Another rocket split the sky. Finding its target, the missile utterly destroyed the lookout tower at the southern tip of Coldharbour Farm, behind the stables.

A new cluster of shadows filled the sky. They moved towards the island, dipping below the circling birds and skimming the water like a squadron of pelicans.

Erin dropped to the ground, her eyes wide, watching the strange shadows approach. Rubbing the dirt from her face she pushed her broken glasses up her nose, still not convinced about the validity of what swarmed towards her.

Row upon row of mannequins flew towards the island, their feet hoisted above the water, as hundreds of birds airlifted them into battle. Landing like paratroopers, weapons raised, fifty or more battle-hardened mannequins stormed Coldharbour Farm in a deafening frenzy.

The golems and the remaining Redkites met the mannequins head on. The night exploded in a clash of metal and vengeful screams. Blades sliced through the night air. Flaming tree trunks rolled down the hill toward the burning carcass of The Black Peril.

The eastern lookout tower exploded in a ball of flames as another rocket from HMS Fortitude found its target. Erin squealed, crawling for cover, the PennyBombs in her pockets pressing against her skin.

All across the courtyard, mannequins were going down under Eight's sword.

A strange dark vapour swirled around the scarecrow, spitting in numerous directions, grabbing mannequins in a choking embrace. They reminded her of the icy fingers that had reached out to them on The Endless Blue, but these were something different— something darker. The mannequins hung motionless for a moment as the vapour smothered every inch of their bodies, coiling like tentacles, before dropping them to the ground, utterly spent. A terrible rage wailed from the dolls heads in Eight's damaged chest, their detestable eyes glowing vivid red, as she despatched one mannequin after the next.

Eight threw curses at the birds circling above. "Cowards! Cravens!" she barked. "Come down and fight me!"

"She's destroying everything—" Erin whispered to herself, crawling towards the barn through piles of burning Redkites, "—with her dark magic."

Flanking Eight, the golems were creating massive casualties too. Hank's enormous fists smashed the plastic mannequins to pieces, throwing them into the air and tearing them clean in two. As his arms swung back and forth, his mighty fingers scored huge tracks across the flagstones, uprooting and crushing them against his opponents.

Shun darted nimbly through the battle, slipping behind his assailants and taking their heads off with a slim, elegant blade.

Spirals of glimmering white light escaped each mannequin as they fell.

Erin had found her way back to the barn door. Carefully, she retrieved the remaining PennyBombs from her dungarees and started launching them towards the battle. A PennyBomb exploded next to Eight's foot, knocking her off balance. She jumped sideways, finding her feet, an arm covering her boney eye sockets. Another exploded behind the scarecrow. Mannequin's seized the advantage and dealt swift blows against her shoulder and skull.

Erin tossed another PennyBomb towards a clutch of Redkites who had singled out a wounded mannequin. Exploding on impact, Number 85's jersey flared into life, the cap gun explosives ripped through his innards as the motor oil ignited and his gasoline head was shredded into a hundred pieces.

The flames quickly moved to the Redkites and mannequins closest to him, setting off a chain reaction that dissected both 11 and 47.

Erin smiled briefly, but her satisfaction quickly vanished. The rancid aroma of decay foliage evaded her nostrils.

"Clever girl," Tomas said, grabbing Erin's hand as she set herself for another volley.

Forcing her into the barn, Jack gathered the rest of the PennyBombs and carefully rolled them into the haybale fortress.

"Quite ingenious," Tomas added, lifting Erin into the hayloft.

She struggled for a moment, then laughed. "You've lost. The wickermen lasted minutes, the Redkites are all but defeated. You should surrender and beg for mercy."

"Surrender?" Tomas said. "The Patchwork Woman cannot be defeated. Her golems are making short work of your army. We shall be victorious. The Patchwork Woman will return us to human form, of that I have no doubt."

Jack said nothing. He didn't look as hopeful as his companion.

"The Patchwork Woman?" Erin scoffed. "She's nothing but a scarecrow. A scarecrow that I made with these hands. She doesn't have magic. She has won you over with terror and fear and nothing more."

"Not magic?" Tomas scoffed. "She leads the fight against your army with two swords, while her magic reaches out and crushes the souls of a dozen more."

Erin kicked away from the wickermen, her back pinned the barn wall. "It's not magic? It's— the dark spirits."

"Yes!" Tomas exploded. "The dolls heads. She's riddled with dark, evil spirits. The souls of BootHill— every murderer, thief, and psychopath— alive again in her!"

"Impossible," Erin rallied.

"She is no match for your pitiful little band," Tomas said cruelly, looking across the burning courtyard. "Especially without Twelve."

"Don't."

"One of your Redkite scarecrows exploded right next to her. Quite the mess."

Erin shook her head. "It's not my fault."

Jack couldn't look her in the eye.

Tomas was chuckling to himself. "Yes," he purred. "Twelve is gone. There's no-one left to help you now. It's just a matter of time."

A shadow descended over the three of them. Even up here, in the hayloft, it would take somebody incredibly tall to cast such a shadow.

"Twelve?" Erin said, peering hopefully around the two wickermen.

"Sadly not," said one voice.

"Someone else entirely," muttered another.

A third said, "But no less fearsome."

"We are many, yet we are as one."

Erin squealed as the scarecrow's battered basketball head came into focus.

"Number Five!"

The huge scarecrow snorted angrily, thrusting her long arms forward, taking Tomas and Jack by the neck and lifting them clean off the ground. She spun, skating across the barn, through the doors, and into the bowels of the fight.

Jumping to her feet, Erin followed.

Outside, Eight was laughing and screaming and hacking down mannequins with her wicked blades.

Five threw Jack and Tomas to the ground before her. They huddled together, fire dancing dangerously all around.

"Finally. An adversary worthy of my time," the skeleton yelled, dispatching another mannequin with the turn of her hand, two more dropping from the grip of her dark tentacles.

Jumping through the flames, Eight landed at Five's feet. She took a long, powerful swing, embedding her blade into Five's wooden arms. Eight yanked her sword, fiercely trying to retrieve the weapon. She spun deftly, relinquishing her grip on the hilt, and seizing Number 23. Kicking him towards Five, the disorientated Redkite tripped on a fiery log and fell, hands outstretched, face first into the ravaged bonfire.

Jack and Tomas clambered over one another, sprinting away from the burning Redkite like a ticking time-bomb.

Five took three large strides as 23 was torn to pieces by the resulting explosion. Flaming chunks of shrapnel struck the side of her swollen basketball head. She staggered sideways, teetering as if to fall.

Eight was upon her again. With both hands wrapped around the one remaining scimitar, Eight lashed at Five's body, lacerating her arms and legs, splitting the staples down the side of her basketball head wide open.

Five dropped to her knees, white light oozing from the wound like treacle.

Eight stood back, sneering victoriously. "The world is mine!" she screamed. "Nobody can defeat me."

Behind her, Hank raised a helpless mannequin in each of his massive hands and smashed their heads together. Eight looked beyond him, at Twelve's legless body. "I'm the one that's Immortal," she laughed. "I am the Everliving!"

Five burst forward, knocking the sword from Eight's hand. She slipped her shaking hands over Eight's shoulders and tore the embroidered cloak from her sister's plastic bones. Five spread her fingers and wedged them through the doll-infested ribcage, raising the skeleton towards her.

Eight slashed wildly at her sister's head, digging her skeletal fingers into the widening gash. "What are you doing? Let me go!" she ordered. "You are done. Fire will do the rest."

But Five did not listen. She lifted Eight, pulling her close, holding her sister in a deadly embrace. Eight's dark vapours coiled around them both, mixing with the white light growing in Five's head.

"What are you doing?" Eight screamed.

But Five was silent now.

Calm.

Moans and wails of anguish and torment from the thousands of voices in her head had all been swallowed. The light expanded, pouring through the vicious slice that Eight had inflicted. It grew, suffocating the dark tentacles, thinning them until no trace remained.

Eight screamed at her golems.

Hank and Shun turned, knocking mannequins aside as they stormed to her aid. But, in the glare of Five's ferocious light, they stopped, frozen, arms shielding their ruby eyes.

Five was shining, radiant and deadly, like a star waiting to go supernova.

"You are but a smattering of dark spirits. Treacherous and wicked," she whispered to Eight, their faces pressed together. "But I am a million. I am darkness and light. I am turmoil and conflict and rage. I am love and joy and hope."

Eight squirmed helplessly. Her grotesque dolls heads barked and wailed, gnawing on the scarecrow's plastic ribs, desperate to escape.

"You cannot resist me, sister."

Eight fought again, eager to be free of Five's deadly light.

"Help me, you fools!" she screamed. "I command you. Release me or my promises will be undone."

Nobody moved.

Not Jack or Tomas.

Not the last of the Redkites.

Nor Hank and Shun.

Five's light grew, turning through amber, gold, silver.

In a blinding flash, the world was washed clean. It felt as though somebody had opened a box of pure sunlight. Five shook as it poured from her body, expanding across the courtyard, swallowing up the bodies of fallen Redkites and mannequins. The golems began to degrade, melting where they stood. Hot, thick clay sloshed to the ground, running into the channels between upturned cobbles and broken flagstones.

Suddenly, a vertical beam of light shot up, puncturing the sky like a gigantic searchlight.

"It is time, sister," Five whispered.

Shaking in the opulence of the light, Eight hissed, "You're no sister of mine."

A shockwave erupted.

Erin shielded her eyes.

The light spread in every direction. It hurtled towards the shore, swarming around buildings, taking tree trunks and fallen Redkites, mannequins and the last traces of the golems with it. The light sped evenly across the water, thinning as it went, until all that remained was a pale glimmer on the waves.

Skeins of dark and white light marbled together, towering into the sky, spreading and fading beneath the star-filled sky.

Where Five and Eight had once been, there was nothing. No scarecrows. No basketball head. No vicious skeletal face, patchwork cloak, or horrifying dolls heads.

Nothing.

They were both utterly gone.