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All I can do is gape at him, uncomprehending.

Did he just…help us?

The Guardian, staunchest defender of the gods, Zeru’s most loyal servant?

He meets my gaze, his starry eyes unreadable. “Yes, Queen Lark, I am helping you. For now.” He surveys the battlefield, his expression hardening. “The situation has…evolved.”

Another crack—the loudest yet—booms from above. Trees shake. Clouds form and dissipate. A rainbow sprouts and disappears as quickly as it arrives.

The creatures surrounding us pause again, as if receiving new instructions.

“The portals are unattended. Unfocused. You will see things humans were never meant to see.” The Guardian lifts his hand, and by magic, his lance is clasped within his fingers once again. “Were never supposed to find in the mortal realm. And most of them will hunger for your flesh. For any physical flesh.”

I don’t understand what he means, but there’s no time to ask.

Sterling somehow raises his glaive. “To me!”

The stunned humans rush toward the only hope of survival left.

We gather in the center of the arena. Mortals and now two guardians.

Even with his help, we’re outnumbered and outpowered. Already exhausted and burned out.

Swarming from all sides, the new creatures attack with renewed ferocity.

The Guardian wades into the thicket of monstrosities, his glowing sword cutting through divine skin as if it were nothing but parchment.

I fight mechanically now, my body operating on instinct rather than conscious thought. My fire comes in weak, sputtering bursts, barely hot enough to singe the monsters’ hides. Each time I call on my magic, the response is weaker, the well of my power nearly dry.

A bugle splits the air, and I could weep with relief at the sound.

The dragons have returned.

In moments, they appear, already tearing through the creatures with brutal savagery.

For every beast we destroy, though, two more materialize from the rifts that continue to open around the arena’s perimeter. A never-ending horde of monsters.

A barbed appendage penetrates Sterling’s defenses and slashes across his torso. The blow should kill him.

He staggers but doesn’t fall, tumbling forward with a defiant roar. Blood streams from the wound. His flickering ice blade, though nearly transparent, is still sharp enough to sever the creature’s attacking limb.

But he can’t keep this up.

None of us can.

Our eyes—Sterling’s and mine— meet across the chaos, and a moment of terrible clarity passes between us.

We’ve failed.

Revealing the truth about the gods wasn’t enough. Their power runs too deep. The creatures they’ve set against us are too strong, too numerous.

I’m sorry, I mouth.

I will him to understand everything I don’t have the strength or time to say. Sorry for not being enough, for not saving them, for the future we’ll never have.

Our merge has collapsed completely. I can no longer feel him in my mind. We’re isolated in our own exhaustion and despair.

I gather the last remnants of my energy, forcing my fire blade to reform one final time. If this is the end, I’ll go down fighting. For Sterling. For our friends. For the hatchlings. For the dragons circling desperately overhead. For Leesa’s unborn child. For Tirene. For everyone.