Beowulf, rushing in headfirst to fell a demon. Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. If that’s the case, then keep your guard up.

[There’s a feeling — a ripple, really, shuddering through the mirror world. The touch of magic, aggressive, searching for something. For that little stone around Stephen’s neck, for his Servant, or maybe both. It’s hard to say, but Stephen stops in his tracks.]

Hold on. Do you feel that?