‘Sorry…’ Zoe grimaced, pinching her eyes shut and burying her head in her hands. ‘I just… froze. Again.’

Sitting only a couple feet to Zoe’s side, Dorian let out a short, stoic sigh and reached across to pat her reassuringly on the shoulder.

The two of them were huddled in the cellar of some kind of tavern, having secreted themselves through the exterior access hatch in their flight from the cloaked nightmare that was still searching for them outside.

‘It’s all right,’ Dorian told her, retrieving his arm and resting it across his knee. ‘It’s my fault for not finding another route as soon as we saw there was one of them on that street.’

There was a short silence, permeated only by the muffled banging and scrabbling outside as the giant and its constructs hunted for their hidden prize.

‘Those creatures,’ Zoe asked, ‘those uhh… “nightmares”. Why would they build all this?’ She gestured to the cellar around them. ‘Can’t they just… dream up anything they want? Why build a pub to go to, or mess about with making glass, or whatever that one was talking about back there?’

‘Beats me,’ Dorian shrugged. ‘On the manufacturing part, anyway. The wine’s not bad, though.’ So saying, he pushed himself up to his feet – disturbing Faust who had been resting on the wall by his side – and walked across to the nearest shelf, rifling through the stock for a moment before pulling free a dark, oversized bottle and returning to sit back down.

‘I mean,’ he explained as he conjured a corkscrew out of his pocket and set about opening the bottle, ‘eating and drinking here doesn’t really achieve much, but it’s still… I dunno. Good for morale?’ The cork came free with a soft pop, and Dorian wafted the throat of the bottle under his nose before holding it out for Zoe to do the same.

The liquid within smelled of honey and berries.

‘You could just make your own whenever you wanted, though, right?’ Zoe pointed out, watching as Dorian took a careful swig from the ungainly bottle, and hesitantly accepting as he passed it her way.

‘Only if it’s something you’ve tasted before,’ Dorian shrugged. ‘Plus, something about this place… Everything from the City’s less… changeable than everywhere else.’ Zoe took a drink, and sighed deeply as she unexpectedly found herself enjoying the taste.

‘More consistent flavour,’ Dorian finished, taking the bottle back, ‘is what I guess I’m trying to say.’

The boy went to take another swig before pausing as his gaze fell upon the butterfly once more perched on the wall beside him. The little creature almost looked sullen, as if it somehow felt it was missing out.

‘Hrm…’ he mumbled, lowering the bottle again and carefully wiping his finger around the rim. With a droplet of wine now glistening on his fingertip, he offered his hand out to Faust, who quickly perked up and fluttered over to land in the boy’s palm.

‘That’s all you’re getting, though,’ he told the insect as it drank the droplet of wine. ‘I mean, you don’t even weigh half a pound sodden…’

Zoe chuckled to herself as she watched Dorian deposit Faust onto his knee and reach up to wipe his hand off on his coat, jostling his cravat as he did so and inadvertently drawing her attention to the glimmering piece of silver perched on top.

‘Does that help?’ she asked, pointing to the simple cross necklace. ‘I mean,’ she clarified, dropping her hand and resting her palm on the cold floor, ‘I dunno about you, but I’m not all too crazy about what passes for religion around here.’

‘Kind of,’ the boy shrugged. ‘A little less literally than it used to before I got here, maybe. But still, it always felt like there was something true at the very heart of it, and that hasn’t gone away.’ He gave her a tired smile, still not entirely recovered from his earlier demise. ‘Doesn’t really make a difference what those twisted things do with the same source material, heh.’

He politely gestured her way.

‘You…?’

‘Oh,’ Zoe shrugged. ‘Agnostic, I guess. My mum used to be pretty big on church, but…’ She nodded to one side, understanding Dorian’s sentiment to some degree. ‘Yeah, maybe there was something meaningful underneath it all. But it certainly was underneath a whole awful lot. At the end of the day, I figure the uhh… “capital-T Truth” probably isn’t hanging out all tangled up somewhere in a state institution. Y’know.’

Dorian laughed as loudly as he dared, taking another swig of wine and passing it across to Zoe, who did likewise.

‘God knows, if it was,’ he replied, ‘someone’d have found it by now.’ He chuckled to himself and shook his head. ‘Can’t believe I wanted to be a seminarian before I ended up here…’

‘Really?’ Zoe giggled softly in response, finding it hard to imagine the boy next to her giving a sermon.

‘Yeah, really,’ Dorian smirked. ‘Still kinda want to go down the theology route – like I said, the kernel of truth’s still there – but yeah. Might have gone off organised religion a bit since it started trying to eat me.’ He put the wine bottle down to one side, not noticing as Faust hopped down off his knee and crept his way up the glass.

‘You?’ he asked, leaning back a little against the stony wall. ‘I mean, I presume hunting down your brother isn’t a full-time future aspiration?’

‘I dunno,’ Zoe replied, letting her head roll back. ‘Find a job I don’t hate. Preferably one that makes other people’s lives a little better. Meet a guy, raise a family…’ She glanced across to Dorian and gave him a small, unbothered shrug.

‘That kernel of truth’s just as likely to be there as anywhere else, right?’ she concluded, to which Dorian pursed his lips in consideration before raising an eyebrow and giving her a subtle nod.

The three of them sat in silence for a little while, Faust managing to clean off the rest of the wine droplets from the bottle’s exterior before Dorian finally noticed and replaced the cork.

‘I think,’ Zoe said, glancing up to the closed cellar hatch, ‘they might be gone…?’

‘Yeah,’ Dorian agreed, following her gaze for a moment before pushing himself up and offering her a hand. ‘Haven’t heard anything in a while. Probably best we don’t lose any more time than we have to.’

‘Agreed,’ Zoe nodded, focusing her mind back on the task at hand and reaching up to take the boy’s outstretched hand.

***

Dorian sized up the three dead-eyed City constructs busy repairing the wrought iron railing right by the steps leading up and to their destination.

Every other road they’d tried had been teeming with nightmares, each seemingly existing in its own unique state somewhere between total madness and vague lucidity, but all more dangerous than Dorian was comfortable engaging with. This was the only way in left.

‘They’re just constructs,’ Zoe whispered, peering around the corner of the workshop behind which the two of them were hiding. ‘And no nightmares nearby, so can’t we just… y’know…?’ She made a walking motion with her fingers across the palm of her hand, ending with a shrug.

Dorian considered her suggestion for a moment, looking Zoe up and down before turning his attention back to the constructs.

‘Probably,’ he replied. ‘But… this could be a good chance for you to practise not “freezing up”.’ He nodded to the side. ‘I’ll take the two on the left, you take the one on the right.’

Zoe’s eyes widened, and she gave the back of Dorian’s head a sceptical look.

‘Um, do we really have time for this…?’ she asked. ‘I mean, no offence, but I don’t plan on coming back here after we’ve found my brother. Other than to let you know once we’ve got your body back to Holmstowe.’

‘Better to take a crack at it now,’ Dorian replied, glancing back her way, ‘when it’s relatively safe. Rather than after something gets me, and you not freezing’s the only thing between getting your brother out and missing your shot.’

‘I…’ Zoe shook her head. ‘I mean, I get that, but I’m not… y’know, into the whole swords and fighting thing like you are. What do you really think I’m gonna be able to pick up between now and the end of the night…?’

‘I’d remind you,’ Dorian told her, ‘that, up until quite recently, my life’s ambition was to help support the poor and hand out communion on Sundays…’ He held her gaze for a few moments before returning his attention to the constructs.

‘Everything I know,’ he continued, ‘I learned either through books I used to read about medieval knights as a kid, or through trial and error. Trust me, I’d have killed to have even one chance to practise with someone watching my back before I had to face down a nightmare on my own.’

Zoe considered for a moment – hardly keen on the idea – before eventually letting out a long sigh and nodding her head.

‘Fine,’ she relented, ‘what do I do?’

‘Visualise a weapon,’ Dorian told her, ‘probably a spear… Tried and tested as the layman’s go-to.’ He nodded behind her. ‘Just something about your height for now. Think very solid wooden shaft, and a sharp, pointed metal tip.’

Zoe sighed again, but gave the exercise her best go all the same, picturing something she’d seen in a medieval museum exhibit one time and visualising it leaned up against the building behind her.

Once she had a solid image in her mind, she reached back and felt her hand wrap around a cold, wooden pole. Pulling the weapon into view in front of her, she noted with some interest that it really was an exact replica of the museum piece she’d been envisioning. Aged, dark wooden shaft, a curved, silvery crossbar, and a pointed, leaf-shaped tip at the end.

‘Nice,’ Dorian nodded. ‘Now, just remember to use the weapon’s strengths to your advantage. It’s an extension of yourself. Emphasis on “extension”. A spear gives you good reach, so make sure nothing gets between you and the sharp bit, or you’re in trouble.’

He silently directed her to give it a few practice thrusts and test its weight. Zoe felt immensely silly poking at the empty air in front of her, but she had to admit that she already felt just a little safer for having the weapon in her hands.

‘Only other thing to remember,’ Dorian told her, occasionally checking back over his shoulder to ensure they were still alone, ‘is that it doesn’t matter how strong or weak you are here. Everything’s in your mind: the strength of your will against your opponent’s. So long as you’re good enough at convincing yourself you can in the moment, there’s technically no reason you can’t overpower a nightmare ten times your size.’

‘Um,’ Zoe replied, frowning as she played around with repositioning her spear, ‘right… Keep the pointy end between me and the target, don’t get too close, and uhh… “believe in myself”… Got it.’

‘That’s about the long and short of it,’ Dorian nodded.

‘Great,’ Zoe nodded, eager to be getting on. ‘So… what next…?’

‘Next,’ Dorian replied, turning and pointing to the rightmost of the constructs now banging away at the warped iron railing, ‘sneak up behind him, and run him through.’

‘Simple as that, huh…’ Zoe grimaced, eyeing up her target and trying very hard to remember that it wasn’t actually a human being she was watching and planning to kill.

‘Mostly,’ Dorian nodded, ‘just uhh… try to aim for the heart. Or the lungs. Or the neck.’ He glanced back and noted Zoe’s visible distaste.

‘Sorry,’ he explained, ‘just, the usual targets still seem to work best, even here.’ He gave her an apologetic shrug and tilted his head back towards the constructs. ‘They may not be real, but I don’t think anyone’s ever actually told them that.’