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That kindling of hope flickers in my chest.

With gods fighting alongside us, we might actually stand a chance. This crazy, desperate gamble might pay off after all.

Thank you.

The prayer slips out reflexively, and a sudden realization hits me. We can bolster the gods on our side by praying to them.

I start with the prayer I learned as a child. “Praise Rivlan, God of Water, Source of Life.”

Next to me, Rivlan’s waters run faster.

Lark catches on, lips moving as she murmurs a prayer to Ziva. The others follow suit.

Our powers amplify.

Devotion pours from each of us.

The creatures fall back, cowering in the face of our revival.

In the stands, Zeru rises to his full height, his form oscillating between human and something far more terrible, far more alien.

Silent explosions of stars burst around him. The creatures on the arena floor respond to his rage, their attacks becoming more coordinated and brutal. “Advance! Kill the heretics!”

The beasts surge forward in a wave of chitinous limbs and gaping maws. Even with the rebel gods fighting alongside us, we’re forced back step-by-step. Our connection starts to weaken. The merge can only hold for so long.

Rafe falls out first.

The merge breaks, then reforms as the remaining people reach out again.

Rivlan pivots toward me, his watery features troubled. “Something’s wrong. The balance is shifting.”

I spear another beast that leaps toward us. “What do you mean?”

“Zeru is pulling on more power than should be possible.” Rivlan’s form ripples as if he’s trying to discern the problem. “No. That’s not him. It’s from something beyond⁠—”

He vanishes.

Simply gone between one heartbeat and the next.

I stare at the empty space where he stood, my mind refusing to process what my eyes are communicating.

Then Ziva disappears, mid-swing, her fiery weapon clattering to the ground before dissolving into embers.

Nyc and Mar follow.

The same phenomenon spreads through the stands like a wave. Zeru goes first. Then the gods who remain. All gone in an instant, like smoke before a windstorm.

The arena falls silent, everyone, mortal and monster alike, frozen in disbelief.

“What the fuck?” Agnar breaks the quiet, his voice carrying across the sudden stillness. “I was just getting my third wind!”

His outburst releases the tension. The crowd in the stands erupts into panicked conversation, nobles and commoners gesturing to the empty spaces where gods had been seconds before. On the arena floor, the creatures, baffled by their masters’ disappearances, become erratic and uncoordinated.

Lark appears at my side, her eyes bewildered. “What just happened? Should⁠—?”

Before she can finish, one of the larger beasts, a thing with too many limbs and a mouth that could swallow me whole, regains its purpose and charges.

“We keep fighting.” I push through the fatigue seeping into my bones and threatening to overwhelm me. “Because they are.” Pulling deep on my guardian magic, I strengthen the merge.