Me and the others, of course, do as we’re told. The hairs on my coat stand on end as I feel the cool metal halves slide off the blade and onto my neck, the swords floating at the ready to seal them in. The bastard Prince himself approaches, starting with the mountain zebra off to my side. He takes both halves of the collar in his hooves, clasps them together around the zebra’s neck, and the blade melts the seams together in a matter of seconds, one after the other. All the while, Zabraxas looked him dead in the eye, never blinking.