From the shadowed depths of the chasm, the monster we had long feared finally emerged. Not knowing what to do, Arwa seized my hand with a desperate strength, her fingers as cold as the breath of the approaching night.

  And then, face to face, we stood before the old woman. Arwa’s face had drained of colour, utterly pale, as though the life within her had begun to wither.

  Before us loomed a creature as immense as the great lions of legend, yet far more dreadful. It was the largest living being I had ever seen. Its fur, a shifting canvas of grey and gold, was mottled with dark patches, as though the night sky itself had been scattered across its hide.

  But its most terrifying feature — the mark that made it a true harbinger of death — was its upper fangs: two vast blades of bone capable of rending flesh and ending a life within minutes.

  There was no doubt. This was the very creature Daneel had spoken of — the sabre-toothed cave lion of ancient times. If only I had asked him more, if only I had sought wisdom before setting out; perhaps then I might have found a way to escape this dreadful fate.

  But I possessed no such knowledge, and it was now too late to learn. Fear seized me, and though even time itself seemed to slow, it did not do so in my favour. Each second passed as though the world had grown sluggish, and yet death continued its steady approach.

  Then, in a sudden movement that stole my breath, Arwa released my hand and stepped before me, pushing me back. The gesture startled me, for it was made without the slightest hesitation. At once the beast turned its gaze upon her, its attention fixed. She was offering herself in my place, shielding me with her own life.

  I could never allow that.

  “Siri,” I called, my voice thick with desperation, “is there any way for us to escape this fate?”

  “When confronted with a sabre-toothed cave lion, it is advised that the host withdraw while the prey is engaged,” came the cold, mechanical reply, devoid of all humanity.

  Anger flared within me. “Siri, I refuse to leave anyone behind. Never give such advice again. Instead, find a way for both of us to survive.”

  “Understood. Your request is acknowledged. At present, no alternative solution is available.”

  Siri’s words brought no comfort. The hope within me dimmed, and the shadow of despair lengthened. Still, I knew I had to think. Think, Alek, think! I commanded myself. The answer lay within the question itself. How could we flee from the beast? Impossible. It was swifter than either of us and would surely overtake us. How could we defeat it?

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  No — the creature was far stronger than I could ever be. That was folly. Then how might we drive it away? Ah! That was a question worth asking. If only I could find the answer in time. But time was not on my side.

  The beast stirred, lowering its powerful forelegs, muscles tightening in preparation for the strike. Arwa did not move. She had accepted her end.

  “Damn it, Whaley,” I swore inwardly, and then — I found it!

  An illumination struck me like lightning. Lives were lost every day, but today would not be such a day. This was not our appointed hour.

  “Siri, search the databases for recordings of Whaley’s voice and transmit them directly into my mind. Let them repeat without cease.”

  “Command acknowledged,” Siri replied, and though her tone did not change, I could have sworn I detected the faintest trace of satisfaction.

  Whaley’s voice began to echo within my mind again and again, ancient and powerful in its rhythm. It was time to act.

  I moved swiftly to Arwa’s side and took her hand. With deliberate motion, I raised my right arm and guided her to do the same. The first step of my plan was taken; now came the second. I began to imitate the voice resounding within my thoughts, shaping my lips to its ancient cadence, drawing forth a sound as old as the mountains themselves.

  The cave lion hesitated.

  One cautious step forward, then another. Its roar fractured into uneven bursts of sound. It could not comprehend what it heard, nor could it withstand the power within it. Never before had I encountered a voice as terrible as Whaley’s — a voice laden with unspoken sorrow.

  “Forgive me, little cat,” I murmured, “but there are terrors in this world far greater than you.”

  Smiling, I turned to Arwa. Her eyes were wide, utterly spellbound by the sound I had conjured. For a moment, even she seemed afraid.

  The beast roared again, louder still, its fury mounting. I answered in kind, my voice weaving once more the dark melody — syllables without meaning or logic, and yet resonant with undeniable weight. Words unspoken yet known, carving grief into the very air.

  Ah, Whaley, what were you trying to tell me?

  And then, unbelievably, the creature bowed its head. Its fur bristled, and with one final leap it vanished back into the chasm from which it had come.

  We had prevailed.

  Arwa turned to me, her expression unreadable. She opened her mouth as though to speak, but the words knotted in her throat. Then, without hesitation, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms tightly around me. We remained thus for a while. At last she drew back, her hands still clasped about mine, her gaze meeting my own with silent understanding.

  Tears streamed from her eyes, and her voice trembled as she spoke.

  “The words that fell from your lips were like magic. Though I do not know their meaning, they awaken something within me. They remind me of my mother… of my father, long departed from this world. Now there is within me a sorrow as deep as the earth itself, and yet… and yet I find myself longing for something I have never before known.

  Tell me, child, from whence comes this mighty voice? In the name of Tarhun-Tata, who are you?”