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They don’t know they’re about to witness not just a battle, but a rebellion. Not just a match, but a revelation that will shake the foundations of their faith.

My eyes slide shut, and I summon every scrap of courage I possess. I think of Sterling, of his steady presence beside me through every impossible situation we’ve faced. I think of my sister, who’s been the dearest—and often only—friend I’ve had. I think of Bastian, the sibling I didn’t know I needed and the best brother anyone could ask for. I think of Agnar, of the way he’s stood by me without question, even during Sterling’s corruption.

I think of little Rose, so young and full of life. I think of our friends, our allies, scattered throughout the arena in strategic positions, ready to play their parts in what’s to come. I think of Tirene, my kingdom, and all the people who depend on me to protect them.

I think of the future that hangs in the balance. A world free from divine predation, where humans determine their own fate without gods feeding on their devotion like parasites.

When I open my eyes again, the fear is still present. I’d be a fool not to be afraid. But it’s been pushed to the background, overtaken by determination. This is what Sterling and I have been working toward since we unveiled the truth. This is what all our planning, all our secret meetings, all our careful preparations have been leading to.

A deep, resonant gong cuts through the noise of the crowd.

My cue.

This is it. Ten minutes until the Champions Match begins. And with it, our rebellion against the heavens.

Chapter Fifty-Two

The leather strap bites into my palm as I wrench it tight, securing the last piece of my armor. My hands should be cold with fear, but I only notice a strange numbness. Like my body already comprehends it’s moving toward something far beyond normal.

Outside the tent’s canvas walls, a wave of excitement swells. Thousands of eager people chatter, all here to watch me kill my wife or die trying.

Icy wrath flows through me, cold and relentless.

If the gods or anyone gathered here to view this shit show thinks I’ll harm a hair on Lark’s head for the “good of humanity,” they’re delusional. Over and over, she’s chosen me, chosen to love me. She’s accepted every part of me, good and bad. Forgiven me when anyone else would have left.

If any god so much as lays a finger on Lark, I’ll destroy them. Every. Fucking. One.

She’s the woman I love more than life itself. I need her more than the air I breathe and the water I wield.

She’s mine.

A ripple disturbs the air beside me, like heat over stone. I don’t have to glance up. I’ve been expecting this visit.

“Ready to make history, my champion?” Rivlan’s voice carries the casual confidence of a being who’s watched civilizations rise and fall like tides.

I continue adjusting my chest plate, testing its weight against my wings. “What do you think?”

“Touchy today, I see.” The elemental god’s form solidifies enough to cast a faint shadow across the tent floor. His appearance is more settled today, less fluid than usual. A calculated choice, I’m sure, to seem more relatable. More trustworthy.

I stay silent, because what is there to say? If Rivlan really thinks I’m about to fight my own wife, he’s an idiot.

His attention shifts to the open flap of my tent, where sunlight cuts a bright rectangle into the dim interior. The noise of the crowd swells, rolling in like waves against a cliff. “Quite a mortal crowd gathering.”

A song breaks out somewhere in the stands and is quickly taken up by hundreds of voices. A wedding song, ironically. For a new husband who is about to face his wife on the battlefield.

“Yes.” I yank another leather strap tight enough to leave marks on my skin. The pain helps center me. “We invited them.”

Rivlan spins toward me, his watery form losing cohesion before snapping back into human shape. “You…fool.” The word spills from him like poison. “That only serves Zeru. We discussed this. Keeping the match contained. Limiting witnesses⁠—”

“Why?” I finally look up, locking my gaze on him. “Why was that so important?”

Rivlan’s form swirls, but he offers no reply.

The silence stretches between us, marked only by the distant roars of the crowd as another dignitary is announced. I can almost see him calculating, weighing how much to reveal, how much to conceal.

I turn away to reach for the shield leaning against a wooden chest. It’s beautifully crafted, inlaid with silver that matches my wings. A weapon created for spectacle as much as protection.

“Those diamonds you gave us as a wedding gift…” I run my fingers along the shield’s edge, testing its sharpness. “They need to stay cold, don’t they?”