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Dougan　greeted　Lorenzo　with　a　nod。　They　were　to　share　the　last　two…hour　watch。　Typical　of
Greiss；　thought　Lorenzo；　to　pair　him　up　with　a　veteran；　as　if　he　still　needed　watching　over。　The　rest
of　his　squad　were　shadowy　mounds　in　the　darkness—though　he　could　identify　the　sergeant　by　his
quiet　but　distinctive　snore；　like　a　grox　breaking　wind。　Presumably；　it　was　Braxton　who　was
twitching　in　his　sleep　and　sometimes　letting　out　a　quiet　whimper—while　Muldoon；　of　course；　was
the　one　tied　to　the　tree。　“Keep　an　eye　on　him；”　advised　Storm；　nodding　toward　their　unconscious
comrade。　“Woods　says　he　woke　during　his　watch；　muttered　all　kinds　of　gibberish　about　daemons
and　monsters。　Hotshot　had　to　slug　him　one　to　put　him　back　under。”
Lorenzo　was　disappointed　to　hear　it。　He’d　hoped　that　time；　or　maybe　one　of　the　herbal　remedies
Donovits　had　forced　down　Muldoon’s　throat；　may　have　dispelled　his　hallucinations。　For　all　that
Greiss　and　Woods　had　said　to　Mackenzie；　the　Catachans　knew　they　couldn’t　lug　Muldoon　around
with　them　indefinitely。　There　would　come　a　time　when　they’d　have　to　accept　that　he　was　lost。
Myers　and　Storm　lay　down；　and　soon　their　heavy　breaths　joined　the　sleeping　chorus　around
Lorenzo。　He　sat　on　a　tree　stump；　left　behind　after　Armstrong　had　unpacked　a　machete　and　made
firewood。　It　was　a　little　too　small　for　him；　and　he　was　uncomfortable—but　then　comfort　was　hardly
desirable　when　the　lives　of　your　comrades　depended　on　your　staying　alert。
Dougan　knew　that　too；　and　he　was　circling　the　camp　slowly。　His　soft　footsteps　were　barely
audible；　but　Lorenzo　could　tell　that　his　artificial　foot　fell　a　little　more　heavily　than　the　real　one。
Dougan　didn’t　like　to　sit　on　duty。　He　didn’t　like　to　take　the　risk　of　his　leg　seizing　up　at　a　critical
moment。
It　was　about　forty　minutes　later　that　Lorenzo　saw　the　light。
He　wasn’t　sure　what　it　was　at　first：　a　faint　blue　glow；　somewhere　between　the　trees；　lasting　just
an　instant。　He　couldn’t　pinpoint　its　location；　he　had　no　idea　how　far　away　it　had　been。　He　had　been
sharpening　his　Catachan　fang；　but　now　he　froze—and　Dougan；　though　he　was　somewhere　behind
Lorenzo　on　his　latest　circuit；　picked　up　on　his　body　language　and　did　likewise。
It　could　have　been　a　trick　of　the　approaching　dawn。　The　sky　was　now　a　deep　indigo。　But　no；
there　it　was　again。　Too　soft；　too　muted　to　be　a　torch；　it　wasn’t　the　kind　of　light　you　could　see　by。
And　yet　too　wide；　too　sustained　to　be　an　accidental　glint　off　a　weapon　or　a　suit　of　powered　armour。
Lorenzo　grabbed　for　a　stick；　and　brushed　it　across　the　embers　of　the　fire；　smothering　them　in
their　own　ashes。
The　blue　light　was　clearer　to　him　now；　but　still　maddeningly　undefined；　still　seeming　to　lurk　at
the　edge　of　his　vision；　never　quite　in　focus。　One　second；　it　was　at　ground　level；　the　next；　it
glimmered　through　the　branches　at　head　height；　and　every　time　he　moved　his　eyes　to　find　it；　it
slipped　away　from　him。　Some　sort　of　glowing　creature；　Lorenzo　wondered？　What　was　that　word
Brains　had　once　used？　“Bioluminescence”。　He　wondered　if　he　should　wake　the　others；　but　he
pictured　their　faces　if　he　did　and　they　found　he’d　been　spooked　by　a　swarm　of　fireflies。
Anyway；　the　light　was　coming　no　closer。
He　watched　it　a　moment　longer。
It　blinked　out。
A　second　ago；　there　had　been　a　wisp　of　smoke　coiling　up　from　the　ashes　of　the　campfire。　Now；　it
was　gone。　The　sky　was　a　little　lighter—wasn’t　it？　Lorenzo　frowned；　and　crouched　by　the　ashes。　He
touched　them　tentatively。　They　were　still　warm；　but　cooler　than　they　ought　to　have　been。　His　mind
was　straggling　to　catch　up　with　what　his　senses　were　telling　him：　that　some　minutes　had　passed
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without　him　knowing　it。　It　took　some　time　for　the　message　to　get　through—but　when　it　finally　did；
Lorenzo　stiffened　in　horror。
The　light　had　hypnotised　him；　dulled　his　mind。　Anything　could　have　happened　while　he’d　been
distracted。　Anything　could　have　crept　into　the　camp；　and　dragged　his　comrades　away　while　they
slept。
There　was　something。　A　shape　at　his　shoulder。　Lorenzo　whirled　around；　but　it　was　only　Dougan。
“It’s　alright；　son；”　the　veteran　assured　him　in　a　whisper。　“We　zoned　out　for　a　minute　or　two；　that’s
all。　Everyone’s　alright。”
“Old　Hardhead　said　something；”　Lorenzo　recalled；　“in　the　mess　hall　yesterday。”　Why　was　it　so
hard　to　remember？
“Something　about…　about　ghosts。　Lights　that　lured　Guardsmen　into…　ambushes；　I　guess。　I
didn’t　realise…　I　didn’t　feel　it；　but　that　thing　must　have　got　inside　my　head。”
Dougan　nodded　gravely。　“I’m　going　out　there；”　he　announced。
“But—”
“We　need　to　know　what　we’re　facing。　Don’t　worry。　We’ve　seen　what　it　does　now；　and　we’ve
shaken　it　off　once。　It　won’t　fool　me　again。　It’s　just　a　question　of　focus。　It　won’t　even　see　me
coming。”
“You’re　right。”　Of　course　he　was　right。　Lorenzo　wished　he　had　realised　it　sooner；　then　he　could
have　been　the　one　to　volunteer；　to　have　gone　out　there　alone。　To　have　made　a　name　for　himself；
perhaps。　“I’ll　come　with　you；”　he　offered。
Dougan　shook　his　head。　“You　need　to　stay　here；　watch　the　camp。　Could　be　this　light’s　meant　to
lure　us　away　while　something　worse　creeps　up　from　behind。”
“I　can　wake　one　of　the　others。”
“No　need　to　panic　them　just　yet。　It’s　best　I　go　alone。　You　could　be　right　about　there　being　an
ambush。　Any　trouble　out　there；　I’ll　shout　a　warning。　Then　you　can　wake　the　others；　and　point　them
in　my　direction。　I’m　counting　on　you；　Lorenzo。”
Lorenzo　shook　his　head。　“I’m　coming　with　you。”
Dougan　laid　a　hand　on　his　shoulder；　and　looked　him　right　in　the　eye　with　an　unnerving　intensity。
“Let　me　do　this；”　he　said。　“I　need　to　do　this！”
Lorenzo　was　left　in　no　doubt　that　he　did。　He　nodded　glumly；　and　Dougan　smiled　and　clapped
him　companionably　on　the　arm。　Then　he　slipped　away　into　the　jungle；　in　the　direction　in　which　the
blue　light　had　last　been　sighted。　After　only　a　few　seconds；　Lorenzo　could　neither　see　nor　hear　him。
Why　did　Dougan　need　to　do　this？
He’d　had　his　share　of　glory。　Why　couldn’t　he　have　let　someone　else　have　a　taste　of　it；　this　once？
Why　had　Lorenzo　accepted　what　he’d　said？　Why　hadn’t　he　spoken　up；　persuaded　Dougan　that　his
need　was　greater？
He　had　picked　up　a　stick—and　as　resentment　welled　in　his　chest　like　a　living　thing；　he　felt　the
wood　snapping　in　his　clenched　fist；　driving　a　splinter　into　his　palm。　How　could　he　ever　prove　his
worth？
He　pulled　himself　together；　horrified　by　what　he　had　been　thinking。　He　admired　these　men；
trusted　them　more　than　anyone　or　anything　else。　He　surveyed　the　sleeping　bodies　around　him；　tried
to　remind　himself　of　that—but　that　feeling　in　his　chest　was　back；　and　he　hated　them；　all　of　them；　for
keeping　him　here。　He　hated　Old　Hardhead　Greiss　and　Hotshot　Woods；　hated　Steel　Toe　Dougan　most
of　all。
The　light　was　back。　Lorenzo　noted　its　presence　with　a　numb　feeling　of　acceptance；　because
somehow　he　knew　it　had　been　there　all　along。　It　was　brighter　than　before—and　behind　him；　this
time。　In　the　opposite　direction　from　the　one　in　which　Dougan　had　gone。　And　closer。　Almost　close
enough　to　touch；　it　seemed。　For　a　second；　just　a　second；　Lorenzo’s　dulled　mind　grasped　the　idea　that
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the　blue　light　was　fooling　him；　playing　with　his　thoughts　and　feelings—but　then　that　revelation
slipped　away　and　was　forgotten。
It　might　not　have　seen　him；　he　thought。　It　didn’t　know　he　was　here。　It　probably　thought　he　had
gone　off　with　Dougan；　fallen　for　its　lure。　It　probably　thought　it　could　move　in　now；　for　the　kill—but
the　light　had　underestimated　him。
A　few　steps。　A　few　steps　into　the　dark；　that　was　all　it　would　take。　Lorenzo　could　be　the　hero　for
once；　the　man　who　had　captured　the　light　itself。
To　his　credit；　he　did　hesitate。　He　tore　his　eyes　away　from　the　light　and　shook　his　head　to　clear　it。
He　understood　that　the　light　had　been　clouding　his　thoughts；　though　he　certainly　didn’t　appreciate
the　extent　of　its　influence。　He　remembered　what　Dougan　had　said。　A　question　of　focus。　So　he
focused　on　what　he　knew；　his　comrades；　and　reassured　himself　with　the　knowledge　that　they　were
real　and　tangible。　He　tested　his　senses　one　by　one；　listening；　breathing；　feeling；　and　found　each　of
them　as　sharp　as　he　remembered。
Then　Lo