Prologue

She could hear the screaming, which was good; it meant she was in the right place.

Her footsteps rang out, echoing through the gloom as Eva Saida walked the long, dark corridor, the light of her wand casting erratic shadows on the cold grey stone of the walls. The air down here was musky and damp, and under the wailing of agony and her own approach she could hear the trickle of leaking water.

The old castle had been abandoned for a long time. Seventy-eight years, to be precise, since the fall of those who had last made it great, even if such an ascendance had turned out to be nothing more than a futile clamouring for the grandeur of the past. The corridors above - those they could access - had been lined with dusty, ruined paintings of ancient warriors and wizards staring in judgement at her for her intrusion, for her blood.

She hadn't cared.

A figure lounged next to the door to her destination, which was heavy and metal and almost rusted away, useful now only for the magical enchantments around it they had resurrected. He was small but broad-shouldered, sallow-faced and with long, greasy dark hair, and leered at her as she approached. She ignored him, too, and reached for the door.

'Nobody's supposed to interrupt -'

But his hand was only on her wrist for a second before she'd twisted his grip so she had a hold of him instead. She slammed him against the cold stone wall face-first, arm twisted behind his back, and her voice dropped to a low growl. 'First: don't tell me what to do, or where to go. Second - and this is most important, Downing - don't touch me. Ever.'

Elijah Downing gave a pained gasp. 'Orders from him.'

'Which "him"? Because there's only one I give a damn about.'

'The Colonel, of course!' Then Downing had planted his heel in her shin and she hissed in pain, letting him go. He turned his back to the wall, hand on his wand, dark eyes glinting at her. 'He said nobody was to interrupt them.'

Saida watched Downing, watched him not pull his wand. She could best him, but wouldn't underestimate him. He was a vicious piece of work. 'Raskoph's upstairs. Thane asked me to come here. And you follow Thane's orders, still.'

His lip curled. 'Don't you go questionin' my loyalties. I was workin' for Thane all this year while you were pissin' around who-knows-where.'

'Oh, yes.' A sardonic tone tugged at her voice. 'Fighting in the forests of Hogwarts. Truly an epic war which tied you together as brothers. Tell me, Downing, was it three schoolchildren who captured you, or four?'

'Five,' he sneered. 'An' yer precious Thane was bested only by one, weren't he?'

She tutted. 'Careful, Downing. You never know who's listening.'

'What, you'll run off an' tell him, like a good little bitch?'

She considered beating him to a pulp and enjoyed the thought. But she had work to do. 'Just remember whose orders you follow. And they're not the old man's, and they're not even mine.'

'I do what the Colonel says because Thane tells me to listen to him. Maybe you should consider not pissin' off our employers quite so bad, Saida. We're not all like you; some of us do this for the pay, not the thrills.'

'Downing, I'm down in this grimy cellar with you. I assure you, I'm not here for the thrills,' Saida said, and turned for the door to the cell. This time he did not stop her.

The screaming had cut out occasionally through their argument, though it remained regular, rhythmic like the ticking of a clock, the silence only ever lasting so long. A small smile curled her lips, not with pleasure at the screaming - she cared not one jot one way or another for that - but simply with admiration at the meticulousness.

There were three people in the cell. Two of them were tied by magical bindings that glowed at their ankles and wrists and thus unable to move from the heavy metal chairs that had been bolted to the stone floor almost a century ago for exactly this purpose. One was a man, grey-haired and in old robes, face lined and worn. His spectacles had fallen on the floor and for the moment he was sagged forward, head bowed, blood encrusted across his chin. It was he who had been doing the screaming.

The other was a woman - a girl, really. She was about Saida's age, which meant conventional wisdom would call her a girl, though Saida had stopped considering herself a child by age fourteen and the past five years had done nothing to walk her maturity back.

But this woman's eyes were younger, far younger, even if they were piling on the years with every moment she watched the old man's plight. She was dark-haired and pretty and tears wiped rivers of clear skin across her grimy face.

It was to the third figure that Saida's attention went, however. Even in the gloomy passages underground, Prometheus Thane looked at home and in control. Colonel Raskoph had directed them here and was the one claiming the authority over them and the castle, but when they had crossed the threshold into the remains of ancient halls of noble power, it had been Thane who looked like the prodigal son come home to return them to greatness. And the entire ruin had looked like it was half-restored already just by his arrival.

Even here, with his sleeves rolled up with blood across his hands, she thought he looked lordly. Tall and pale, blond hair swept back, his were handsome features finely-chiselled, with strong cheekbones and a straight nose. Pale blue eyes fixed on a person and made promises or threats that sank to your heart and you couldn't help but believe.

Raskoph had been delighted with him on sight. But then, Raskoph was crazy. Saida was not but she, too, found him entrancing.

Thane looked at her only briefly, as if her arrival was inconsequential, before his gaze turned to the old man. 'This is your last chance, Professor,' he said, voice cold. 'Where is it?'

The old man spat out a mouthful of blood, and as Saida looked to the stone floor she could see Thane had been taking his teeth. That would be, she mused, the cause of the screaming. But when he lifted his head, there was only determination glinting in his eyes. 'Go to hell.'

'Some day,' said Thane, as if he'd just been invited to a lovely picnic but had a terribly troublesome prior commitment. 'But not today.'

Then he looked between Saida and the girl in the other chair. Saida didn't hesitate before she pulled out her wand and pointed it at the back of the girl's head. 'Avada Kedavra.'

'No-!' But the old man's strangled scream cut itself off at the flash of green light, and the girl slumped without a sound. 'She was my assistant!' he roared, German accent thicker in his distress. 'She knew nothing!'

'Which is why she was the one punished for your misdemeanour.' Thane walked over to the old man and spoke as if he were a misbehaving schoolboy. He hunkered down next to the chair so they were more of a height and continued talking in the same melodious, calm voice. 'You have no wife, not any more. My condolences. But you have... a son. Grandchildren. They're not here, for certain, but we can find them and we will find them. If more punishments must be given. Which they must be, if you remain silent.'

There was no response but the Professor's weeping as he slumped on his chair, head bowed, shoulders shaking with racking, heaving sobs of pain, anguish, and helplessness.

'I will leave you to reflect on this for a little,' said Thane, and gestured to Saida for them to both head for the door.

Downing opened and swung it shut behind them, and went to fall into step as they carried on down the corridor, but Thane lifted a hand. 'No, watch him,' he said. 'And listen for if he starts to talk to himself again.'

Downing scowled but remained at his post, and so Saida followed Thane down the long, grimy tunnel that would soon lead to the stairs up into the belly of the castle ruins. Thane did not speak until they were long past anyone's earshot. 'They found nothing?'

'They found many things. Wonderous things. But not the Chalice,' said Saida with a sigh. 'Raskoph could shatter the world with half of what his brethren brought here, but he wants only one cup.'

'This "cup" could be the key to everything,' said Thane. 'Without the Resurrection Stone...' He stopped at the foot of the steps and peered up into the gloomy sunlight that broke through grey skies above and past grey ruins further down and so barely reached this underground passageway.

Saida said nothing. She had heard how furious the Council of Thorns had been with Prometheus Thane for losing the Resurrection Stone at Hogwarts. She, herself, had been bewildered at how this unbeatable man had been outwitted by schoolchildren, but Thane had been so blunt and matter-of-fact about the issue that she suspected there was more than he was telling them.

But she didn't press, and she didn't doubt. He would have a reason. He always did.

'No,' said Thane at last, as if concluding an internal debate with himself. 'The Chalice must be found if the Council's plans are to continue.'

'Must we work with Raskoph, if the Chalice isn't here?'

'He's the one the Council gave this task -'

'Because they thought the Chalice was in the hands of his old compatriots. It would seem it's not, so that makes him nothing more than a crazy old relic of a crazy old time.'

Thane gave a smile, one of those small ones which said he was genuinely amused. 'My dear Eva,' he sighed, 'do you not approve of our employers?'

'I nothing the Council. But they're the ones paying me. Raskoph is not.'

'Raskoph is one of them.'

'One of many.'

His smile remained, and she would have sworn it softened when he stepped over, lifting a hand to her chin. He was the only person who didn't make her flinch when they touched her, and so when his fingertip brushed the scar that puckered at the left side of her jawline, she let him tilt her face up to him.

'Always so angry, Eva,' he mused. 'But we'll have to be patient. I know this is nothing more than a relic hunt. I know the Council of Thorns has other plans in the world and other plans even for Phlegethon. This might be a wild goose chase. But it's the job they've assigned to us, and after my failure at Hogwarts I am in no position to negotiate with them.'

'Even if one of them ordered you to lose the Resurrection Stone?' She hadn't know, not for sure, that her suspicion was accurate until that moment. His face, as ever, was perfectly poised, but she felt a tension in his touch, the tell of his obfuscation she wouldn't have had if his fingertips weren't still at her chin.

Which was why she'd waited before asking so bluntly.

'I was unlucky at Hogwarts,' said Thane with no other sign of hesitation. 'It does happen to us all. Which is why they make us chase ghost stories with a loon of an age that's bygone even by the Council's standards. But be patient, Eva. If we find the Chalice, we will be more than restored in their eyes. We will be lauded. Elevated.'

'You mean you will,' said Saida as he dropped his hand, not at all begrudging. That was just how this worked.

'The Professor will talk,' Thane said, as if she hadn't spoken. 'He'll break now. I give him an hour before Downing comes along. I wish such extreme methods weren't needed, but he'll talk, and he'll tell us where to go. And then we can be out of this hateful place.'

'Even if we have to keep Raskoph, I look forward to it.'

'Let me handle the Colonel. He is, after all, easily led. All we have to do is let him think he has the power and he is as satisfied as a child with cake. Now.' Thane straightened. 'Make ready our equipment for departure. I'm sure by the time you're done, the Professor will have us our next heading.'

Saida inclined her head respectfully and without another word turned to pad up the steps. She was halfway before Thane called out again, voice casual, like he was saying nothing of importance.

'They will restore and elevate me if we find the Chalice, yes. But you know I do not forget competence. You know I do not forget loyalty. And you know I could never forget you, Eva.'

She stopped but didn't turn, and for a moment she could close her eyes and imagine he was saying that to her as anything other than a trusted subordinate. Even if he had saved her, made her, elevated her from the harsh streets of Algiers and shown her the wondrous world of magic all those years ago, she knew in his eyes she was barely above the likes of Downing.

But she was above them in his regard, and that was enough. Or, she mused as she simply nodded and carried on up the stairs, it would have to be.

A/N: Welcome to Starfall, the sequel to Ignite. Don't worry, we'll get to our old favourites very soon, but in the meantime, enjoy this snippet of darkness. Many thanks to each and every one of you who's given your support to Ignite in the past, and jumped with me into this new adventure. I'm hoping it's a doozy. So, without further ado, on with the show!