On pulling them into the shadows, rather than the usual quiet, it's filled with the sound of fluttering paper -- like a flurry of pages being flicked through at once, loud enough to drown out all else.

When they emerge again, it's not into the edges of the village in the middle of the night ... but in the deep shadows cast by two trees whose branches have knotted tightly together, at the edge of a meadow riotous with flowers, perched on an overlook. Lambert stumbles heavily and catches himself on one of the trees, swearing as he shuts his eyes against the sudden brightness.

The boy is gone. Instead, they're looking down into a valley with a brightly-gleaming lake at the bottom, with the ruins of some sort of castle rising at one end. The whole place is bright with the fresh growth of spring, and there's nothing but wind and birdsong to be heard.