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When consciousness returned, Sadik could only move his eyes.

Something metallic lived inside him. Like wet cement, it had poured through the cracks in his flesh, setting every inch of his body as hard as stone. His lungs were two hollow shells in his chest. His muscles were as taut as bowstrings. He tried to breathe, tried to struggle against the shell of liquid that bulged his skin and entombed his sinews, but nothing could be done. It felt as if his mind had been severed from his body. A prisoner of his own flesh.

The Exalted still remained inside of him.

As his vision continued to return, Sadik realized that he was walking. His jailkeeper was moving his legs. Every contraction of his muscles felt alien, coming from a mind not his own. Because his head was bowed, he saw only marble tiles rolling before him. Columns and vines occasionally crossed the edge of his sight. There were shadows of other figures, the heavy strides of gods felt through the stone beneath his feet, but he could not turn his head the barest few inches to look. Not a word was spoken.

And, judging by the breeze on his skin, he was still naked.

Panic began to take hold. The Exalted would only command a prisoner if the matter of their escape could not be left to chance. There would be no dungeon waiting for him. No opportunity for suicide. He would be brought before a crowd. There would be a trial. A chance to defend himself before gods and men. If he spoke well, they would not torture him. But, no matter what, his fate would lie on a headman’s block, the wood still stained with the blood of traitors.

He was very familiar with the process. On Hisana’s order, he had executed countless criminals. Enemies of the palace, heretics, leaders of cults, infiltrators from outside the walls. When she was whole, Dusksong’s blade had never remained dry for long.

He was going to die.

Slowly, his surroundings began to change. Warm sunlight became the dim flicker of torches. The echo of his footsteps began to return faster. More than once, without warning, his body was forced to stop and wait. All the while, the shadows of gods passed on the edges of sight.

They entered a tunnel. A rushing sound appeared, flowing like water. Steadily growing louder. It sounded like a stadium. A crowd braying for violence.

His body walked. Sunlight returned.

He felt dirt beneath his feet. There were furrows in the earth, deep gashes left by the racing of chariots. Around him, the crowd jeered and screamed, their voices rising with a fiery weight. More than once, something shattered close to his naked skin.

If there was any hope that Xaeyr’s coup had succeeded, it died upon hearing the rage of the masses.

Sadik remembered seeing a hippodrome during his entrance to the pantheon. Xaeyr and Thimera debating the fate of the mortals. He supposed this was as good a place to die as any.

His body was paraded along the dirt. Eventually, it was taken upon a stage. The wood had been cut from the Neheamatt itself—it glistened in the sunlight, the whirls of inner bark almost drifting before his eyes. Each splinter still held a shadow of Glimmer.

Sadik knew, from paintings and legend, that there was a Palace of Justice in the pantheon, an opulent court where justice may be delivered under the watchful gaze of the ancestors. Instead, they had dragged him to a cheaply built platform in a racing stadium. It did not inspire confidence in a fair trial.

His legs moved to the edge. His body bowed before the pantheon. As the jeers and calls rose around him, he was lowered to his knees and forced to wait.

Sadik took stock of himself. Tried to plan. The sunlight on his back was warm and bright, smothering the edges of a high-altitude chill. It was morning, just as it had been when he arrived, but there was a dull hunger in his belly, and a growing stubble on his cheeks. He could only guess that the Exalted had kept him unconscious for an entire day, if not more.

There was no chance of escape. Little hope of swaying the crowd.

If nothing else, his last words would be a curse towards traitors and cowards alike.

The Exalted loosened its hold on his neck. The rest of his body remained as impassive as stone, but Sadik had finally received the chance to glance at his surroundings. With sunlight falling upon his back, he looked up at the stands of the hippodrome.

Dozens of gods glared down at him. They filled the stands up to the high branches, spreading into a canvas of divinity. There were ethereal shapes, swarms of beetles, small celestial bodies orbiting above crowns of jewelry. More species than the deserts could ever hold. Some of the gods had elected to levitate above their fellows, buoyed by wind and hardening light.

Their cries struck him like a flood. The anger was fresh. Manic. Fueling itself upon the weight of the crowd.

The wood rumbled beneath his knees. Kavaia fell into place at his side. Like him, she was utterly naked, the Exalted swimming through her myrtle scales like sand through a sieve. Upon her kneeling, jeers and boos rained down from the crowd. The leaves of the Neheamatt seemed to shudder with the force.

They had saved their true hatred for the goddess of death. Kavaia had spent centuries reaping the Glimmer from their followers, ensuring the proper flow of the Neheamatt’s gift. She had been a shadow across every mortal who might’ve given them the power of faith. And, most egregiously, she had refused to play their politics. There were few people that mortals hated more than tax collectors, and Sadik supposed the gods were no different, in that regard.

Her neck shuddered, her head suddenly dropping as control was regained. Instead of looking up at the godly stands, she glanced at Sadik.

Neither of them could talk. The muscles of their throat were still entombed, held as firmly as the reins of a saddle. They could not even lower their jaw to show an attempt had been made. Only their eyes could speak for them.

Kavaia’s eyes were wide. Remorseful. Pleading.

A shadow fell from the sky. Sadik managed to crane his neck enough to see Lanir, goddess of truth and justice, flying high above the branches. With fire burning across her aquamarine scales, the dragon appeared as a second sun blazing through the heavens. She was already descending, cresting through the leaves and twigs as nimbly as a sparrow. With a great flap of her wings, she landed upon the racing track, clouds of dirt erupting in her path.

The crowd silenced themselves as she paced toward the stage. Claws ripped into wood. Sadik worried for the structural integrity of the stage. At the very least, he was amazed that her burning scales did not catch it alight. Once she finished her climb, and the wood beneath her did not collapse, Lanir adopted a regal squat, her wings folded and her spiny tail curling between the trunks of her legs.

Sadik could only turn his neck so far. At the edge of his vision, he saw Lanir tilt her head towards him and Kavaia. Her eyes were a blazing red, as dazzling as rubies. They seemed as merciful as stone.

We have declared an emergency tribunal. Lanir raised her neck, gazing upon the crowd. I am your adjudicator.

She did not open her mouth to speak. Sadik felt the words directly inside his mind, as if they were as natural as his own thoughts.

Forgive our humble court. The Palace of Justice was damaged in the fighting yesterday. It is asked that this stage not influence the verdict.

Kavaia had closed her eyes, trying to breathe deeply.

In the silence of Aldunya, we strive to achieve what justice we may. May our mercies be kind, our punishments swift, and may we earn the blessings bestowed upon us.

Dozens of gods bowed their heads.

The prosecution approaches.

At the edge of the hippodrome, a chariot raced across open dirt. It was pulled by two destriers, the black beasts almost a blur of quills and horns. The chariot itself was a blazing mixture of electrum, gems and bronze, the high-altitude sunlight letting it shine as brightly as molten steel. Dust clouds rippled and soared.

Rushan stood at the head of the chariot. Once the destriers had pulled him close, he took a hand from the reins and waved to the crowd. Thimera, the bovine goddess of pleasure and beauty, emerged from his shadow, blowing kisses with a single hand. A bloody sling cradled her other arm against her dress.

For all the world, the two of them appeared like generals returning from a great conquest. The applause they received only confirmed the illusion.

Something was being dragged through the dirt behind them. There was only a glimpse of white light and bloody fur before the chariot drew near the stage. Sadik was unable to twist his neck further.

The applause intensified. Footsteps rang through the wood. Kavaia’s pupils widened into discs.

Rushan took center stage. He held his arms out wide, bathing in the roar of the crowd. His white linen kilt was singed with ash, his obsidian fur still punctured by a hole in his chest, but the jackal was standing as tall as ever, and Sadik could plainly hear the smile in his voice.

“My friends!” he shouted. “I have found your murderer!”

He moved out of sight. Sadik struggled against the Exalted inside his body.

Xaeyr was tossed onto the wooden stage. Much of the skin on his body had been flayed away, the creamy fur buried under a marsh of blood and dirt. His snout was a ruin of missing teeth, and the small moon above his head had been shattered like a glass marble, the chunks of rock still orbiting around each other. The only sign of life was a feeble, bloody cough.

“Your imprisonment is over!” Rushan continued, striding over Xaeyr’s body. “At long last, we may be free again! Free of fear! Free to serve the mortals once more!” He placed his hands on his naked chest, giving a slight bow. “I know your suffering has been long! I know I may have appeared—”

Silence.

Rushan flinched, whirling around in a blaze of gold.

Lanir sat back on her haunches. Ruby red eyes, wreathed in flame, stared at the jackal. You will speak once the charges are listed. Not before.

With his back to the crowd, the jackal clenched his fists. Hard lines curled through his snout.

“Of course!” Thimera shouted, wrapping her uninjured arm around Rushan’s hip. The move seemed as well-practiced as a courtesan. “Forgive our passion! Fighting for our lives gets the blood pumping, does it not?”

Lanir did not answer. She was leveling her gaze upon Rushan. The god of war has injured the defender before proceedings have begun. I must ask his peers to consider this against him. Her flames seemed to brighten. I will remind those gathered that he has previously been accused of coercion.

“Accused!” Rushan replied. “Never convicted!”

The accusations remain.

The jackal took a sharp breath. Golden eyes glinted like the edges of spears. After a moment, he forced a smile and gave a small bow to the crowd. Sadik heard him whisper: “Touch me again, and I’ll break the other arm.”

The two gods separated. Rushan adopted a stoic posture at the center of the stage, as if presenting the three kneeling prisoners. Thimera stood slightly off to his side, her bovine horns twirling like a pair of snakes. Her smile was strained.

I am your adjudicator. Lanir’s wings began to flutter. I seek only to be an arbiter of truth. I will ensure fair proceedings, and I will carry out the verdicts decided by your peers. May the evil among us be exposed, and may the innocent be spared.

A few jeers threatened to rise from the crowd. Lanir silenced them with a fiery gaze.

I will list the charges. The prosecutor will first present their evidence, starting from order of severity. Once they are finished, the accused will speak in their defense. Due to the extraordinary nature of the crimes, I will demand soul inspections from each of the accused before me. Any refusal to submit will be taken as an admission of guilt.

There was a ceremonial pause. The dragon craned her neck towards the branches above, watching the colossal trunk of the Neheamatt rise into the heavens.

Aldunya. We have suffered in your silence. Any justice we inflict today will be hollow without your wisdom. If you are still watching—if you still intend on shepherding us to grace—please grant us a sign.

Lanir fell silent. Dozens of gods did the same. Sadik could only hear the frantic pace of his heart.

The branches did not move. The air seemed as still as a tomb. Rushan snorted under his breath, glancing at Kavaia. She glared at him with as much fury as her eyes could manage.

Just before the coup, the Neheamatt had given them a blessing. The only one she had granted in weeks. Now, the silence of the leaves seemed as sharp a knife. Had the tree abandoned them?

Had it all been a trick?

Very well. Let us proceed. The flames on Lanir’s skin began to burn brighter. The charges brought before our diminished court, leveled at the god of cataracts, include deicide, grievous assault against a god, conspiracy, and ambitions for autocracy.

Xaeyr moaned on the stage.

The charges leveled at the goddess of death include conspiracy in support of deicide, violating the cordon, and harboring a declared enemy of the gods.

Kavaia focused her eyes on Rushan. He pointedly ignored her.

Finally, the charges brought before the mortal, Sadik Umayyad Zareb, include the murder of mortal life, sedition, blasphemy, learning the true name of the Faceless, and grievous assault against a god. Conviction of any charges will result in extradition to Kohav Yaran, to be punished at mortal discretion.

Lanir paused. She lowered her flaming head towards Rushan. Despite her regal appearance, Sadik sensed a hidden weariness in the dragon.

The prosecutor may speak.

Rushan swept his gaze over the crowd. Slowly, he spread his arms out to his sides, as if welcoming them all into his embrace.

“My friends! I understand your anger! No one shares it more than me!”

Xaeyr spat blood upon the stage, struggling to breathe.

“Ilios shocked us all! Who could’ve imagined deicide in our halls? You’ve all seen the brutality of his death! The sheer mockery! I have shared the battlefield with Ilios, I have been warmed by his radiance, and, like all of you, I could not believe that such a noble bird had met such an ignoble end!”

If his muscles hadn’t been bound into place, Sadik would’ve leaped at the jackal. The Exalted inside his flesh began to churn faster.

“And, believe me, I know!” He began to pace in front of his prisoners, wagging a finger to the crowd. “I know many of you have doubted me! I was the first accused! Ever after my innocence was proven, you all questioned my decision to place a cordon! Oh, Acheron is burning! Barbarians gather at the gates! We must help the mortals at once!”

Rushan smiled to himself.

“Have I not been vindicated?” The jackal let his words echo through the hippodrome, daring any to object. “The traitors within our halls have finally revealed themselves! All along, they skulked in the shadows! Plotted behind our backs! Like many of you, like the other gods who lost their lives, I could scarcely believe the extent at which this conspiracy—”

Rhetoric is not sufficient. Lanir’s voice was edging on irritation. Present your evidence.

Thimera immediately placed herself between Rushan and the dragon, affecting a laugh. “Evidence? Is the evidence not written all over our halls?”

A low rumble of agreement spread amongst the crowd.

The cow gave a significant look to Rushan. He licked his chops. She tensed. After a moment, he stepped aside, rubbing the burned circle on his chest.

“What more needs to be said?” Thimera strode to the edge of the stage, her honeyed voice ringing over the stands. There was a harmony to her tone, a subtle allure to the inflection, that even Sadik found hard to resist. “The perpetrators have already spoken for us, have they not? There is not a single message stronger than one carved with blood and sword!”

The agreements became louder.

“Should we describe the fate of Givion, god of the soils, butchered as he stepped from his abode? Should I tell you all of fair Dazaris, goddess of trade, thrown down into the mountains below after refusing to surrender? What of Caias? Mitra? Yrtune? Shall we drag all our victims upon the stage before their bodies have even grown cold?”

Xaeyr began to writhe on the floor. Several other gods, previously out of sight, moved closer with sunspears in hand.

Thimera scurried away from the baboon, her words fading across the stadium. She glanced at Rushan. Her hand rubbed against her broken arm. “A-and—Lanir!” The cow bowed towards the dragon, attempting to regain her composure. “We understand your commitment to fair proceedings! None of us are better stewards of justice! But—of course—well, the nature of the crimes—”

“Here is your proof!”

There was a crack in the air. Rushan vanished from sight. An instant later, he reappeared in a gust of wind, holding two things before the crowd—the thick, glowing blade of Dusksong and a distended, bloody sack.

Sadik watched the jackal with a cold fury.

“The blade of the Vizier! A priceless weapon, passed down for millennia!” The greatsword seemed little more than a dagger in the jackal’s hand. He waved the blade experimentally, watching the runes glow. “Stolen by the man who unmasked her!”

The attention of the crowd shifted to Sadik. He turned his head away.

“I’ve repeated this story many times! I saw the mortal wielding it! I knew, then, that our most beloved crocodile was smuggling a fugitive into our halls! Once Xaeyr joined them in her bedchambers, I knew a deadly plot was at hand! Oh, if only I had known the extent of the conspiracy! If only Lanir had believed me sooner! I could’ve prevented so many needless deaths!”

Thimera lowered her gaze, no longer pretending to smile. Kavaia glared up at Rushan.

“Like then, as it is now, Lanir wanted evidence! Evidence!”

In a blink, Rushan had turned and leveled the mouth of Dusksong at Sadik’s head. A sunbeam started to boil. Sadik stared into the whirling energy, unblinking. After a moment, Rushan smirked, sheathing Dusksong into the back lining of his kilt. In his other hand, he upended the bloody sack upon the stage.

Severed heads spilled out. All of them were gods, all of them nearly the size of Sadik’s torso. They made a wet thunk against the wood as they fell and rolled. Some of the cuts had not been clean. Rot was beginning to set.

He recognized several faces. Neven. Kronn. The same gods who had been flanking Xaeyr in Kavaia’s chamber. There were many more, too ruined to recognize. Blood, teeth, exposed bone. Desperation in the blackening eyes.

Xaeyr made a snarling leap for Rushan’s ankle. The jackal kicked him aside without a single glance. Sunspears descending on the baboon, searing his flesh.

“My evidence,” Rushan shouted, “is the justice that has already been done! These traitors were stepping stones! Nothing compared to the head of the snake!” He scooped up the hyena head of Neven, hooking his fingers through the nostrils. “If our dear flaming dragon insists on presenting the dead once more, then I shall have my peers examine them, as well!”

He kicked Neven’s head into the stands. The force was so strong that it nearly shattered the skull. Several more heads were gathered, fingers digging into nostrils and eyes. Bones crunched through the volleys. Each of the rotting body parts was caught by another god, the crowds swarming around the centers of impact.

There was surprise. Amazement. A few notes of horror. But, slowly, the rumble of the crowd grew a biting edge. It festered with voices, rising in volume. After a moment, all the severed heads had been gathered and presented once more. Faces of murdered gods were held out by the hands of a mob, the jeers and boos had solidifying into one massive cry of fury.

Rushan turned his back on the crowd, letting their hatred rain down upon his obsidian fur. His golden snout was slashed with a smile.

Lanir remained steadfast. Let it be known. The prosecutor has presented the heads of those previously convicted. All were sentenced to death for acts of deicide. Several have confessed to conspiracy under the guidance of Xaeyr, god of cataracts.

The crowd thundered. More than one head was tossed to the racing track below.

This evidence was known to the court. It was necessary to present it again. We are attempting to carry out justice, not vengeance.

Rushan made a low growl in his chest. Thimera rubbed her broken arm again, glancing at the jackal’s fists.

Lanir straightened her posture, standing tall on her flaming forelimbs. The defender may rise.

Xaeyr did not stand. His light blue toga was torn and bloody. His body was a ruin of dirt and flesh. After a moment, two of the armed guards hooked an arm below his shoulder and lifted him from the wood. He flopped in their grasp, his furred legs struggling to stand.

Can the defender speak for himself? A counsel may be appointed.

The baboon had to grind out the words. “No counsel.”

Do you have witnesses to call?

“They are dead.”

Lanir’s frills began to flutter. Very well. You may speak when ready.

Xaeyr threw off the grip of his guards. After a moment, he found his balance. He bared his bloody chest toward the crowd, the shattered moon still orbiting above his head.

If you do not speak in your defense, you will be convicted of all charges.

“There is nothing to say!”

His words echoed across the hippodrome. The baboon looked to Kavaia and Sadik, both kneeling beside him. He gritted the few teeth he had left.

“You know what you have done!” He pointed a finger across the stands. “You are all cowards! Whimpering wretches! None of you deserve the name of gods!”

The finger pointed to Rushan.

“Mortals die by the thousands! Acheron burns and starves! Our entire civilization is under threat, and you—all of you—have let this tyrant coerce you into silence!” He snarled under his breath, more anger than pain. “Which of you wanted power? Which of you let fear betray your duty? Or have you been so inured by decadence that you hardly care at all?” He bared his fangs toward the crowd. “Answer me!”

From more than a hundred faces, there was nothing but silence.

“I will not apologize!” Xaeyr shouted. “I tried to save the pantheon! If none of you will speak for me now, then you are all cowards! You have earned the tyranny that falls upon you! And I would rather die than call any of you my brothers!”

He stumbled, falling to a knee. Another snarl ripped through his chest. In a flash of strength, he regained his feet and faced the god of war. Several sunspears immediately rose against him.

Rushan folded his arms. His smile was faint. His eyes were sharp.

Xaeyr. The wooden stage rumbled as Lanir shifted her hindlegs. Do you submit to a soul inspection?

“Go fuck yourself, you flaming cunt.”

Very well. You are convicted of all charges. Due to the danger posed by your conspiracy, you will be interrogated by agents of the court until all accomplices have been apprehended.

The dragon lifted her head towards the crowd.

Once interrogation has ceased, the punishment will commence. I ask that all of his peers hold their desired verdict in their hearts. When you are ready, I will read it from your souls.

There was whispering from the crowd. Heated arguments. Feathers and flame bristling along the stands. Many of the gods were glancing at Rushan. After a long minute, the noise steadily faded into silence.

Lanir’s ruby eyes began to glimmer. Sadik felt a wordless pressure pass through the air. The Exalted inside him seemed to quiver in response.

The majority demand execution. You will be flayed like Ilios.

Xaeyr hung his head, his breaths turning ragged.

Does the great Neheamatt wish to interject?

The branches were still. The winds had died. Sadik felt despair begin to grip his heart.

Very well. Have him brought to the gaol. Commence interrogation immediately.

Several guards seized Xaeyr by the arms. As they were leading him off the stage, the baboon spat in Rushan’s face. The jackal did not bother wiping it off until the god of cataracts had been escorted away. Golden slices became smeared with bright streaks of red.

Sadik struggled to move. He twisted his neck, hoping to see Xaeyr one last time, but the Exalted did not let his body move an inch. For all he knew, the baboon was already gone.

Kavaia.

The crocodile had not turned to look. Her head was lowered. Her eyes were closed.

You are the next defender. Please rise.

A cloud of Exalted blew from her skin. Her kneeling body sagged, suddenly supporting itself again. With a deep draw of breath, savoring the air that had been denied to her lungs, Kavaia rose to her feet.

In the stands, some of the gods began to jeer. Most glared at her in silence. The hostility could be felt like the searing gust of a sandstorm.

At the moment, the jackal’s smirk had died. He watched the crocodile with a smoldering fury.

Can the defender speak for herself? A counsel may be appointed.

“I will speak,” Kavaia said. It was barely more than a whisper. “I wish to testify under inspection.”

Are you certain? It is not required, and it may harm your cause.

“Yes.”

Very well. Lanir’s eyes grew bright. The same wordless pressure passed through the air. Your soul is bared for all. Because you have placed yourself under mercy, I will interrogate you to ascertain the truth. Any falsehoods will be declared to your peers. Do you understand?

“I understand.”

Speak louder, so that all may hear.

She closed her eyes. “I understand!”

Her voice echoed across dirt and stone.

For a moment, Lanir shifted her gaze between Kavaia and Rushan. There was a knowing look beneath the flames.

Did you conspire with Xaeyr, god of cataracts, to commit deicide?

“I was not involved in the fighting. Xaeyr wished to use me for my healing, to save the lives of those under his command. He had pled for weeks.”

You admit to aiding and abetting those who planned to commit deicide? You broke the neutrality of your station?

Kavaia’s gaze had fallen onto the dirt of the hippodrome. There were slashes made from chariot wheels, the dry purple blood of a destrier.

You are under oath. Speak.

“Yes.”

A rumble came from Lanir’s chest. It vibrated the stage. Let it be known—her heart is true.

Murmurs rippled from the crowd. Many shook their heads.

Did you violate the cordon imposed by the god of war?

“Yes.”

For what purpose?

“Xaeyr tasked me with gathering Glimmer. I achieved this by pilfering the dead at the Syran river, where the delta fleet of the Vizier had been sunk. Once complete, I returned to the pantheon. I did not stray from the task.”

When did you rendezvous with the mortal, Sadik?

“There was no rendezvous. I found him dying in the river.” For a moment, Kavaia’s head almost turned toward the human. “I saved his life.”

For what purpose?

“. . . I wanted to do something noble.”

Her heart is true. Lanir paused. Why did you bring him to the pantheon?

“I used him to inspire envy in Rushan. I hoped to distract the god of war from the coming coup, and I. . . .” Slowly, she turned her head towards the jackal. “I wanted to hurt him in the only way I could.”

The sharp, golden tips of Rushan’s ears flattened against his skull.

That is not the whole truth. Lanir gestured with the scaly point of her chin. You are lying by omission.

Kavaia looked down at her naked body. There was nothing to cover herself. No shelter to be found.

You are under oath. Speak the truth.

“I was lonely!”

The declaration was sudden and sharp. It sliced through the leaves, echoed across stone.

For the first time, she raised her gaze toward the crowd. “I wanted to talk to someone! I wanted to feel the comfort of understanding! I was so desperate for companionship that I laid with Rushan! I endured his lies! His control! His endless, spiteful vanity! I made a mistake! I made a mistake! And I . . . I. . . .” Her voice began to crack. “I have condemned my entire society for want of a friend.”

The crowd was silent. Thimera stared. Rushan could not decide between anger and pain. Sadik craned his neck to watch, the thin sunlight barely felt on his skin.

Let it be known—her heart is true.

Tears rolled down her face.

Did you know this mortal’s identity?

A low keening bled from her throat.

You are under oath. Speak.

“I suspected. He refused to answer.”

You were ignorant of his crimes?

“Yes.”

Was this due to the neutrality of death?

“I have severed myself from gods and men. Ignorance was my shield. The only thing that stopped the pain.”

Her heart is true.

Kavaia crossed her arms, hunched her shoulders, curled her tail around her legs. Anything to make herself smaller.

Are you conspiring to support enemies of the Vizier?

“No.”

Were you involved in the Demokrat revolution?

“No.”

Did Xaeyr ever threaten you into compliance?

“No. I chose my path. I will bear the cost.”

. . . Her heart is true. Lanir paused again. This one did not appear ceremonial. After a moment, her eyes grew dim. Vibrations dissipated from the air. My interrogation is over. You may speak freely to your peers, if you wish.

She unfolded her posture. Slowly, with the cloudy shell of an Exalted swirling around her, Kavaia gazed up at the crowd.

“The mortal was not involved in the coup. I brought him here against his will. Any crimes he committed inside the pantheon were at my order. I ask only that you show him mercy.” Tears fell upon her chest. “He is a good man. He does not deserve to die.”

For the first time in her testimony, the goddess of death looked at Sadik. He was kneeling upon the stage, shadowed by Rushan. The sight seemed to break the last of her strength.

“That is all. I await your judgement.”

Lanir gave a slow nod. Restrain her.

The cloud of Exalted buried itself in her skin. Her body stiffened. Pulsed and staggered. She was brought back to her knees.

You are convicted of all charges.

Her body was locked in place. Only the tears continued.

I ask that all of her peers hold their desired verdict in their hearts. When you are ready, I will read it from your souls.

There was no outcry from the crowd. Instead, whispering rustled through the leaves. Gods conferred with their neighbors. Hushed arguments ensued. The verdict took much longer to reach than Xaeyr’s. Enough deliberation passed that Rushan began to grow impatient.

Finally, the crowd seemed to settle. A vibration passed through the air.

The majority demand exile.

Kavaia barely blinked in response.

You will be stripped of your providence. Made mortal once more. You may remain within the walls of Acheron, but you will never enter the pantheon again.

Rushan looked away. A shadow fell upon his face.

Does the great Neheamatt wish to interject?

There was no movement. No sound to be heard. Above them all, the broad wooden trunk continued to rise. It was wider than any river, taller than any mountain. It seemed to impale the heavens.

Sadik felt despair turn to anger. In a single day, his entire faith had been shattered. The gods were no different than men. The tree of life did not care to preserve it.

His hope suffered a strangling death.

Very well. Lanir raised her neck in preparation. Relinquish her Glimmer.

The Exalted inside her began to churn, rushing like locusts upon a corpse. Her skin bulged. Her muscles sagged. Her entire body seemed to billow and dent. As the Exalted formed a swarming shell around her, pinpricks of light rushed from her scales. They swirled into the maelstrom, vanishing upon contact with the open air. The Glimmer faded like the dying embers of a fire, lost in a storm of sand.

Through the light and motion, Kavaia’s mouth was locked in a silent scream.

Slowly, the Exalted swarm began to release itself from her skin, peeling away in flakes and waves. They took more light with them. An entire night sky worth of Glimmer. Green scales emerged from the swarming clouds of black. As her Exalted coalesced upon the stage, forming a faceless shell of a man, Kavaia remained lying upon the wood, as curled and defenseless as a newborn child.

In the end, she did not look any different than before.

You will be placed in a seed and dropped from the branches, once the fate of the mortal is decided.

Sadik did not look away from her. The memory was all he could see. Hisana crawling along the floor. Her dignity shattered. Her last words used to beg for someone else.

Sadik. Please rise.

The Exalted evaporated from his skin. Control was regained. His lungs tasted air for the first time in a day.

Under the gaze of the pantheon, Sadik rose to his feet.

Can the defender speak for himself? A counsel may be appointed.

“I will speak.”

Like the night in the palace, he was naked. Alone. Facing certain death.

Do you have witnesses to call?

“I require none.”

The fury spilled from his heart.

Very well. You may speak when ready.

Sadik made sure the crowd was focused on him. Once he had their attention, he pointed a finger at Rushan. “The god of war murdered Ilios!”

There was a flash in the jackal’s eyes. A hint of fear. It told Sadik everything he needed to know.

“During the revolution, the Luminous Path were slaughtered! The Demokrats butchered us in the halls! Everyone who fled the palace was hunted down without mercy!”

Sadik could only imagine his appearance. Naked as the day he was born, surrounded by a shimmering cloud of Exalted. A mortal yelling to the entire pantheon at the top of his lungs.

“Ilios was our patron! The light to guide us all! And he was murdered along with his followers!”

He turned to Rushan. The god was near twice his height. Just on the edge of snarling.

“It was not coincidence! To kill a fire, you must snuff all the embers! And there is only one deity who would benefit from chaos in a time of war!” Once more, Sadik pointed at Rushan. “He murdered Ilios! My brothers were slaughtered on his order! I have no proof other than what I feel in my heart, and I need nothing else to know the truth! I would bet my life on this!”

“Ridiculous!” In the blink of an eye, Rushan was looming over him. Each of his muscled arms were as thick as Sadik’s body. They seemed ready to rip him in half. “I have been judged innocent! You are trying to distract us all from your crimes! I will not have this court—

Silence.

Lanir rose up on her forelegs. Fire blazed across her scales.

Rushan began to round on her, marching over Kavaia’s weeping form. “You cannot turn this around on me. I passed your soul inspection. The point of this trial—”

If the god of war takes another step, arrest him.

The Exalted standing over Kavaia began to shimmer. Several of the guards ringing the stage gripped their sunspears, looking nervously at the jackal. Rushan did not glance at them. He watched the Exalted. Once more, a hint of fear touched his eyes.

The testimony of the mortal will be considered. If I find it compelling enough, a new tribunal may be declared. Lanir raised her head, allowing herself a hint of satisfaction. There is certainly enough evidence for malfeasance.

“Rooshy.” Thimera threaded her way through guards and spears, a timid smile on her face. “Be calm. They grasp at straws.”

Rushan snarled at her. The cow flinched away, tripping over her own feet. Her broken arm struck the stage.

You have tested my patience enough, jackal. Be silent, or I will make you so.

In the sunlight, the god of war was nothing but black fur, sliced gold, and barely restrained rage. The dragon hardly blinked.

Mortal. Do you submit to a soul inspection?

“I do,” Sadik said.

Rushan clenched his fists. The Exalted began to break its human form, spreading into a cloud.

With swelling flame, Lanir focused her eyes upon him. Vibration surged through the air. Sadik felt his mind become eclipsed by another. A blinding light scoured every shadow from his soul.

Just as quickly, Lanir pulled her gaze back. Sadik could only compare it to ripping an arrow from his chest. The dragon’s scaly chin began to drop.

Let it be known—his heart is true.

“Enough!” Rushan shouted. “He has been declared an enemy of the gods! The Vizier demands his head! The opinion of a traitorous guard means nothing!”

Lanir shifted her gaze between god and man. The frills on her neck shook in contemplation.

“If you will not dispense justice, then I will!” The jackal turned to Sadik. “Mortal!”

Sadik did not flinch.

“I demand trial by combat!”

Cease your theatrics. You are only harming your cause.

Rushan unsheathed Dusksong from the back of his kilt. He leveled the broken blade at Sadik. “Do you want your sword back?”

“It is not mine,” Sadik said. “It belongs to the true Vizier.”

The jackal barked a laugh.

Order! Lanir unfurled her wings, blowing wind across the stage. I will have order in my court!

With a casual swing, Rushan tossed Dusksong into the air. Sadik caught the sword by her haft. Her handle was warm. Her weight was reassuring. It felt good to wield her again.

The crowd was roaring. The Exalted were a glinting swarm.

“Defend your claim, mortal.”

“After you, my lord.”

ENOUGH!

Lanir opened her mouth, belching a stream of fire over the stage. The heat was excruciating. Everyone but the jackal flinched away from it. When the flames had drained from her jaw, the dragon’s ruby eyes glowed as bright as the sun.

Rushan, god of war, I am placing you under arrest for conduct unbecoming. In light of this new testimony—

A rustling filled the air.

Around the breadth of the stadium, vines began to crawl. Columns were swallowed by shoots. Entire statues disappeared beneath a sea of blades. In the sky, branches curled like the fingers of a giant, raining thousands of leaves down upon gods and marble. Even the hippodrome itself started to shake, as if a beast of unimaginable size was shaking the building from its foundation.

The gathered crowd of gods began to scatter, fleeing from the rushing plants. Feathers, flames and small planets collided in a stampede. The vines covered the stands like a raging flood.

A wordless roar ripped across the sky.

Lanir bared her wings. Aldunya!

Fleeing gods spilled upon the dirt. It was hard to tell which was louder—the screams of fear, or the thundering crack of stone. Above the stands, vines had lifted the terraced ceiling fully above its columns, slithering through the marble like fingers through a crust of bread. A swirling mass of wood and leaves grew from the halls, piling high into the thin morning sky.

Aldunya! Lanir took flight, knocking over several guards with the strength of her wings. Forgive us! We were only attempting justice!

There came another roar. It shook the dirt beneath their feet. All around, gods fled into the central arena. Thimera moved to hide behind Rushan, who was already leaping off the stage. Even the Exalted blew into the breeze.

Sadik ran forward. Kavaia was still lying upon the wood, half senseless to the world. He tried to pull her away, coaxing her to stand. Nothing worked. In the end, he chose to stand in front of her, leveling his sword at Aldunya’s wrath.

The crawling vines began to slow. Like a bed of snakes, they curled upon themselves, endlessly writhing into knots and tangles. It hardly seemed different than a deep-sea creature, full of tentacles and hatred, rising from the waves to punish a band of arrogant sailors.

Lanir flew above the vines and branches, flames arcing across her scales. Tell us your grievance, Neheamatt! How may we serve?

There was a sigh that shook the stadium. The entire tree appeared to tremble.

And, all at once, it fell apart.

The vines slackened. Leaves flooded upon the stone. Entire branches snapped in twain, crashing down with the weight of buildings. There was another roar, louder than all the ones before, and Sadik could suddenly hear the emotion in the wordless voice.

It was not anger. It was pain.

As he watched, the leaves began to brown. Streams of pus and rot poured down from the stands. Vines sagged through the cracked open stone, receding back like the last breath of a wounded man. It seemed as if they were watching a body rot in seconds rather than days.

Sadik ran to the edge of the stadium, peering into the cores of the fallen branches. Instead of wood and life, there was only a hollow shell. Eaten alive from the inside. Every single branch was the same. Beneath the bark, they all bore the scars of consumption and injury.

A cry for help rumbled through the air, shaking the pantheon to its foundations.

The tree of life had been silent for weeks. Some had thought it was indifference. Others had seen it as punishment. No one had guessed the truth.

The great Neheamatt was dying.