“You damn fool,” Dario hollered, and he swung wild with his other hand while keeping the injured one clutched to his chest. Arn pushed it aside, stepped in, and pounded his brother in the stomach. The gauntlet caved in the armor. The impact continued, rumbling his innards. Dario coughed, blood coming up with it. Still Arn was not done. Another hit, this to the face to make up for the damage to his ear. Arn pulled back his strength at the very last second, so he left only bruises instead of shattered bones. More hits followed, kicks and elbows without mercy. Arn beat flesh and muscle until all resistance fled.

  Dario collapsed onto his back. Blood dribbled across his chest to the cold floor where it combined with the larger puddle flowing from the mess that was his right hand. Arn stood over him, his shoulders rising and falling with his every breath. The rage of battle washed over him, screaming for him to finish the job. His own brother echoed the sentiment.

  “Kill me,” Dario said. He stared up at him with the white of one eye now solid red with blood. “Spare me the burden of witnessing your transgressions. Your future is empty. These sins. These heresies. They will eat you alive.”

  It would be so easy, wouldn’t it? End the life that haunted him. Dario had always been stronger, smarter, the proud rock to which Arn had been a shadow. He could smash that rock with a single blow to his heart. For once in his life, he could prove his older brother wrong through the undeniable truth of broken bones and spilled blood. He’d won, hadn’t he? Proven that these heathen gods were right, and the God-Incarnate false?

  Arn raised a fist. He looked past the hate in his brother’s eyes and saw the disappointment. The fear. Dario cared. He still cared. And Arn would be sending him into the bosom of the God-Incarnate for all eternity.

  Arn lowered his fist. Perhaps it was selfish. Perhaps it was cowardly. He’d killed countless men and women loyal to Everlorn. But not his brother. Not his brother. Arn’s metal gauntlets provided poor comfort, but he knelt low and cupped Dario’s head in one nonetheless. No matter the awkwardness, he let himself speak the honesty in his heart.

  “No,” he said. “You didn’t give up on me, Dario, and so I won’t give up on you. I don’t have your fancy words. I don’t have a mind fit for arguing. I only have what I have lived. While all of Vulnae burned, I saw a world of hope, of mercy, of forgiveness. It tore me apart. It ripped me open and made me see how ugly we are.”

  Arn bent closer. He felt a wave of tears coming, and he did not fight them.

  “It’s not too late for you to see that same world. There are true miracles that go far beyond destruction, fire, and the strength to win on the battlefield. Speak with Lioness. Meet with Velgyn. Hear their words. See what we’re taking from this world, and then turn away from it.”

  Dario grabbed that hand and flung it away. His entire body shook with the intensity of his words.

  “Your wisdom is hollow, and your grace a poison. Kill me. This will not go like you think it will.”

  Arn gently lowered his brother’s head and then stood. Doubts shrieked like gulls throughout his mind, but what other option remained? Amid all this death and despair, he had to hope.

  “I bear a thousand sins to my name,” he said. “But just maybe I can do this one thing right.”

  Arn left his brother lying there upon the stone, and he took in the dwindling battle. Soldiers fled every which way through tunnels leading presumably to the castle or the surrounding grounds. He saw no sign of the Lioness, nor Paladin, but Ax was busy gutting soldiers and looked to be in need of some help. He clacked his gauntlets together, knocking loose bits of the cloying blood spilled across their metal.

  Time to get back to the chaos.

  CHAPTER 46

  MARI

  Instinct ruled Mari’s every action. This was paradise to the Lion, a conflict of life and death in the forgotten arena of his past. She shredded flesh with wild fury. She was blood-drunk and delirious. Pleasure raced through her veins. Occasionally she would feel concern for friends, but it was rare and fleeting. This carnage, it felt righteous. Nothing would touch her, for she was the Lioness, the avatar of the Lion, and this was their home, their arena, their truth made new and wondrous and bloody.

  And then she saw Sinshei hiding in the far shadows, observing the battle but not partaking. A deep growl emanated from her throat.

  No mercy for the Anointed, she thought, and whether it was her belief or Endarius’s, she neither knew nor cared. She descended to the ground, sprinted along the edge of the arena, and then lunged with her forelegs extended. Her teeth bared, she shivered with excitement at the fear widening Sinshei’s eyes.

  The crack of a spear against her side sent Mari tumbling. She landed awkwardly on two legs, then twisted to face the paragon who barred her path to the Anointed One.

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk,” said Soma, and he wagged his finger at her as if she were a disobedient child. “Sinshei is off-limits.”

  “Do you think I fear you, paragon?” she asked, the gem of her word-lace flashing.

  “Truthfully?” he asked, and tilted his head to one side. “No. But I think you fear him.”

  His words were her only warning. Her wings curled inward and braced for the sudden impact. Their bones protected her more vulnerable flesh as claws raked across her side. She and her new attacker tumbled together along the benches, smashing their aged wood into splinters. Her hind legs raked across his muscled body, forcing a separation. They skidded apart, claws out, fangs bared.

  “I promised to taste your blood when next we met,” Rihim snarled. “And I have ever kept my promises.”

  “What promises did you make your followers in Antiev?” Mari asked. “Did you promise to be a slave to their conquerors?”

  The panther god lowered into a coiled stance, ready for a leap. His claws carved grooves into the weathered stone.

  “No more,” he said. “The hunter need hear no words from his prey.”

  “But which of us is the hunter, Humbled one?”

  He lunged. Mari pivoted sideways while lashing with her right wing. The sharp edge cut across his forearm and shoved him off course. The Humbled crashed into the seats, but he touched the ground for barely a heartbeat before he was in the air again. He sought another exchange of blows, but Mari was not there. Her paws thudded and her chest heaved as she dashed into one of the upper tunnels through which some of the onlookers had fled. She bashed two men aside, blood splattering from their heads when they hit the wall. Nothing would stop her. Nothing would slow her.

  Rihim caught up to her almost instantly, but he did not try to overtake her. They ran through the tunnel at a pace only gods could match. Rihim and Mari alternated who led, often amid tumbling, snarling exchanges. They nipped at each other’s heels. They roared amid the violent race. They ran without fear, seeking distance, seeking solitude. This fight would be theirs, and theirs alone.

  Starlight greeted her ahead, and she pushed onward with her wings curled tightly against her sides. She burst out into the castle courtyard and landed on soft grass. Her claws carved grooves as she pivoted about to face the tunnel exit. It bore no doors, just open space braced with wood supports. Freshly dug earth marked its recent discovery. How many years had this entrance gone unnoticed, hidden beneath the grass?

  She first saw the twin orbs of golden light that were Rihim’s eyes, and then the rest of him emerged in an explosion of movement and muscle. They rolled, nipping and clawing at each other, but the advantage was his, given his momentum. Mari scraped free, blood dripping from multiple wounds across her sides. She sprinted, instinct fully taking over. There was something about the chase that felt needed. It felt right.

  Mari’s divinely blessed claws easily sank into the bricks of the outer wall surrounding the castle grounds, so that she scaled its side with ease. A lone soldier holding a spear patrolled its top, and he turned around at the noise. He let out a baffled cry, which ended unfinished when her left wing slashed open his throat. She turned, wings up, teeth bared, for Rihim’s arrival.

  He didn’t bother climbing the wall. The strength of his legs was enough. He vaulted into the air with his arms spread wide and his claws shining like polished obsidian. This time Mari was better prepared, and she made the Humbled pay for his direct approach. The blades of her wings tore at his face and chest. Fur peeled back at the gashes to expose finely honed muscle. The wounds bled, but not much, for though Humbled he might be, he was still a god. It would take far more to slay him.

  His retaliation was swift. One strike bounced off the bone plate of her shoulder; the other sank into her side and dug in. She howled, and it was her turn for fur to rip. She twisted with teeth wide, and when he withdrew to avoid her latching onto his wrist, she dashed along the rampart. Her right wing cut a shallow groove along his chest as a parting measure.

  The dark stone was a blur beneath her paws. Her breath thundered in her ears. Two more soldiers kept patrol along the wall. One fled the moment he saw her. The other foolishly swung his sword at her face. She deflected it with the bone plate across her forehead and then bodied him with her shoulder. He tumbled over the edge headfirst, to an unpleasant landing given the distance and the weight of his armor.

  Even that slight delay was enough for Rihim to close the gap between them. She whimpered at the sudden pain from his claws raking her hind leg. Instead of turning she sprinted faster, refusing to acknowledge the damage. They were both blessed by divine strength. Endarius was with her. The Lion would grant the Lioness victory, but not here. She had to press what advantages she could.

  Speed. Balance on uneven ground. Her wings.

  The ramparts ended at barred doors leading into the castle keep, but Mari held no interest in returning to such tight conditions. Instead she leaped higher, to the rooftops. Back and forth, from pillars, statues, and balconies. Stone cracked with her every landing. Tiny bits of rubble fell dozens of feet to the ground below. She paid it no mind. Higher. She must go higher.

  “Would you flee to the moon itself?” Rihim howled. She landed atop a balcony, crouched for another leap, and then went nowhere as his hand closed about her ankle. Her body crashed back down, and then Rihim was upon her. Their combined weight shattered the banister, and they hung halfway over the broken edge. She curled instantly, for the slightest hesitation meant death. Her wings closed, their jagged ends tearing into Rihim’s rib cage. Her teeth sank into his arm just above the manacles, and she tasted divine blood on her tongue.

  Rihim endured it all, for he had her now. His other hand closed about her throat. His claws dug in, seeking her jugular. Mari bit harder, harder, trying to snap his bones in half. Blood spilled down her face and along his arm, a mixture of hers and his. She stabbed again and again with her wings, but he endured the strikes. Any wound was acceptable if it meant finally killing her.

  Darkness swam across her vision. All breathing ceased. In a panicked final attempt, she released her grip on his one arm and shifted her attention to the one about her throat. She coiled at the waist, bringing her hind legs up to scrape along the entire arm. Deep blue fur peeled away. Tendons tore. Rihim howled, and at last he let her go.

  Mari didn’t dare risk losing such an opening. Her head swam, her vision twisting and tilting awkwardly. She still had her plan. She leaped up to the sharply slanted rooftops of the highest portions of the castle. Higher. Higher. Up the decorative spires. Make the hunter chase her. Make him awkward and unsteady.

  “What do you hope to accomplish?” Rihim asked. His landings were far less gentle than hers. Shingles cracked and bent inward at his weight. “Your fight is hopeless, Ahlai daughter. You fight with the strength of a dead god, while I am very much alive.”

  “You draw breath, but you do not live,” Mari growled down at him. He leaped at her, and he crashed into the nearly vertical side of their current tower a half second too late. She clawed her way up the edge, to the curving point at the tower’s apex, and then turned to face him.

  “Must you hide like a cat in a tree?” he asked. He’d found a window and braced his weight on its open ledge. The arm she’d scraped raw hung limp at his side. Though his words were strong, she could tell he was more injured than he let on.

  “I do what I must,” she said. “I made my own vow, remember? It is the Lioness who will find victory.”

  “You will not find it atop this stone spire.”

  Mari closed her eyes. Her wings folded to her sides. She remembered the paintings of Endarius. She felt the brush of feathers kept by his followers, treasured keepsakes on chains and bracelets. With her form, she honored him as he had been in life, but also accepted the grim truth of him in death. It was her way, as it had always been since the very first time her father had shown her the gift of a god-whisperer.

  But there were many ways to honor a god, many faces, and many forms.

  “Come chase, hunter,” she said, and opened her eyes. “And I will show you your folly.”

  Mari vaulted off the high spire toward the other, shorter spire a hundred feet away. Rihim leaped after her, his trajectory instinctively chosen so he would intersect with her fall.

  Only she did not fall.

  Her wings spread wide like bat wings, the thin flesh catching the wind and holding her aloft. Mari flew over the skies of Vallessau, casting her shadow upon the city as the Lion had for so many centuries. A twist of her spine and she turned, spiraling like the falcon she once resembled in her time in Lahareed. Hunting the hunter. Seeking Rihim as he fell through the air, where his size and strength would serve him little.

  Mari struck him head-on. Her wings closed, their sharp ends sinking into either side of his neck. Her teeth found his abdomen, and she bit and tore into it as they careened toward the spire. Flesh made way. Ribs broke. Innards spilled.

  The pair smashed through the old stone like a missile. They landed atop wood stairs, which groaned and collapsed at their weight. Dust and rubble scattered around them as they fell, tumbling and bouncing to the very bottom of the tower. Mari went limp and endured the jarring hits. The battle was over. The damage was already done.

  She landed on all fours, her head low and her eyes closed. Slowly, steadily, she recovered her breath. Pain washed over her in waves, but it would pass. Her wings trembled, the skin connecting them already dissolving away like mist. What bones were broken, they would heal when she gave up the power of Endarius and returned to her mortal form.

  The same could not be said for Rihim.

  The panther god lay on his back, his legs twisted awkwardly beneath him. They lay so perfectly still she suspected his spine had snapped. His left arm was a mangled mess. His stomach was opened, exposing gore and intestines that spilled out before him like untangled ropes. That he breathed at all bespoke his divine nature. His golden eyes stared at her through the dust, their color already starting to fade. Blood spilled from his lips to stain the fur along his neck. His words were strained and wet.

  “Amees. Whisper her. Please. I beg of you.”

  Mari padded closer, and she licked blood off her face. The coppery taste sent shivers through her, and she fought off the rush.

  “Why?” she growled, relying on her word-lace to translate. Rihim reached for her with his good arm. His manacle rattled. Fanatic desire burned deep in his golden eyes.

  “Because I… because I won’t see her again. She told me. Not as I am. Not after the monster I became in these chains. Let me tell her goodbye before I suffer the hell the God-Incarnate prepares.”

  Mari paced a full circle around his dying body. Conflict battled within her. To show him pity. To condemn his murders. To merely walk away. This broken god deserved it all and more for the lives he took and the choices he had made.

  Her pacing halted. No, it did not matter what he deserved, but what she herself was willing to offer. This was her decision. Her wings curled inward. Her bones cracked as she dismissed the power of the Lion. She did not need Endarius, not for this. Her gray fur receded. Her fangs dulled. Rihim watched as he bled, and when she knelt naked at his side, he reached for her. Mari took his enormous hand into hers and held it to her breast as she gave her answer.

  “No.”

  Rihim’s eyes widened with desperate shock. “Why? Please. I beg you. I beg you!”

  She shook her head, her decision made. “You will give Amees no final words.”

  Whatever strength was left in his body drifted away as he slumped to the ground.

  “Then I am forever damned,” he said. A coughing fit took him. Blood splashed across them both. “My two last memories of her, they are of her corpse, and of her condemnation. How fitting. The empire’s hell, I have no need of it. I am already there.”

  Mari slowly brushed her hand over his forehead, her fingers curling up and over his right ear.

  “You will see her again,” she said. “You will walk beneath a sunless sky across fields of grass. You will embrace in a land free of our mortal strife. The trees will grow so tall they reach the heavens. The rivers shall run without ceasing, and time flow not at all. You will hunt, and love, and smile. Amees awaits you there in that everlasting land, I promise.”

  The color had drained from his eyes and tongue. She gently guided his hand back to his chest. He was so weak, he could offer no resistance.

  “You… don’t… know that.”

  Mari leaned over him. His divine strength was gone. There would be no tremendous explosion like when Lycaena had been sacrificed. Rihim’s followers were few and scattered, and what power he might have possessed, he relinquished much of it to the God-Incarnate through his stolen worship. It was the great price the Humbled paid to survive. Mari watched and waited. No final words, she had promised. He would speak no goodbyes, and offer no excuses, to his beloved. She would deny him that.

  The final words spoken between them, they would be hers.

  His body convulsed. His lungs hitched. No more blood. No more breath. Silently Mari spoke a name, and the power came to her instantly. She leaned closer and cupped Rihim’s face to force him to look up at her. Not a parting, as he desired, but the opposite. A greeting. An invitation.