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“Now magic is gone in all the lands but Tirene?” The voice rises in pitch, trembling with outrage. “Such inequities! The gods despair at the imbalance.”

I pause at a window to peer down at the crowd gathered around a thin man in a dark robe.

His arms wave wildly as he preaches to the growing audience. “The old ways are forgotten. The balance is broken. How can any kingdom survive when Tirene hoards magic?”

The crowd murmurs in response, some nodding, others shaking their heads and arguing. Even from this distance, the tension is palpable.

The warm hand Sterling places on my shoulder steadies me. “Don’t worry about him. People always find ways to blame others for their unhappiness.”

My chest feels tight, constricted by the weight of desperate decisions. Guilt writhes in my gut.

“What else were we to do?” I’m not really asking Sterling, but the universe itself. “Let Narc’s evil seep into the land? Let him and Xenon and the drachen take over and corrupt us all?”

Sterling says nothing. Probably because there’s no answer that doesn’t somehow taste of ash.

We continue walking, and eventually the city’s hum swallows the preacher’s voice. Every day, the fallout from our victory becomes clearer. People are growing more desperate. Angry. Scared. A world without magic, save for one kingdom, is a world fundamentally altered. The balance of power has shifted.

The patter of running feet breaks the quiet.

A woman in the simple gray, tunic-like dress of a temple acolyte races up the stairs, nearly tripping on the length of her drab garb. Her face, young and nondescript, is flushed with exertion, or maybe fear. Guards draw their swords, moving to intercept her, but she falls to her knees before they can reach her.

“Your Majesties!” The words are torn from her throat between desperate gulps of air.

Beside me, Sterling’s silver wings snap out, as if he’s preparing to take flight at the first mention of bad news.

Alarm needles my scalp as I release his hand and step forward. “What is it? What’s happened?”

The acolyte’s eyes are wide with terror, and her hands shake as she raises them in supplication. “The Victory Goddesses’ temple. The stone warrior statues. They’ve come alive!”

Agnar’s eyebrows nearly meet his hairline, disbelief plain on his handsome face. “Alive?”

The woman nods while drawing in ragged breaths. “They’re attacking people. The stone moves like flesh, but it’s impenetrable. Swords shatter against the warriors, and they feel no pain.” Her voice breaks. “Everyone is dying!”

The blood drains from my face. This is no coincidence. First the strange water that resists magic and transforms into diamonds, and now stone statues coming to life.

There must be a connection.

Horror floods my veins with ice water. Reaching into the pocket of my dress, I open the hidden slit, withdraw the short sword strapped beneath my gown, and expand my wings. “Agnar, assemble the guards. Have a few of them gather medical supplies and meet us at the Victory Goddesses’ temple.”

Time to defend our city against a brand-new threat.

I can only pray this one is easier to eliminate than the drachen.

Chapter Three

Less than fifteen minutes later, the Victory Goddesses’ temple rises from the horizon on the far side of capitol. The structure is just barely visible with the heightened eyesight I acquire when my wings are out.

As soon as I focus in, I wish I could retract my wings and clamp my now-golden eyes shut to block out the devastation.

Red streaks the white marble steps and walls, and debris litters the ground.

No, not debris. Carnage.

My heart pounds as I put on a burst of speed. Below us, people run around like scattered ants, the chilly winter air carrying their screams upward.

When I spot a massive entity moving within the crowd, my heart ceases beating entirely.

“Sterling!” I shout over the wind. “Look!”