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She’s right. We needed to trick Xenon into giving us permission before we could cleanse the soil of Narc’s corruption.

The tension in the chamber rises.

“Ah yes, the Tirenese queen.” The Guardian’s armor flickers like fire as he shifts his attention to Lark. “Your recent victory over Narc has given you an inflated sense of importance. That law is for humans, not gods. You know nothing about what is unfolding.”

“No shit. That’s why we’re here.” Agnar sweeps his arm out, gesturing to whatever the hells it is we’re standing in. “To learn about what’s ‘unfolding.’”

Though part of me wants to shut Agnar up for taunting a powerful being that could blast us into next week if he wanted to, another wants to congratulate him for giving the Guardian shit.

Arrogant fuck.

The Guardian considers Agnar for a heartbeat, and then dismisses him with a flick of his fingers.

I hurry to reclaim the conversation. “Enlighten us. What exactly is transpiring?”

The entity inches closer, his armor shimmering in patterns that hurt my eyes when I stare directly. The magic surrounding him brushes my senses like hoarfrost freezing through my skin.

“You mortals. So eager to insert yourselves into matters beyond your comprehension.” His gaze settles on me, holding my attention for a second too long. A spark of recognition flares in his eyes that I don’t understand. “If you’re so fed up with the gods, stop giving them so much power, and they won’t have so much power.”

“Please answer our questions.” The strain in Lark’s voice indicates she’s clinging to politeness by a thread. “You have our word that our intentions are honorable.”

A beat passes. “Very well. You have three questions. I suggest you use them wisely.”

“And we get three answers?”

Lark reaches over me and slaps a hand over Agnar’s mouth as soon as the query tumbles from his lips.

The Guardian’s eyes narrow ever so slightly, but otherwise, he ignores Agnar, dismissing him as though he’s spoken to the air itself.

I glare at my impulsive friend. So help me, if that counted as a question⁠—

Another boom rocks the cavern, vibrating through my boots and rattling my spine. The noise has gotten closer, more forceful.

Something’s happening on the other side of that portal. Something important.

I flex my fingers and widen my stance. Here goes nothing. “What is that sound?”

The Guardian’s expression remains bland, as though he has little interest in this conversation. “Echoes. Negotiations.”

“Now see, that’s not an answer.” Agnar crosses his arms over his chest as I turn to toss another glare at him. Lark’s hand shoots out, ready to cover his mouth again if necessary.

“You want to know? You only think you want to know.” This time, the Guardian smiles. The act is beautiful in a terrible way, like watching an avalanche begin its descent. “It is war.”

The ensuing silence brims with trepidation.

In my mind, the pieces click into place, connecting disparate facts like a battle map coming into focus.

A divine war.

Of course.

The corrupted temples, the garbled messages, the strange attacks. All of it makes sense now. Not messages…a war.

Lark edges around me until she’s standing by my side. “A war between the gods.” Her eyes dart around the cave, as if she believes deities lurk in the shadows.

The Guardian’s gaze slides to her. “The kind that corrupts temples, shifts lands, and draws sailors to harpy-infested shores.”

So he does realize what’s been happening. Even though he’s standing at the door to the gods’ realm. What else does he know about our struggles, our plans?