial exploded. Shards of red glass rained across the library. Corvo dodged one large chunk that nearly hit his arm.

“What the aether—” Dorian swore. “You—are you mad?”

Dorian’s hands suddenly fell to his sides. His pack tumbled to the ground and spilled its few contents, and he struggled against the air.

The wind itself gathered around his wrists, shackling them together.

Mother stepped toward him.

“You have missed a great deal, Dorian,” she said. “Corvo. Close your eyes. Do not look. I will know if you do, and you will spend another day in the tent alone.”

This time Corvo didn’t dare to disobey. He closed his eyes. But he listened.

“What are you talking about?” Dorian gasped, voice strained. “Let me go!”

“The Shadow Man returned while you were gone, my sweet. I have met him.”

“What? You met him?”

“Indeed I did. He was a charming thing. He fooled Corvo into reading a book. Since then, the two have become quite inseparable.”

Mother had been walking, but now her footsteps stopped.

“I can tell you wish to ask something,” she said. “But you may wish to save your breath instead.”

Dorian sputtered. He said nothing. Then he coughed, and he choked.

“He has been cursed. A curse that I cannot see. That is not magic, but something far worse.” Her melodic voice hushed. “Just like I thought at first. Yet you convinced me. You swore it was nothing. You assured me it was nothing but his imagination, and I was foolish enough to relent. But it seems you were wrong.”

“I didn’t know,” Dorian gasped.

“No. You did not. Yet for a man who is supposed to be unwaveringly honest, you do not seem so confident now. You had been. I had assumed you were willing to stake your life on your assurances. Was I wrong?”

“Don’t do this,” he said.

“It is too late for that.” Now Mother was loud and confident. “This is your fault! And worst of all, ‘tis for your sake—yours!—that we came here in the first place. If you had not come to me for help, if it had not been for your idiotic plight, we would be safe in a castle somewhere far away, with no troubles but grammar! This is your fault. And you will pay for that with your life.”

Now Corvo opened his eyes. He saw Dorian, near the window, held three feet off the air, feet dangling. His hands were bound behind his back. His neck was being crushed, his mouth toward the ceiling, as he levitated before Mother.

She paced slowly around him in circles. Her hands were held at her side, her staff against the wall nearby, but this was no deterrent. She had a look of evil to her. Of utter dedication and unflinching resolve.

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Dorian’s eyes closed.

Corvo flinched. His mouth opened. And without thinking, he rushed to her.

“Mama! You’re hurting him!”

“Stay back, Corvo!”

But he didn’t. He grabbed her arm and tugged her. “Mama!”

Her head snapped in his direction. For the briefest moment, all of her rage was focused precisely on him. She had never looked at him that way before. Her eyes were like the force of a giant wave, crashing down on him, crushing him. Her golden irises glowed with hatred.

He screamed. He let her go and fell backward to the floor, paralyzed with fear. The person he looked up at was not his Mother, but a demon, or an orc, or a dragon prepared to incinerate him. A monster.

But when she really saw him, everything changed.

Her eyebrows raised. She frowned. The cloud of evil around her face was replaced again by a mother’s tireless affection. Her hatred disappeared, and she looked like Mother again.

“I’m sorry,” Dorian whispered. “I didn’t know.”

Mother regarded him again. She gazed up into his straining eyes. And she swallowed.

He fell to the ground. Coughing. Choking. He spat up blood, before rolling to his side, then on to his back.

Mother turned her back to him. Corvo didn’t know what to do. But when he saw Dorian hurt, he rushed to his side.

“I’m okay, chicklet,” he gasped.

But he wasn’t okay. Corvo tugged at his arm. It didn’t help.

Mother ran her hand across her face. When at last she faced them again, she was calm.

“You are lucky my son likes you,” she said. “For there is nothing between us now.”

There were silent while Dorian recaptured his breath. When at last he rose upright, he patted Corvo on the head and pushed him back toward Mother.

“Please,” he said. “Just tell me what happened.”

It took a long time for Mother to decide. But finally she nodded, and she told him the whole story.

Corvo sat on Mother’s knee, yet for the first time in his life, he was not comfortable. Her outburst had him scared. He knew that she loved him, but he didn’t understand why she was so angry at Dorian, who had done nothing but be kind to them both. She was often violent and cruel to men, but those men always deserved it. Might she use her magic on the people she loved, too? Might she use it on him?

She was lucky her son was so young. His concern evaporated quickly, and within hours he regarded her again with the most unwavering trust and affection that any child possibly could.

She and Dorian talked for hours. She told him the whole story of his absence, and he listened silently. By the time she had concluded, she was in tears. Her face was red and ugly.

Corvo wasn’t used to that, either. It was what assured him that things were very serious after all.

“It is not a demon,” she snorted. “That is all I know. It is something different, that has dwelled in this tower for centuries. It is the darkness itself, given life. That is why I could not see it with my magic.”

“If it was here already, what did reading the book do?” Dorian said. “Why has it latched itself to Corvo?”

“One of the magicians who lived in this place met the Shadow Man, as all others had before him. He did not think it was dangerous; yet it frustrated him when it became solid, trying to play with him, moving his things and disrupting his experiments. Thus he robbed it of its ability to become corporeal, to speak, and to follow him from the tower, and he bound it within a book. That spell is what Corvo ended, accidentally.”

“I don’t understand. So it can speak, and walk freely now. But that doesn’t mean Corvo is cursed.”

“It should not. But it seems to. It has become obsessed with him.”

“It must want something.”

Mother shook her head. “All it wants is to play,” she whispered. “I heard for myself. And I do not understand. But I do know—it will not leave him. It wants my son. And no matter where we go, it will now follow.”

“You could be wrong.”

“I could be,” she said. “I hope I am. But I am not.”

Dorian massaged his neck. “You don’t know that it’s dangerous.”

“It is dangerous. It killed Gob. It could do the same to me or you, or Corvo, in our sleep. It killed Gob only because it disrupted its playtime; would it not kill me for the same crime?”

Dorian frowned. He shook his head. “Try reasoning with it.”

“It has been imprisoned for a century. It doesn’t see reason. It seems to be child-like, yet it is manipulative. It imitates my voice when it speaks. No doubt it thinks that Corvo will respond better to me than someone unfamiliar.” Mother closed her eyes and embraced Corvo. “I do not know what to do. I am not confident I can get rid of it.”

“But you banished the Vampire of Arqa.”

“That was a demon,” Mother said. “It was a true possession. And I have banished demons since. Demons are powerful, but most can be slain with enchanted weapons, such as Rook’s sword, and they are not subtle. Enough mana will destroy them, as it will any creature. But… the darkness? How can I exorcise the darkness?”

“Light.” Dorian nodded upward at the lights over their heads.

“No. Light does not kill the dark. It merely routs it. Darkness will always return, eventually. It cannot be cut, or burned, or banished. Darkness never dies.”

“Unless we move to Darom,” Dorian said.

Mother laughed for the first time in days. She had to cover her mouth to contain herself. Corvo had no idea what was funny.

“You have the book. Weave the spell again. Bind it in the pages,” Dorian said.

Mother shook her head. “I do not know how,” she whispered. “I am not strong enough. My studies ended too quickly. I have never been a good enchanter, and the spells required for such a thing are beyond me. Only the greatest magisters of Pyrthos will have that knowledge. And I… I am not the great sorceress I once thought I was.”

“Then that settles it. We have to take him to Pyrthos,” Dorian said.

“No,” Mother said quickly. “We will not. I am one of the most wanted, most feared, most hated magicians who has ever fled the Tower, and the father of my son was my accomplice. I would be taken and made into a servitor the moment they saw me. And Corvo…” Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. “They would not let Corvo go alive. His uncle would make sure of that.”

“You must have some plan,” Dorian said.

“Only one.” She sighed. “I will find Aletheia. She was Rook’s ward and my apprentice as a magician. And—she is my friend. The two of us together may be able to cast some spell to contain the shadow, that I cannot think to do alone.”

“Aunt Aletheia?” Corvo asked. He perked up. “We’re going to find Aunt Aletheia?”

“Yes, Corvo. That is what I said.”

“What if she can’t help?” Dorian said.

“She will be able to.”

“What if she can’t?”

“I do not know!” Mother yelled. “But I will not be defeated.” She rubbed her eyes. She had barely slept in a week. “She went to Veshod. She is not far. I have a spell by which I can find her quickly. Then… we will think of what next to do. Without the help of the Magisters, I can think of no better choice.”

Dorian rose. “Then we shouldn’t waste time.”

Mother looked up at him. “We?”

“What? Did you think I’d leave now?”

Mother rose, too, helping Corvo up with a lift of her hand. “We are freshly removed from my attempt to murder you. For which—I apologize. My temper—I thought—I thought I had it contained, but the thought of Corvo being…” She grabbed his shoulder and squeezed tight. “I should remain calmer. Calm brings clarity. Yet I have never been an especially calm woman.”

“You’re a mother,” Dorian said. “Your son is in danger. I can’t blame you.” He sighed. “No. I’ll come with you.”

“Then let us not waste time with talk.”

“But,” Dorian said quickly. “But I’d like my cure first. You said it was almost done.”

Mother glared at him. She had been softer, less intimidating, the longer the conversation had continued, but now she seemed severe again.

“I will do no such thing until this business is settled,” she said. “You had a part in this. You will help me see it through. And once my son is safe, I will make you your potion. Then whatever obligations we hold toward each other may be seen as fulfilled.” She shrugged. “Besides, you have lost your maiden’s blood. There is no way for me to brew your potion now anyway.”

Dorian had been remarkably calm through all this, but he glared at her. “That wasn’t our deal, Eris.”

“No. It wasn’t. I have changed the deal. Will you accept the new terms, or petition the Archon for a judgment in your favor?”

He stared at her. And he shook his head, until at last he smiled.

“No. That won’t be necessary. So then we’d better get going.”

They said goodbye to the tower of Keraz. The last of their things were gathered. From the laboratory, Mother took a set of vials and strange fluids, and she stored them in a box designed for carrying fragile glass. The horse was loaded with the things they would need for a journey, and they gathered in the bright magelights to gaze upon the place one final time.

Mother held her staff. The grooves beneath her fingers glowed blue. The orb at its top took flight.

“What are you doing?” Dorian asked.

She pointed the staff at the tower’s bottom.

A gust of wind rushed past them. Mother’s hair caught in the gale and snapped about her neck. Then she closed her other hand into a fist, and she made a gesture.

The tower was ripped from its foundation.

It groaned and leaned to one side. Then it groaned and leaned to the other. The wind assaulted its foundation, howling, a thousand miles an hour, and stripped away its already crumbling façade of bricks. Mother made one final swing with her staff, and the tower cracked down the middle.

It split in two.

Both sides fell in opposite directions. The bottom, like an uprooted tree; the top, like a sliced block of wood in a fencing school. Then they splintered into their materials, all their structural support stolen, and they collapsed.

There was a cacophony of bricks and wood crumbling together, so loud that Corvo covered his ears. A huge cloud of dust rose up from the ground. Birds everywhere in the woods took flight, and wings fluttered.

“There,” she said. “It will trouble no one now.”

Dorian stared in awe. “You say you’re no great sorceress?”

“There is more to greatness than power,” Mother said. “Yet I confess I was being humble.” She leaned down to Corvo and picked him up, lifting him onto the horse’s back. “We are back on the road again, my little crow. There will be darkness around us when we travel. Have you learned your lesson? Will you speak no more to the Shadow Man?”

Corvo hung his head. He had learned his lesson.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“If you see him, you will fetch me. Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Then let us go. There is no time to waste.”