She's turning her face away from him, biting her lip bloody as the light sears through her flesh, corrosive. She doesn't really have the breath to reply, striking at him again and again and again with knives that come from nowhere: flat silver knives and knives that are blood-slick and twisted in shape.

The rest of the water in the cave is boiling now, black threading through it from the cave walls and the ship; the agitated rainbows on the walls are changing colour.