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Sadik climbed with insect limbs, glided with feathery wings, and landed upon the marble steps of the pantheon, sword at the ready.

In better times, the propylaeon would provide a grand entryway for any god returning from the city below—dressed stone walls, wide open stairs, a gateway composed of heavy lintels and marble columns. Now, it was a heap of ruined stone. The gateway had fallen upon itself, and the stairs had been shattered in several places, replacing the carved, white stone with the pale blue of an open sky.

Nothing moved. No gods arrived to repel the invasion. The only sound was a cold breeze rustling the leaves above the entryway. Farther beyond, sunlight glimmered amongst a tangle of swirling bark. Water flowed from a wooden stem, falling into the mouth of a broken fountain.

The land of the gods used to be pristine. Sacred. Now, it did not look much different than the ruins below Acheron, where Sadik had made his home. Would the pantheon be buried, as well? Why bury anything at all? What did Aldunya not want seen?

Sadik forced himself to stay calm.

Yasmin climbed down from his back, muttering a quiet thanks. The rest of his team crawled up the trunk of the Neheamatt, leaping onto the flat stone entryway—Amira anchored her greatbow, Kavaia and Xaeyr wiped the splinters from their fingers, and Zaria readied her poleaxe next to Isaac, both of the foreigners gasping at the high altitude air. Everyone untied their ropes.

“Sir," Amira said. “Positions?"

Sadik gazed over the ruins of the propylaeon, trying to peer into the courtyard beyond. Nothing moved. He did not like it.

“Miri," he said, “I want you in the leaves above. Minimal scouting—focus on overwatch."

Amira unfurled her wings, a wyrmkiller gently notched in her bow.

“Goddess, my lord," Sadik continued. “Both of you know the pantheon. You two will take point and provide direction."

Xaeyr flashed the light of his moon. Kavaia hefted Dawnstar into both hands.

“Zaria, keep an eye on our rear. Isaac, you and I will cover the sides."

The hyena cracked her neck. The human stretched his arms.

“Yasmin," Sadik said. “Stay in the middle. You'll be safest there. Follow all my commands. Do not hesitate."

The rat swallowed, her pink tail curling around a leg.

He tapped the small device clamped to his ear. The rest of the squad did the same, with Isaac and Zaria looking surprised when the previously inert metal began to hum and murmur.

“Testing, testing," Amira said. Her voice grew electronic in his ear. “This is Harpy. Peregrine, acknowledge."

“I read you, Harpy," Sadik replied. “Osprey, Kestrel, Vulture, respond."

There were many voices. Fingers lowered from ears.

“So," Yasmin said, “um, if—if there's an issue with signal strength, I can always—recalibrate. The radios. You know." She opened her palms. “Yes."

“Thank you, Yas," Sadik said, patting her shoulder.

She squeaked, looking at the floor.

“Keep a tight formation," Sadik said, bracing Dusksong at his side. “Move fast and stay low. We know little about the heavenly war, and which gods still follow Rushan. For now, our objective is to make contact with Lanir, goddess of truth and justice. Until then, assume every god is hostile."

The squad nodded. Behind them, the trunk of the Neheamatt continued to rise, impaling the sky like a spear impales a belly. They were standing on her branch, surrounded by her canopy, standing at the edge of a trunk that some believed could reach the stars. Leaves and bark swallowed the horizon. There was no escape from the sight.

Around the propylaeon, vines began to slither across branches and stems, like fingers reaching from the depths. There was a soft voice. Its words were lost to the wind.

It didn't matter.

“Let's go," Sadik said.

Kavaia and Xaeyr took the lead, marching through the walls and avoiding the holes in the stairs. When they reached the fallen gateway, the two gods began to heave the rubble with their hands, flinging blocks of stone that shook the ground when they landed. A narrow path was cleared in less than a minute.

“All the gods this strong?" Zaria asked.

“Yes," Sadik replied.

“. . . and we're plannin' to kill these cunts? With what? Harsh language?"

Sadik didn't answer. Yasmin rubbed her hands, trying to control her breathing. Xaeyr squeezed his way through the rubble, his moon casting shadows across the jagged stone, while Kavaia remained behind, making sure the mortals were able to follow safely. Amira climbed on top of the debris, leaped onto the face of a column, and began to scale her way toward the foliage above.

“Miri," Xaeyr said.

The human woman paused, her wings half unfurled.

Xaeyr hesitated. His broken moon spun faster. “Just . . . be careful."

Amira snorted.

“Please?" the baboon asked.

“Fine, fine." She smirked. “Worried, huh?"

Xaeyr conjured a drop of water and flung it at her lip. She made a show of licking it off. He cleared his throat, gestured awkwardly, and turned to the lead again.

They continued through a barren courtyard. Dry leaves littered the tiles, while statues of gods watched from shadowy alcoves. Above, a canopy of vines had turned a sickly brown, sagging along the columns and dripping a foul liquid onto the floor. There was a faint smell of death in the air. Rot and decay.

Sadik remembered how Aldunya had thrashed during his escape from the pantheon—spewing blight, lashing with vines, shaking the foundational branch so violently that many buildings had cracked and shattered. Now, walking through the halls again, the destruction still remained. Many of the porticos had collapsed. Cracks spun through the friezes and reliefs, and sections of the marble floor had been ground into little more than gravel. More than once, the floor had given way entirely, leaving only a thin sky below. Wind shrieked through the gaps.

Nothing moved. No allies, no foes. Sadik gave a hand gesture up toward Amira, who returned a negative from her perch atop a slanted roof. She saw nothing ahead. They were alone.

He didn't like it. He imagined Rushan's face. Obsidian and gold. Smeared with blood.

“Keep tight," Sadik said. “Watch the corners."

Isaac peered down an adjacent hall with fire bristling from his palms. Kavaia lit a shadowed garden with the light of her hammer.

As they moved further on, scorch marks began to blacken the walls. Dried blood appeared in slashes and pools. Soon, they saw swarms of dead insects splattered on the floor. Sadik thought of Casvian, goddess of flies. Shortly after, they found strands of crystal-like glass growing upon a phloem shoot, which could only be grown by Avthar, god of sand and glass.

Eventually, they turned a corner, coming across a colonnade completely covered in steel. From the narrow ceiling to the twin rows of columns, everything was buried in a dull, hardened grey. It clung to the stone like a thickened paste, like molten metal had flooded through the corridor and been left to cool.

“Volion," Xaeyr said.

Kavaia grunted in agreement.

The god of craftsmen. One of the few humans in the pantheon. He was capable of transmuting any object he touched into metal and stone. During his time in the Luminous Path, Sadik had witnessed Volion turn a banquet of grapes into a pile of copper balls. Once, in a flight of mischief, the human god had nearly killed the goddess of mining by lacing her wine with lead.

Sadik glanced at the steel around him. Everything had turned to metal. What would happen if the god of craftsmen touched flesh and blood?

“He might be an ally," Kavaia said. “An impish one, to be sure, but his heart is as golden as his touch."

Xaeyr shook his head, curling a lip.

“He was always a friend to me. One of the few I had."

“Kivie," the baboon said. “He was humiliating you."

Kavaia blinked. “No, that's. . . ."

“Didn't you notice how the others would laugh whenever you were together? How they always knew your secrets?"

The crocodile stared at a steel column, watching her reflection. A rumble came from her chest.

“Sorry," Xaeyr said. “I was never part of it."

“Utterly juvenile," Kavaia said.

“Immortals need to pass the time, I suppose."

Their radios crackled to life. “Heads up!" Amira hissed.

Far in the distance, a dragon flew above the gardens and rooftops—Lanir, goddess of truth and justice. Her aquamarine scales were bathed in flame, and her red eyes were visible against the flap of her scaly wings. She rose a fair distance into the air, clashing against the leaves and glowing bark of the Neheamatt's branches, before swooping down in a burst of speed, belching a stream of fire from her maw.

Lightning seared up in response. Lanir dodged the jagged bolts of electricity, continuing to spray the ground with flame. Soon, a cloud of black flies began to spread from the leaves below, like the Metal Plague belching its spores. The dragon's red eyes glowed bright. A wave of telepathy bashed into the swarm of insects, cleaving it like a hand through smoke.

More lightning shot from below. The flies regathered, spreading into pincers and waves. Lanir breathed a wall of flame into the air, taking as many insects as she could, then dove back down to the buildings below, disappearing from sight.

For a moment, the air was quiet. Sunlight reflected off the walls of steel.

“Hoi, monkey," Amira called, dangling off a branch. “You know where they are?"

“Ask me nicely," Xaeyr replied.

She made a gesture involving a hand, an arrow, and her crotch.

“The hippodrome," Kavaia said. “It's quite defensible. High walls, few entrances. If I had to wage war, it is the logical choice of defense."

Sadik remembered being dragged across the chariot racing grounds. Put on trial, nearly executed. He gripped his sword. “Take us there."

The two gods glanced at the steel colonnade around them, tracing the contours of metal, before continuing on. Footsteps clanged and echoed.

They ventured deeper into the pantheon, moving through the halls and chambers at a brisk pace. In a better time, the architecture would've been worthy of pause. Arcades littered every entrance. The ceilings were often vaulted, while the walls were carved with long, continuous bands of reliefs. Battles of legends, gods and demons.

Sadik barely noticed. He was focusing on the position of his squad. The morning sun had not yet risen above the height of the pantheon, and many of the halls were still drenched in shadow. Danger lurked in every passage.

Slowly, the foliage began to show signs of rot. The vascular tissue above—a snaking network of tendrils, shoots, and vines—dripped with a brown, viscous fluid. Sometimes, they would come across a fallen branch, dry and ashen white, like the husk of a fish long beached upon a shore. More than once, they saw a hall flooded with pus and blight, the liquid seeming to froth as it oozed and flowed.

They turned a corner. Rubble blocked the hall. A domicile for one of the gods had been shattered from the inside, spilling its walls and furniture into the adjoining corridor. Jagged stone piled to the ceiling.

“This is the only way," Xaeyr said.

To the side, there was a garden. It had been completely lost to rot. Bushes and vines sagged to the floor, vomiting a pool of brown sludge onto the grass. There had been a phloem jutting out from the floor, a place where the gods could drink from Aldunya's healing sap. Now, its bark was throbbing and distended, like a body wriggling with maggots. Something bulbous passed beneath the surface.

“Can you clear the rubble?" Sadik asked.

Kavaia hefted Dawnstar into both hands, raised the hammer high, and smashed it down with a savage strength. Stone crumbled into slabs. A dull roar echoed through the hall.

“Violence is rather cathartic," she said.

“Ain't it just," Zaria replied.

Xaeyr and Kavaia began to work in tandem—she cracked the larger pieces of rubble with her hammer, and he tossed the chunks of stone to the side, slowly clearing a path. While they worked, Sadik ordered Isaac and Zaria to watch the rear. He gave another hand gesture to Amira. From her perch atop a stone promenade, she glanced in every direction, eventually returning a negative. No contact.

He grit his teeth. A part of him yearned for combat. The silence crawled along his skin.

He began to pace behind the two gods, swinging Dusksong at his side. After glancing at the putrid garden again, he shifted his attention to the opposite wall, where a large relief had been carved into the marble. He saw depictions of gods fighting far below the surface. A swarm of demons lurched from the shadows, while a row of glowing swords and fiery bodies rose against them, bracing for impact. Above, the roots of a giant tree snaked through the earth, watching over all.

Sadik looked closer. Rushan stood at the head of the gods, with Ilios bright and radiant at his side. Fighting together. Brave, heroic.

Thimera's words echoed in his mind.

She had Ilios flayed to the bone, and Rushan accused of the crime. She had to cover her tracks.

Sadik pictured the statue of Rushan deep within the surface. Before it was ruined, he had a temple built to his honor. His glory in combat. People worshipped his prowess in fighting the enemies of Acheron. Hordes of demons.

Demons.

Something evil lurking beneath the earth.

“Goddess," Sadik said. “Tell me about the demons."

Kavaia paused, her radiant hammer poised overhead. He gestured to the relief. She lowered Dawnstar, walked to his side, and examined the carving, her thick tail swaying along the tiles.

“I . . . would not know." She grazed a thumb across several of the figures, as if remembering faces. Many of the gods were people Sadik only knew through legend. “As you can see, I did not participate. No one has ever carved my face—at least, not for posterity."

“This battle occurred centuries ago," Sadik said. “You were alive, then."

“Yes," Kavaia replied, “but I was the goddess of death, and my providence required a strict measure of neutrality. I was not to know any politics, any leaders or heroes. Death should not discriminate." She blinked. “I remember their return from the depths. There were feasts in the halls. Open celebration. I . . . shut myself away from it. Like I did for many things."

He craned his neck to meet her face. She continued to watch the relief, eyes roaming over the figures of old.

“My lord?" Sadik asked.

Xaeyr glanced at him while hefting a large chunk of stone to his chest. After throwing it aside, he took a moment to catch his breath, wiping dust off his furry brow. “What do you take me for, Sadik? Some old fossil like Kivie?"

“What's one century to another?"

The baboon snorted. “My apotheosis was decades later. The demons were already myth by the time I was born."

“Well, surely—"

“Sadik," Xaeyr said. “I am the god of cataracts. I fling water at people. Do you think I have found much glory doing that?"

“. . . point taken, my lord."

He looked at the relief once more. Rushan and Ilios stood at the head of a divine army. They were depicted with attention and care, with the eye being drawn to golden streaks and radiant feathers. The demons, however, were left in shadow, giving only the faintest impression of a monstrous form. Eyes, teeth, and claws.

Indistinct. Like so much else in the past.

“There must be something," Sadik said. “The demons were said to be shapeshifters. They spilled from the earth in an endless tide. When we made our base in the sewers, all of us worried that we would disturb them with our presence. And, yet, we've seen nothing."

“Perhaps they don't exist," Isaac offered.

Sadik glanced at Isaac. The human was looking over his shoulder at the relief, his hands still bristling with flame.

“A question for you, Sadik," he continued. “You say these 'demons' come from deep within the earth."

“Yes."

“The same location where your holy tree has buried sections of the city. She has done this so many times that the layers of ruin stretch for quite a distance."

“. . . yes?"

“You told me that Aldunya is likely to bury the city again, for all the calamities befalling it."

“I would hope not, but—"

“And," Isaac said, “these 'demons' are said to be shapeshifters. They can do, at will, what all of you can do with the magic of Glimmer. Grow and twist into whatever form the imagination allows."

Sadik blinked.

Isaac shifted his attention from the relief to Sadik, his blond hair falling above his eyes. “Does none of that sound suspicious?"

A flash of realization came to Sadik, in about the same way that his sword had come to the necks of criminals and traitors. A single cleaving blow.

“The Metal Plague?" he asked.

His words echoed along the corridor. Suddenly, a quake rumbled through the floor, as if the branch beneath the pantheon had shuddered. Beside them, across a garden swallowed by rot and decay, foliage began to crawl. Leaves rustled together. A breeze whispered through the hall.

Rushan's voice, once again.

See how she squirms. Do you feel her fear?

“Aldunya listens," Kavaia said, her dress swaying in the wind. “Choose your words with care."

“Why?" Isaac asked. “If there is nothing to hide, why silence any dissent?"

Ilios hanging in the air. Flayed skin, drying blood. The falcon was standing right there on the relief, battling the forces of evil with Rushan. He had been one of the few gods who had lived to witness the demonic invasion. Now, he was dead.

Sadik tried to control his breathing.

“Isaac," Zaria said. “How is it I'm told off for bein' mean, yet you can spit blasphemy and be all dandy?"

“Well, Z, it's quite simple. When you are rude, it's insulting. When I am rude, it tears down entire cultures."

“Oh, so I'm just bad at it?"

“Yes, actually."

She swiped him with a paw. He turned his fiery hands in her direction. When she growled, he let the flames die in his palms, attempting to look apologetic.

Sadik barely noticed. His mind was racing. If the Metal Plague had risen before, what else had occurred in the past? He knew of other revolutions. Barbarian invasions. Famine, disease, recession. It was only history to him. Things he could recall, but not remember. He was beginning to understand the difference.

What, exactly, was lying at the bottom of the Foundations? And why was the Metal Plague concentrating its efforts there?

He had always been a faithful man. He had bowed to the Vizier. He had worshipped the gods. He had often gazed upon the trunk of the Neheamatt, rising imperiously toward the stars, and been comforted by her presence. Everything in his life, he had done with a feeling of certainty.

That feeling was gone now. Faith had been replaced with questions. The questions were starting to gnaw.

“Kavaia," Xaeyr said, heaving more rubble. “Are you going to help?"

The crocodile straightened, clearly pulled out of her thoughts. She glanced down at Sadik. Words danced across her maw.

“Goddess?" he asked.

Her eyes fell on the rotten garden. “Later," she said, returning to the pile of debris.

The two gods began to focus on clearing a path. Sadik continued to pace back and forth, still staring up at the relief. After a moment, he sighed, tapping the radio in his ear. “Miri? Contact?"

“Nothing, sir." In the distance, he saw her stretch her muscular back. “Dry as a salt flat."

Isaac and Zaria returned to watching the rear. Yasmin tried to avoid as much notice as possible. Sadik ended up resting Dusksong's broken end on the floor, closing his eyes and concentrating on his breathing. His tattoos glimmered with the beating of his heart.

Soon, Kavaia smashed the last of the debris in their path. Xaeyr quickly pulled the loose chunks aside. A valley had been cleared in the pile, which was just large enough for a god to squeeze through. Ordinary mortals could walk in single-file.

Sadik waited for the rest of his squad to pass through the gap. He almost followed. Instead, something caught his eye.

Behind them, across the length of an empty hall, foliage slithered across the stone. It emerged from chambers, spilled from doorways, crawled from the broken walls and gaping holes. Slowly, the vines and leaves began to rise into the air, wrapping themselves together. A wall formed across the width of the hall. It sealed off any retreat. Twisting, writhing.

Sadik felt a presence upon his skin. The weight of someone's vision. It seemed impossibly heavy, like the walls were leaning over, ready to crush him like a beetle beneath a heel.

A voice began to whisper. It was wordless. Ancient beyond reckoning.

“What have you done?" Sadik asked.

Vines twisted against the columns. A gust of wind blasted through the hall, cold and sharp. The stone at his feet began to tremble.

Kavaia's tail emerged from the gap in the rubble. With a clumsy strength, she raised the appendage, wrapped it across Sadik's hip, and pulled him away. He stumbled into her thigh. She lowered her hammer and pressed a hand to his chest, forming a shield.

Roots bristled. The wind seemed to hiss.

“We are your allies," the crocodile said. “The few you have left."

The wordless voice intensified. It felt like the moment before a storm, when the air was heavy and pulsing, waiting for the flood to break.

“Do what you will," Kavaia said. “If we have squandered your blessing, then, please, strip me of divinity. It will not be missed."

She turned away from the wall of vines, pushing Sadik the rest of the way through the rubble. Her hand brushed against his cheek as it rose back to her hammer. Once clear, the goddess of death continued on, marching through the hall with a steady gaze. Slowly, the rest of the squad fell into position behind her.

Aldunya watched them leave. The air felt heavy. When Sadik looked back, the vines were beginning to retreat back into the shadows. A xylem gurgled with water. Bark swirled and glowed.

A gust of wind blew across his ear. Even if Sadik could not understand her voice, he could feel the emotions as clearly as the tattoos upon his skin.

Anger. Betrayal. A promise of wrath.

Somewhere below, there was fear. Desperation. Something close to begging.

Through it all, he heard pain. Agonizing pain. It was a pain that swallowed every thought, driving even the noblest of gods into madness. Physical pain. Guilt. A bleeding of the soul.

He knew these feelings quite well. It seemed the god of gods was not much different than the people she ruled.

The whisper died. Aldunya's stare remained. Sadik continued to watch her vines and stems as his squad approached a junction in the hall. In the end, he turned his gaze away, taking the corner without response.

They moved through the corridors. Xaeyr lit the shadows with his moon. Isaac and Zaria kept an eye on their flanks. Yasmin watched the statues and friezes, as if they would soon come to life.

Soon, the sounds of battle began to approach. Beneath the yells and rumbling, Sadik heard a number of divine powers—the buzzing of insects, the crackle of flame, the shattering of glass, the great ripping tear of a branch being smashed into splinters. It sounded like chaos. A wild, swinging melee. He could only imagine the devastation.

His radio crackled to life.

“Hoi!" Amira shouted. “Form up!"

The human woman used her wings to glide down from a promenade. Beyond, the high walls of the hippodrome loomed above the rooftops, the stone scorched and cracking. In the distance, Lanir flew above the stadium, her flaming scales bright against the leaves. Several avian gods flew in pursuit.

“There's a garden ahead," Amira said. “Someone's waiting for us."

“Who?" Xaeyr asked. “Another god? More plague?"

Amira focused her gaze on Sadik. Over the decades, he had become familiar with her expressions. A chill ran through his spine.

“Truly?" Sadik asked. “Here?"

“Oh, yeah," Amira replied. “It's her. Burns and all."

“Who?" Isaac asked.

Sadik gripped the haft of his sword. Dusksong's runes smoldered into a bright, searing light.

“Sir," Amira said, her voice low and warning.

Sadik blew a sharp breath through his nose. “I know."

“Said you were sorry for bein' a fucking juban. Said you'd be better." Her double-pupiled eyes grew hard. “Gonna put those words to action?"

He looked ahead. The hallway ended in a large doorway. On the other side, there was a colonnade stretching ahead, filled with dozens of columns and painted arches. Sunlight reflected off the marble tiles. He could see the edges of greenery beyond. Flowing water, a tangle of phloem shoots.

She had chosen a garden. Of course. It was another reminder of their past. Another twist of the knife.

Beneath his bronze armor, a rage burned in his heart.

“Yes," Sadik replied. “I will be better."

Amira made a noise in her throat. Xaeyr, Isaac and Zaria all raised a brow, while realization dawned on Yasmin and Kavaia. The rat placed a pink hand on his arm. The crocodile rested the haft of her hammer on the floor, shifting on her feet.

“It's a trap," Sadik said. “With Kohav Yaran destroyed, I doubt she has been able to modify herself, but it's possible some of her clones survived. Expect an ambush."

“Sadik," Isaac asked. “Do you care to explain?"

He focused on the doorway. The garden ahead.

“Can't we just go 'round?" Zaria asked, gesturing the way they came. “Rather not stick my cock in a thorn bush, if we got the option."

“This is the best way ahead," Xaeyr replied. “We'd have to retreat quite a distance, and that might cost us the war. Acheron cannot suffer another curse." His shattered moon spun above his head. “Fuck running away, and fuck whoever this is. I came here to fight. No one is stopping me."

“A-fucking-men," Amira said.

Sadik glanced at the faces of his squad. Most returned a nod. When his eyes rose up to Kavaia, he found her watching him with concern. His tattoos were smoldering along his neck, and he could feel an old scowl carving its way through his face, lit by the blade of a broken sword.

He took a breath. When he looked at her again, his gaze was focused. Kavaia raised her chin, pounded her chest with a fist, and lifted the glowing heads of her warhammer.

He walked through the hall. Six souls followed at his back.

Ahead, through columns and shade, Faustine waited in the center of a garden, surrounded by flowers, leaves, and sun.