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His tattoos were already gone.

They had begun to fade inside the imitation city, as slow as wax dripping down a candle—a vine sagging here, a thorn sharpening there. By the time he made camp inside the brain, the garden on his skin was little more than an empty meadow, smattered with grass and half-rotten leaves. Now, standing upon the shore of a bloody ocean, Sadik looked down at his arms, and he could not find a single trace of the Luminous Path.

One arm was made of flesh, clean and bare. The other was an amalgamation of metal, twisted and rough.

Both worked equally well.

Ahead, in the distance, the base of a tree impaled the world. Cerulean light covered the bark in a towering wall, as rigid as a shield, and tree roots snaked from either side, loping through the rocky walls. Before them, an ocean of blood sloshed with a lazy tide, forming a scum of coagulation whenever the waves crashed upon the shore. The cavern itself was massive, sprawling, yawning into distance. He could not see its end.

The plague.

Aleph.

Sadik grimaced.

Aleph was launching an assault upon the tree. Shapes crawled across the waves of the bloody ocean, emerging onto the scarlet muck of the beach. Unlike before, the infected were no longer a chaos of flesh—in fact, as Sadik watched, they reminded him of the soldiers under his command. They moved on strengthened legs, fought with lengthened arms, using shields of calcified bone and spears of crackling energy.

Here, on the opposite side of the blood, a regiment of soldiers stood at attention. They had been waiting for his arrival. When he had emerged from the brain, a wave of salutes had passed through the lines. He had marched along the head of the formation, inspecting their gear and counting their number. Now, he stood on the edge of the beach, feeling the gentle lap of blood against his sandals. He watched the battle between Calisto and Aleph with a practiced calm.

In truth, he didn’t care about his tattoos. They had become something like a stain upon his skin. Maybe, in the future, he would find a different symbol to carry, if he wanted to carry one at all.

For now, their mission was to enter the tree.

“Check the sky,” Amira said.

On the beach, a cloud of Mezlat swarmed through the air, each of the drones raining down a storm of sunbeams. As they emerged from the ocean, infected soldiers were lanced into chunks, falling back into the waves. Several bodies exploded with steam.

“Exalted on the roots,” Sadik said.

Around the trunk of the tree, hundreds of taproots spread into the surrounding earth, each of them as wide as a city street. Masses squirmed against their length. Splatters of flesh, stalks of mushrooms. At this distance, the Exalted were only visible as a brief shimmer in the air, like flies buzzing on a corpse.

“Right.” Amira turned to him, her bow arm glowing blue. “The big tree. Hostile?”

“Nominally,” Sadik said.

“That a yes?”

“She will be friendly until provoked.”

“Kickin’ in her door ain’t quite friendly of us.”

“I would agree.”

“So, hostile?”

“Yes.”

On his other side, Kavaia gazed upon the wall of cerulean light, tracking it up the length of the tree. It was the main source of illumination in the cavern, like a sliver of sky glimpsed between the walls of a canyon. “It seems, for now, we only have one enemy in this battle.”

Xaeyr cracked his fists.

“If Rushan is present,” Lanir said, “he is not yet visible. I would assume he’s found some means of crossing the ocean.”

“Never mind ol’ dog cock,” Amira replied. “He’s a secondary. For now, we focus on the tree.”

Sadik folded his arms, feeling the stares of the soldiers at his back. Spear light reflected on his armor. He would need to address them soon.

“Sir.” Amira lowered her voice, speaking softly. “Your protégé. Faust.”

Sadik did not answer.

“You got a standin’ order?”

“Assume hostile. Fire at will.”

Amira nodded, checking the arrow that shunted from her palm. “How we doin’ this?”

“We have to skirt the beach,” Sadik said, gesturing across the ocean. “The Mezlat control the air, and they will make the shore a killing ground. Instead, with the countermeasures, we can fly along the roots, keep the Exalted at bay, and approach the energy field from the side.”

“What then?”

“Then, we hold our position. Only the plague can dissolve the field. When it enters the tree, we follow behind.”

“Right,” Amira said, deadpan. “Just gonna plant ourselves in the mud, huh? Sit and wait while the Mez lance us to bits?”

He watched the waves bubble against his feet, seeping blood into the soil. “Calisto might grant us entrance. She . . . keeps appearing to me, in visions. She still wants my help.”

“But we’re not giving that aid, are we? We came here for justice, right?”

Behind her, Xaeyr looked down at Sadik. Kavaia swayed her tail.

“Sir?” Amira said, an edge to her voice.

“I just want to talk to her,” Sadik said. “Face to face. I want to hear her voice, listen to her answers. After that, I will . . . make a decision.”

The human scout nodded, still staring at him. “Permission to speak freely?”

“I already know your opinion.”

“Humor me.”

He turned to look at her.

Calisto stood across from him.

“Humor me,” the ancestor said.

Sadik whirled in place, checking his surroundings. All his friends were gone. The soldiers on the hill had vanished. There was only a lonesome beach, a foaming tide, an overcast sky.

“What is this trickery?” he demanded.

Calisto gestured across the ocean. Instead of blood, there was now a dark, surging water, spraying a salty mist against his cheek. A storm crawled across the sky.

“It’s a simulation.”

“This?”

“This beach is Acheron.”

“ . . . the city?”

Calisto kept a patient expression. “You won’t understand this yet, but there was a river on Earth. We called it the Styx. It was said to ferry the souls of the dead to the afterlife. If the souls couldn’t cross the Styx, they would find themselves on the shores of Acheron, where they would be trapped in a purgatory. They couldn’t live, and they couldn’t die. They would just wander the beach, fighting and despairing. Forever.”

A wave crashed into the sand, churning with salt and foam. Above their heads, the storm began to split itself open, forming an open wound of teeth and sinew. Faces grew along the length.

It was going to reach them in a matter of minutes.

“This is Acheron. This beach, right here.” Calisto brushed sand from her sleeve. “We are the dead that have not died.”

Sadik took a step forward. “What do you want?”

Calisto rubbed her hands together, blonde hair falling against her cheek.

“Answer me.”

“I want to die,” Calisto said.

Sadik paused.

“I want you to do it. Not them. Aleph will digest me, and Rushan will burn my servers out of spite.” She made eye contact. “I want you to kill me, Sadik. Before that, I want someone to listen. Someone who understands.”

“I don’t understand,” Sadik said. “Who are you? Why are you a machine? Why did you create Acheron at all?”

Calisto glanced off into the ocean, where the wind sheared across the waves. “I’ll let you inside,” she said, quietly. “Approach the barrier, and I’ll create a hole. We can talk inside my complex.”

“No.”

She looked at him again, green eyes and pale skin, her hair flapping with the wind.

“I will not do anything,” Sadik said, “until you explain.”

“We’re out of time.”

Sadik took a step forward, attempting to grab her coat. His hand phased into her shoulder, down the length of her hardened vest, and out through the elbow, as if he had touched nothing but air. Her entire body began to shimmer.

“You’re being deceived,” Calisto said, her voice turning metallic. “Don’t trust the plague.”

The wind shrieked. The storm raged. Around him, the world turned black and empty, splitting with an endless void.

“Come to me, Sadik.”

He fell into the dark.

“Sadik! Come to me!”

He opened his eyes, finding himself back on the muddy beach. Kavaia and Amira were kneeling over him. Throbbing pustules covered the rocky cavern sky, glowing a delicate blue. Just as he was about to gather his senses, Amira opened her palm and slapped him across the face.

“On your feet, soldier!”

Sadik scrambled back to his feet, cheek smarting, head buzzing with resonance. Across the ocean of blood, a battle raged between fleshy soldiers and flying machines.

“What happened?” Kavaia said, still kneeling. “You started convulsing.”

“I was right,” Sadik replied, wiping his face. Drool leaked from his lips. “Calisto wants to talk. She’s going to let us inside.”

“‘Let us?’” Xaeyr asked. “Who said we needed permission?”

Lanir trudged through the beach, extending her long neck. She sniffed Sadik’s armor, as if some trace of his vision remained. “I would not trust this machine. She knows well that she is cornered.”

“I don’t trust either machine,” Sadik answered.

Lanir sniffed him again, gave a chuff, and raised her head high, gazing over the infected soldiers. Spears and banners bristled across the lines.

“Problem is,” Amira said, raising the greatbow shunting from her arm, “Aleph’s kinda got us by the soft bits. We turn on it, make ourselves an enemy—what’s it gonna do? Take control? Melt us to goop?”

Sadik didn’t answer. He watched the progression of the battle, from the Mezlat on the beach to the Exalted swarming against the roots, thinking of tactics and risk. After a few moments, he turned on his heel, marched up the slope of the hill, and faced the hundreds of soldiers that he had once commanded.

“Atten-tion!”

The soldiers snapped into salutes.

“Pre-seeent arms!”

Spears were lowered to the floor, firing chamber held before the chest.

“Excellent!” Sadik shouted. “Now, drop your weapons!”

Confusion spread through the ranks. Several soldiers broke formation to glance at each other, while many simply stood still, eyes ahead and posture straight.

“Relinquish your arms! Stand down!”

The confusion increased. Some laid their spears upon the hillside. A wave of motion spread through the lines, centered on the first to obey, as if some soldiers were only deciding to follow the man beside them. Eventually, an array of spears and shields lay scattered on the earth, with hundreds of faces now watching Sadik.

“Thank you!” he yelled, a little softer. “Now, hear me, my fellows, the men who have bled and died beside me! I am no longer your commander! This is my resignation! And the last order of my career shall be a call for peace!” He pointed over their heads. “Go back! Back to the surface! Join your brothers and sisters! Help them rebuild! Help them to heal! This madness has consumed our home, and it needs to end with us!”

The men stared at him, their bodies modified and their expressions uncertain.

Slowly, a resonance climbed through the air.

Sadik felt a rush of emotion, as if every desire of his men had struck him at once. They were tired, weary, full of longing. They had fought for many days, through revolution and plague, and all of them had watched the city crumble, together with their fallen bodies. When Sadik’s thoughts flooded back to them, they felt the pain he had suffered, and the betrayals he had endured, and all the friends that had kept him anchored in his mission.

For a long moment, the commander and his men knew each better than words could have conveyed.

Soon, all of his soldiers began to quiver, losing the structure of bone and limbs. Legs sank into the mud. Bodies piled together. Melted flesh pooled on the hill, still swollen with faces and organs. In less than a minute, hundreds of souls had disappeared into the earth, sinking through the muck as easily as sludge through a sieve. All that remained were traces of skin, grasslands of hairs. Steamed flesh carried on the wind.

Sadik stayed where he was, trying to ignore the smell.

The resonance continued to thrum.

Somewhere in his skull, a pinprick had begun to open, as if something had broken the seal of his mind. A presence leaked through the hole.

Aleph had noticed him.

“I don’t need these men,” Sadik said, aloud, looking at the empty terrain. “They deserved a rest.”

The presence increased. His mind quivered, his skull stretched with weight. It felt like a mountain attempting to squeeze through the eye of a needle.

“I will make my own decisions!”

There was a pause. A fathomless mind peered through the hole. Sadik breathed, his thoughts smothered like grass beneath a heel. He had the same feeling now as when he was staring up at the cavern ceiling, knowing the weight of the world hung above his head.

And, just as Sadik had received a fragment of his soldiers, he now felt a pulse of emotion from Aleph, as wide and blunt as a desert storm. The plague wasn’t angry at him for dismissing the soldiers—instead, it was curious. It had brought the soldiers here, as something of a comfort to his mind, and it did not understand the decision to release them.

It wanted to learn.

Without warning, Sadik felt a memory being plucked from his mind. He was back in the brothel, just below the surface, and Kavaia was despondent on the stony bed, describing how it felt to heal the refugees, and bear their feelings upon herself.

EVERY SOUL IS A WORLD.

Aleph’s mind began to quiver, as if it were chewing a piece of succulent food. When it was satisfied, the plague disappeared from his skull, sucking out from the hole in his mind as quickly as it arrived. A feeling of emptiness remained.

Ahead, further down the beach, he heard the sound of arguing.

“I’m telling you,” Xaeyr yelled, “we’ll never have a better opportunity! All he sees is the tree! We can run him through while his back is turned!”

“And I’m telling you,” Amira replied, “that we got bigger quail to fry! He’s just some piss in the wind! Follow the order!”

“He needs to face justice!”

“And you need to stop mouthin’ off!”

Sadik descended down the hillside, feeling the iron-salt breeze of the ocean. Next to the arguing couple, Kavaia was watching him carefully.

“He dragged me behind his chariot!” Xaeyr said, peeling his fangs into view. “Killed my friends! I was flayed alive for trying to stop him!”

Lanir glanced at the two of them, shifting uncomfortably.

“Oh,” Amira said, glaring back up at the ten-foot god, “so it’s just about what you want, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not!”

There was a pause.

“Yes, it is!” Xaeyr yelled. “Silty marsh, it’s just—failure! It’s always a failure! I failed to stop his coup! When I failed to stop him a second time, he ripped the fucking heavens apart!” He gestured down at her. “I couldn’t even save you!”

Amira blinked. “Oh, hey—”

“I can’t do anything right! Some god I turned out to be!”

“Hey.”

Xaeyr waved an angry hand over the ocean, towards the raging of sunbeams and bodies. “It’s not fair! You hear me? It’s not fair that he gets to keep being alive, after everything he’s done! I want him to pay! For me! For you! For everyone he’s ever—”

Amira stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Hey,” she said, softly.

Xaeyr took a deep breath.

She hugged him tighter, pressing her chest to his thigh. “I don’t need you to be a god. Alright?”

The baboon folded his arms, refusing to look down at her.

“I don’t blame ya for me gettin’ eaten.”

“I blame myself.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Amira said. “I don’t see a moon on your head. Don’t see you fartin’ out water, no more. Frankly, I don’t see any sign you really need to, either.”

Xaeyr did not respond.

“Know what that means?” She tightened her hug, reaching her arms toward the base of his tail. “Means you can stop bein’ a god, who’s all perfect and wise, and just be a normal sort of person, who’s allowed to fuck up sometimes. Sure would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

“Please stop touching me,” Xaeyr said.

“Come on, now. Give us a kiss.”

He kept his arms folded, eyes straight ahead.

“Bend down, already.”

“Please stop.”

Amira pressed her chin into the flat of his groin, grinning up the length of his torso. Eventually, with a very dramatic sigh, Xaeyr unfolded his arms, took a knee upon the mud, and let her kiss him on the cheek. When he closed his eyes, leaning his head against her shoulder, she began to stroke the fur behind his ear.

They stayed together for several moments.

“You’re welcome,” Amira said.

“Fuck you.”

She gave him a playful slap, releasing her hug and turning back to Sadik. “New orders, sir?”

“We’re leaving,” he said, trudging down to the edge of the blood. A long ocean stretched before him. “Lanir, can you fly?”

The dragon unfurled the wings on her back, as if she’d been waiting for the question. “Unquestionably. My association with Aleph has left me vigorous and spry.”

“Good.” He pointed to the base of the tree. “Take us there.”

Lanir sat on her haunches. Slowly, the rest of the party climbed aboard her back, using the ropes of her harness to maintain balance. None of the torches were lit. Today, she hadn’t needed a single flame.

“Hold on.”

With a great flutter of wings, the dragon took to the sky.

They rose above the shore, flying straight up into the air, before gradually arcing down into a horizontal flight. Lanir’s wings kept gnashing the air, ripping the wind into compliance. Her passengers had to cling to her ropes. Eventually, after the wind was screaming in their ears, and the ground was nothing but a distant red, she began to coast through the air, keeping her wings held out wide to catch the ocean thermals.

Based on the temperature, Sadik would say that the ocean of blood was as warm as a human body. How much had drained from the surface?

Ahead, the battle for the tree was still raging strong. Bodies surged through the mud, loping and fast, while Mezlat carved the earth with sunbeams, forming organized squads. Even from the sky, Sadik could tell that Aleph was slowly gaining ground—the Mezlat had control of the air, but the plague was pouring in from every corner of the beach, and they were slowly overwhelming the drones. As he watched, masses began to squirm together, lashing tentacles into the air, plucking the machines from their flight.

Behind them, a wall of cerulean light rose against the tree, shining a pale radiance upon the battle. On either side, Exalted were swarming against the roots, hunting down every trace of flesh and metal. Like the beach below them, the plague was beginning to win through sheer attrition—the Exalted were able to devour anything in their path, but their numbers were few, and the tide of flesh never slowed. Slowly, tendrils snaked into the sides of the barrier, and intestines wormed into the surrounding bark, each of them sucking and writhing.

With a tight grip on her harness, Sadik climbed onto Lanir’s shoulder, trying to peer above the crest of her frill.

“Take us close!” he shouted.

The dragon nodded. With a flutter of wings, she began to bank against the network of taproots, following the natural curve of the cavern. Wooden tendrils blurred at their side. The ground lurched below. As they passed, the Exalted exploded in their presence, forced apart by the countermeasure, only to reform seconds later. Neither the flesh nor the machines attacked them.

With pustules throbbing above her head, and mushrooms belching to her side, Lanir began to take a sharp turn, so close to the wall of roots that her passengers were nearly thrown into the tangle. Soon, she was flying perpendicular to the tree.

Down below, the ocean of blood ended with a muddy hump of earth, leading directly to the base of the Neheamatt. There was still a section of the hillside, between the trunk and the swarming lines of Mezlat, where no war had yet reached. The ground was smooth, the terrain unblemished. Despite the advance of the plague, it was still wide enough for Lanir to land.

Sadik pointed. Lanir nodded again, leaning into a sharp descent.

If Calisto kept her word, they could land on the beach, approach the cerulean wall, and enter the tree without a single fight. If she didn’t keep her word, they would be placing themselves between a legion of drones and a hostile tree, flanked on all sides.

His life was in her hands.

She had protected him, several times before, even when he was showing signs of rebellion. But that was then, and this was now, and nothing was going to be the same again.

Should he trust her now?

Did he trust either side?

Lanir pitched forward, wings straight, head carving through the wind. Amira kept her greatbow trained on the Mezlat, while Xaeyr rose behind her back, scanning the tide of infected with his spear. Kavaia prepared to leap into the fray.

Sadik gripped the rope between his hands, trying to ready himself for combat. Instead, he felt a rush of resonance, blossoming out from his chest.

A vision began to overtake him.

He was standing in the upper branches of the Neheamatt, far above the pantheon, where the sun gleamed off the top of clouds, the branches grew wild, and the sky was a curving sheet of blue, bordering on the edge of black. Water and sap glistened from the stems.

Ilios stood beside him, shoulder to shoulder.

“This is outrageous!” the falcon yelled.

In front of them, a hologram stood on the edge of a gnarled branch, staring up at the two gods with a bitter scowl. Rushan examined the length of her coat, the hardened fabric of her vest, even the messy tangle of her hair. She seemed nothing but an oddly-dressed mortal.

Fragile. That was the word.

Aldunya seemed so fragile, when she was finally exposed.

He couldn’t help but feel disappointment . . . and a little contempt. He had expected more, from the woman who lived inside the tree.

Shouldn’t a god be taller?

“You have no idea,” Calisto said, “what I’ve sacrificed.”

Ilios stepped forward, towering over the human woman. His feathers gleamed with the light of the sun. “I know you’ve fabricated our entire culture! I know that everything I fought for has been a lie!”

“Keep your voice down.”

“How could you possibly call this righteous?”

Calisto did not respond.

Ilios breathed through his open beak, the tip sharp and pointed. “Only a coward hides their intentions. Only a fool would think their misdeeds impervious to justice.”

“I never wanted any of this.”

“Then why are you hiding the truth?”

“Because I can’t trust any of you!” Calisto yelled, her voice ringing metallic. “Do you think I want to maintain this charade? Do you think I want to play the mysterious god? I have to! Every time I try something else, you people destroy yourselves! You have no idea how many times I’ve tried! It never works! It always ends in ruin! All this bullshit about gods and faith and ancestors—it’s the only way to keep you pacified!”

Ilios stood above her, lines of radiance burning across his chest. Rushan placed a hand on his shoulder. The falcon turned to him, met his eye, and managed to calm himself.

“I can’t do it anymore.” Calisto turned her gaze toward the branches, where the leaves fluttered in the breeze, and the bark swirled with light. “I’m tired. I’ve lived for so long. I just . . . I want it to be over. I want someone to take my place. The city needs someone else.”

Rushan folded his arms. “Are you too scared to kill yourself?”

Calisto turned her gaze to him. Around her, wind sliced through the leaves, causing them to rustle and whisper.

“So,” Rushan said, “as I understand this—you expected to invite us here, insult our glory, diminish everyone who’s ever died for your name, and then have us cheerfully continue the lie? This was the wisdom of the great Aldunya?”

“I expected,” Calisto replied, “that you would understand the burden of power. I expected that the two of you would want to serve the people.”

“I do,” Ilios said, his voice low and smoldering. “And I shall. That’s why I will tell them everything.”

“No, you won’t.”

“My honor compels me.”

“I’m telling you, right now—that would be a grave mistake.”

Ilios began to turn on his heel, heading toward the white, flowing sugar of a phloem vein.

“Don’t turn your back on me!” Calisto shouted, her voice vibrating through the leaves and stems. “We’re not done here! I am your god!”

“Rooshy,” Ilios said. “Come on.”

Rushan unfolded his arms, gave the human a sneer, and followed behind the god of the sun, heading back across the branches. He could feel Calisto’s stare upon his back.

“Fine!” the woman yelled. “I should’ve expected this! I should’ve known I would just be disappointed! That’s always how it works!”

The two gods entered the open mouth of the phloem, where a membranous carriage waited to take them down to the pantheon. When they turned, they saw Calisto still standing in the distance, seeming a small and lonesome figure.

“I’ll find someone else! Don’t think I won’t! Don’t think I haven’t done this before!” She clenched her fists. “None of you are irreplaceable!”

The phloem shifted. Sugar crawled from the sky. Slowly, the carriage began to descend, carrying them back down toward the world. For a long moment, the two of them were quiet, standing in the dark confines of the vascular tissue.

“I have to tell them,” Ilios said, quietly. His voice was muffled beneath the shifting churn of sugar. “Whatever this is, whatever we’ve become, it . . . it can’t continue.”

Rushan kept his gaze on the floor.

“The people need to know, Rooshy. They deserve better than this.”

“She will try to silence us,” the jackal said.

“Let her try.”

“We might lose all the ancestors’ gifts.”

“Maybe we should.”

Rushan looked at his friend.

“I would rather perish,” Ilios said, “than continue living someone else’s lie.”

Another silence fell. The carriage rumbled, squeezing down through the vein. Eventually, the lines of radiance on Ilios’ skin began to dull, as the falcon stared into the wall, and lost himself in doubt. The full weight of his decision seemed to hit him at once.

Once more, Rushan placed his hand on his shoulder.

“I’m with you, brother.”

“. . . thank you.”

Ilios turned, embracing Rushan in a hug. They stayed as one, heads together, finding strength in the shade of the tree. As always, it felt like the two of them against the world.

It was the last time they would ever touch.

Sadik blinked, returning to himself. The roots blurred at his right. An ocean of blood peeled on his left. They were still hundreds of feet above the muddy hills, and he tried to grip the ropes on Lanir’s shoulder, nearly falling straight down to the world.

Above his head, Rushan leaped from the edge of a root, screaming with fury.

He smashed into the dragon’s wing, black and gold, rushing fast. Lanir tilted with the impact. Everyone lurched. Xaeyr fell forward, scrabbling against her flank. Sadik, already disoriented, went straight over Lanir’s shoulder, dangling above the battlefield on a single string of rope.

The wind screamed. Voices yelled.

With everyone reeling, the jackal rushed in, like a fox among the hens.

He slashed at Amira, his arm a scythe of bone. She blocked with her plague arm, and the limb ripped from her shoulder. There were screams, blood, flapping sinew. Xaeyr made a scrambling thrust, fangs out, spitting Rushan upon his spear. The jackal snarled, still impaled, and bashed Xaeyr with an elbow, so strong that the baboon’s jaw was left dangling on a single joint. His naked tongue began to gurgle.

Lanir tried to right herself. Sadik clawed at her shoulder, feet kicking in the wind. Kavaia stood tall on the dragon’s spine, her dress plastered to her body, and swung her hammer in a wide arc.

Rushan continued to roar.

Dawnstar shattered his face, the skull splitting into spray, bits of teeth and rib and spine. His chest became a headless valley, and the shattered points of his ribs began to angle themselves, launching from the meat like bees from a hive. Kavaia took several bones to the face. Splinters protruded from eyes.

With a grunt, Sadik flopped his body onto Lanir’s shoulder, the dragon pushing his feet with her head. By the time he regained his footing, Rushan was already growing a head out of the sludge of his collarbone, the veins of his heart becoming a wild lash of tentacles.

Eyes grew from the abdomen. They looked at Sadik. The rest of the body morphed and bulged.

As Sadik began to charge, Rushan raised the scythe of his arm and slashed off to the side, severing Lanir’s wing in a single stroke.

The world lurched.

Bodies tilted, screaming loud.

Roots and mud blurred with the speed.

Without any word, Sadik charged the god of war, ran him through with his sword, and tackled him off the dragon’s back, locked together in mortal combat.

They fell to the earth, spinning and wild.