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side of him. “Am I dead? Where’s Zemya? I thought She would greet me….” Ivandar tries to scuttle back, but the Lady places a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“You were dead, but thanks to a friend, you won’t remain so. We’re going to find Zemya now.” The Lady rises with the grace of an eagle taking flight. The Father extends a hand to Ivandar and helps him to his feet.

“What friend? I still don’t understand….” Ivandar’s round, frightened eyes scan the crowd. Looking for Ghoa. When they fail to find her, his gaze settles on me. I give him a single, somber nod.

His entire frame sags. He clutches his bloodied shirt even harder. “How? Why would she do this?”

Before I can answer, the Lady of the Sky and Father Guzan join hands. Shocks of brilliant green grass and swaying ferns spring up beneath the Father, and another plaque of darkness crumbles from the Eternal Blue sky directly over the Lady’s head, enfolding Them in the largest swathe of sunlight yet. They whisper words too low for any of us to hear, and when They raise their joined hands overhead, the garden falls away, bringing us to stand before a high stone wall with a gate large enough for only one person to pass at a time.

Ashkar stands beside the gate, clad in gleaming lamellar armor—the most glorious Kalima warrior I’ve ever beheld. Yet I’m neither awed nor impressed. The sight of Him floods me with too many conflicting emotions. He gave me my power, for which I will always be grateful. But He also led me to use that power to attack and enslave. To conquer and claim the people and places He feared.

Maybe He truly thought Zemya was a threat. And perhaps She was. Or maybe He was even more afraid of sharing the smallest part of His glory with His sister, of not being the best in the eyes of Their parents. I know better than anyone how the need for praise and approval can drive you to do things you never would have considered. But for some reason, I had assumed the gods were above this. That They had transcended such lowly human emotions. But maybe it’s that humanity, that fallibility, that keeps Them tied to us. Bringing out the best and the worst in all of us.

When He spots our group, Ashkar brandishes His saber and moves in front of the gate. “What are they doing in our realm?” He levels His blade at the Zemyans.

“Lower your weapon,” the Lady commands.

When Ashkar doesn’t immediately comply, She flicks Her wrist and His blade flies away on a gust more violent than anything a Wind Whisperer could conjure. “We’ve had more than enough bloodshed. It’s time to lay down our weapons and grudges.” She holds out Her hand. “We’re bringing your sister home.”

Ashkar stares in horror at the Lady’s hand. “But She—

“Never had a chance,” Father Guzan interrupts. The timbre of His voice shakes the walls of Ashkar’s watchtower. The rocks and mortar groan, threatening to collapse. At last, Ashkar sighs and opens the gate.

A current that feels like both wind and water sweeps us up and washes us through a tunnel of shadows. I brace for the glaring brightness of the snow and the unforgiving sting of the cold, assuming we’ll return to the ice caves, where we entered the realm of the Eternal Blue. But when my feet touch down, I’m standing on white marble steps, cluttered with singed debris. The blackened husk of the Sky Palace looms over us, and a sore battle rages across the Grand Courtyard. A melee of Ashkarians and Zemyans fight with blind rage, defending their homes and families to the death. Battling for the rights and respect they believe they’re owed from feuds that began centuries before.

The carnage is horrific; I’ve never seen such a bloody battle, not in all my years at the war front. Both sides are so consumed by the chaos, they fail to notice the gods, standing there. Watching them slaughter one another.

I glance at the Lady of the Sky, waiting for Her to unleash a storm of lightning. Or for Father Guzan to rend the earth and command their attention. Or for Ashkar to leap to the aid of His people, to ensure they defeat His sister’s followers. But none of them move.

I, on the other hand, am going to burst out of my skin if I don’t move. The tendrils of darkness shiver in my periphery and whisper in my ears. Ready now that we’re no longer in the Eternal Blue.

You can end this now. So easily. If the Zemyans cannot see, they cannot fight.

My fingers twitch. From the other side of Minoak, I feel Ziva’s fists tighten in response. Ready to charge with me. But I let out a long, steadying breath and uncurl my fingers. If battering the Zemyans with the sky was the will of the First Gods, They would have called the darkness Themselves.

The Lady of the Sky places a hand on my shoulder, gives me an approving smile, and whisper’s Zemya’s name. Her voice is so soft, I can barely hear it and I’m standing right beside Her. Zemya will never hear from the barren wastes by the sea. But then the Father joins the Lady, chanting Their daughter’s name. After a beat of reluctance, Ashkar adds His voice to His parents’ and the fighting instantly ceases.

Every Zemyan in the courtyard stands still enough to be frozen—arms raised, daggers slicing, mouths screaming. Tears stream from their eyes and sweat pours down their cheeks. Within seconds they are drenched and dripping, as if caught in a rainstorm, though the sky is perfectly clear. The water gathers into a puddle in the center of the cobblestones, growing wider and deeper.

“Hot-spring water,” Ivandar wheezes as the droplets seep from his skin as well.

Once the water is knee-deep, it shoots skyward like a fountain and forms the shape of a woman as it

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