But Grub was not about to take a hint.

‘I remember it well,’ he began melodramatically. ‘It was a dark night.’

And, as though his very words carried immeasurable magic, every light in the city went out.

Not only that, but the magnastrip’s power failed, leaving them stranded in the middle lane of a frozen highway.

‘I didn’t do that, did I?’ whispered Grub.

Holly didn’t answer, already halfway out of the wagon door.

Overhead, the sun strips that replicated surface light were fading to black.

In the last moments of half-light Holly squinted towards the Northern

Tunnel and, sure enough, the door was sliding down, emergency lights revolving along its lower edge. Sixty metres of solid steel separating Haven from the outside world. Similar doors were dropping at strategic arches all over the city. Lockdown. There were only three reasons why the Council would initiate a city-wide lockdown: flood, quarantine, or discovery by the humans.

Holly looked around her. Nobody was drowning; nobody was sick.

So the Mud People were coming. Finally, every fairy’s worst nightmare was coming true.

Emergency lights flickered on overhead, the sun strips’ soft white glow replaced by an eerie orange. Official vehicles would receive a burst of power from the magnastrip, enough to get them to the nearest depot.

Ordinary citizens were not so lucky; they would have to walk.

Hundreds stumbled from their automobiles, too scared to pro test. That would come later.

‘Captain Short! Holly!’

It was Grub. No doubt he would be lodging a complaint with someone.

‘Corporal,’ she said, turning back to the vehicle. ‘This is no time for panic. We need to set an example. .’

The lecture petered out in her throat when she saw what was happening to the wagon.