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“Thank you for coming,” Sadik said.

He could see six faces in the candlelight. Amira stood to his left, crossing her muscular arms across her chest. Haakon preened his feathers with a few swings of his beak. Yasmin crouched beneath the wooden shrine in the center of the room, fiddling with the electronics below. Off to the side, Isaac and Zaria examined the scenes of battle adorning the columns. Finally, Kavaia stood close to his right, her gaze lingering in the shadows.

The sanctuary was beginning to feel a little crowded.

The air smelled of smoke, rust, old stone, and leaking sewage. A bed of candles flickered along the wooden shrine, each of the flames quivering at a breath. In front of the shrine, there was a red marble plinth, faithfully carved with cornice and gems, and atop this plinth was a statue of Rushan, poised in victorious combat. Even in the soft orange light, the god of war casted a long shadow. He loomed above all.

“Operation Fading Dawn will commence tomorrow,” Sadik said. “In the interest of our new alliance, we will discuss the terms of engagement.”

Zaria nudged Isaac with an elbow. The middle-aged human returned his attention to Sadik, closing a personal notebook he had been using to jot down notes and sketches.

Haakon gave the pair a sidelong glance. Upon first meeting, he had refused to shake their hands. Sadik considered it lucky he was willing to share a room.

“Our objectives are simple.” Sadik leaned on the wooden shrine, the scales of his armor glinting with candlelight. “Breach the palace, slay the false Vizier, destroy his life tanks, and take control of the fortress. If all goes well, a proper dynasty will be restored.”

“I’m guessing that simple does not mean easy,” Isaac replied.

Sadik glanced down at Yasmin. The rat was still digging through wires with little sign of progress. “We’ll have a proper presentation for you shortly. Just a moment.”

Yasmin yanked something from the depths of the shrine, gasped at the sound, and wormed her head into the tiny opening. There was a great fumbling of metal.

“What’s that down there?” Zaria asked. “You got a bit o’ magic as a parlor trick?”

“It’s a hologram,” Amira said.

“A what?”

“Fancy magic. Bright colors.”

Zaria blew a raspberry, like she’d never heard of something so wasteful.

“Well,” Isaac said, “if we’re on the subject, I’d like to ask.” He gestured toward one of the doorways in the sanctuary. Outside, staring down from the height of Rushan’s temple, there was a sea of ruins stretching into the dark. “Why is there a city below your city?”

“We have had calamities before,” Sadik said. “Upheavals, invasion. Some of them were . . . unpleasant. The Neheamatt decreed that none should build on these grounds again, so we built above them.”

“Is that likely to happen with your current troubles?”

“Quite possibly, yes.”

“Why abandon the city?”

“It was Aldunya’s decree. We follow her order.”

Isaac began to scratch his beard, growing more curious. “How many times has this occurred?”

“Plenty. There are dozens of layers below. A man could venture downward for weeks and not reach the Foundations.”

“Not for lack of trying, neither,” Amira said. “Just gotta watch out for rubble, old trip mines, fallin’, starvin’, drownin’, demons. . . .”

Isaac was beginning to look enthralled. “Did you say demons?” He gazed at the columns lining the room corners. “I saw some reference to them on the mosaics. This god of war, Rushan—is that his name? He’s fought against these demons?”

Kavaia scoffed. “If you were unfortunate enough to meet him, he would never let you forget it.” She glared up at his statue. “He would claim to raise the moon in the sky, if he thought you gullible enough.”

“Fascinating.” Isaac pulled out his notebook again. “Have you seen these demons, goddess? Could you describe—”

“So, Sadik,” Haakon said, loudly interrupting. “Are you going to share our entire history with these barbarians?”

Amira rolled her eyes. Underneath the shrine, Yasmin gave a curse as something began to smoke.

“Haakon,” Sadik said, carefully. “They’re our guests.”

“They’re a bunch of mud-eating savages! Completely indecent! Oh, you let an exiled god into our midst, and now you’re pampering the same horsefuckers who are battering our gates! I’m surprised you haven’t started a circus full of our enemies!”

“Oi,” Zaria said. “Pretty bird. If you got a problem, you can say it to me.”

“This is unacceptable, Sadik.” His feathers shimmered into a deep crescent blue. “You are allowing our city’s finest wonders to fall under foreign eyes. They need to be confined to their quarters while we discuss this sham of an alliance. They certainly—certainly—cannot be allowed to touch our weapons and defecate on our altars.”

Isaac looked between Haakon and Sadik, his inked quill still posed above the notebook.

“Very well,” Sadik said. “Let’s put it to a vote. All in favor of letting the evil barbarians stay in our sewers?”

Sadik raised his hand. Amira did, as well. After a moment, Yasmin poked her head up out of the shrine. When she saw everyone in the room staring at her, she flinched, muttered something beneath her breath, and raised a hand in kind.

“All opposed?”

Haakon raised a pinioned arm, his feathers flickering red at the edges.

“Well, then,” Sadik said. “It seems the matter is decided.”

Haakon’s head crest began to lower. “Only while a usurper sits the throne. Once I abandon my name, and adorn the red stone mask, they will be expelled from our walls, lest they infect us with mud and tribes.” For once, the shirtless falcon looked directly at Isaac and Zaria. “You will be handsomely rewarded for your efforts, to be clear. We are not ungrateful for your assistance. But there will be no refugees in our gutters, and certainly no warriors in our streets. It’s my duty as Vizier. The ancestors’ chosen above all.”

“You are not Vizier,” Sadik said, losing a bit of patience. “Not yet. And this is not your decision to make.”

“It very well should be! Gods, if we hadn’t been reduced to half our shadows, I’d have you flogged for even considering their presence here!” He threw up his arms. “Can I, at the very least, point out the irony of using democracy in our formal meetings?”

“No.” Sadik turned to the human. “Isaac, we can discuss a formal trade of knowledge after the meeting. You will not be confined, but I would appreciate it if you did not wander. As you can see, we are quite . . . protective of our culture.”

Isaac hastily stuffed his notebook back into his pack. “Oh, yes, of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend.”

“Don’t apologize,” Zaria said. “The canary can eat a double helpin’ of shite.”

Haakon turned to the hyena, bringing his feathers into a fiery glow. Zaria stepped around Isaac, shielding him with her body. Her scarred eye reflected the firelight.

“Easy now,” Amira said, her hand trailing towards her dagger. “He’s a juban. Leave it be.”

Zaria locked eyes with Haakon, as if making sure that her feelings were clear. Kavaia watched the proceedings with caution.

“Oi,” Zaria said. “Can we agree not to share a room from here on?”

“Gladly,” Haakon replied.

“There you go, then.” She drifted back to Isaac’s side. “Problem solved.”

Haakon shook his head. “Gods, what I wouldn’t give for a cask of wine.”

A torrent of light appeared above the shrine. It began as a quivering ball, like an ember of the sun captured in place, before exploding out into wires and arrows, each of the lighted spears moving in coordination around a central point. As the hologram sped to life, the stone walls of the sanctuary became covered in a dancing blue glow, with the statue of Rushan casting a wide shadow upon the ceiling. Eventually, the lights tightened into a grid-like pattern, lazily tilting in the air above the shrine, like cubes of ice floating in water.

Yasmin scurried out from below the shrine. Her robes were stained with dust and dirt, including generous portions of her fur. “Sorry for the delay!”

Sadik nodded. “Overview of the palace, please.”

Yasmin began to type on her handheld device. The grid of light shimmered for a moment, as if preparing to break itself. Instead, the bare lines stretched themselves apart, growing color and form—they created imitations of walls, statues, the dotted slopes of gardens, glittering stone carved into chambers and passageways. A massive building appeared above the shrine—erected in a flash, held in miniature form.

“This is Kohav Yaran,” Sadik said.

From this angle, the ancient palace of Acheron appeared like a flowerpot filled with cacti. Her cerulean walls were depicted as broad rectangles of light, forming a tight hexagon around the palace. Inside, the court of the Vizier was represented as a bulbous dome, adorned with relief and statue, and all the supplementary buildings radiated from the central dome like the leaves of a succulent, with long, sharp towers jutting from the edges. Finally, gardens surrounded every building—at this resolution, the hologram made them appear fuzzy, like moss growing upon stone, but Sadik could remember each of the sanctuaries in perfect detail. He breathed in, tasting the air of the sewers, and remembered the smell of earth and flower.

The Neheamatt had given life to all of Acheron. In return, the palace had been created in the image of plants—buildings shaped like cacti, rooms curving like leaves, towers molded into the shape of thorns, and every column carved into the perfect replica of a tree.

An oasis in the desert. A flowering gem, surrounded by rock and waste.

“As you can see, it’s well-fortified.” Sadik gestured to the rigid walls surrounding the palace. “The barriers are impenetrable. You could fire a dozen trebuchets for a century and not see a single crack. In normal circumstances, the only way through would be to sever their source of energy, which is located deep within the earth.”

“Which we ain’t gettin’ at,” Amira said. “Demons and such.”

“Right,” Sadik said. “With that considered, a conventional assault on the palace would be disastrous. Our estimates place their forces at nearly three times our number. They will have sunspears, archers, modified cavalry shooting quills and acid. Most importantly, they will have at least half a dozen Exalted at their disposal. Our forces would melt into the bricks.”

“No need to lecture the barbarians,” Haakon said. “I’m sure they know how to die against our walls.”

Neither Isaac nor Zaria replied. Both of them were staring in wonder at the hologram. Isaac stepped forward, reaching out with his hand.

Yasmin slapped it away. “Don’t touch!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I—”

“Don’t touch!”

Isaac flinched, stepping back. He continued to stare at the hologram, the pale blue light shining in his eyes. “This is incredible. Beyond any magic I’ve ever seen. How are you able to conjure these images?”

“Pixie farts,” Amira said.

“Sacred relics,” Sadik said. “They are precious machines, built by the ancestors. Few remain.”

Yasmin wiped her hand on her robe, cleaning off some of the dirt. Sadik noticed it was the same hand she had used to swat Isaac. “I . . . stole it from the palace. When I was running.” She looked down at her bare, pink feet. “I might be the only one who can fix them now.”

“Back to the point,” Haakon said, feathers glowing teal.

“The point,” Sadik said, “is that we are not going through the walls. We will travel beneath.”

Yasmin tapped her device several times. The hologram shifted upwards, creating more space below. A series of red tunnels appeared in the air, slithering from the base of the palace like the upended roots of a plant.

“There are secret passageways below Kohav Yaran,” Sadik said. “They connect to the sewers at various points, all so the Vizier may flee in several directions if the palace should ever fall. Only the finest honor guards are made aware of their existence.” He rubbed his chin. “This will be our point of ingress. We will travel through the sewers, bypass the walls, and emerge in the midst of the palace, where none shall think to look.”

For a moment, he watched the palace glimmer above the shrine. Memories returned.

“There is a wrinkle,” he said. “A woman named Faustine, a former. . . .” He grimaced. “A former protégé of mine. She knows of this passage, and she will know how to defend it. Like the Vizier, she’s been granted the honor of using the life tanks, and, thus, she is impervious to death. In a manner of speaking.” He looked away. “I’ve slain her several times. She always returns.”

“You mentioned that before,” Isaac said. “Life tanks.”

Haakon bristled his feathers.

“Yasmin would know the finer details,” Sadik said, diplomatically. “But, as I understand, they are machines capable of perfectly replicating a person, both body and soul. It is customary for the Viziers to have a clone of themselves ready for birth, in case they are ever assassinated. It prevents the very same breakdown of succession that we are currently suffering. If we’re going to kill the current sacrifice, we’ll need to destroy them first.”

Isaac stroked his beard. It seemed a common movement for the scholar. “Why was this not used for the last Vizier? What happened to them?”

A silence flooded the chamber. All three of Sadik’s lieutenants gave him a glance. At his side, Kavaia shifted on her feet.

Isaac seemed to sense that something was wrong. “Have I misspoken?”

“The last Vizier refused to enter the tanks,” Sadik said, keeping his voice calm. “The machines are old. Many are faulty. Sometimes, when a clone is produced, they are defective. They become possessed with a singular madness, a raving aggression. Some of the upheavals I mentioned earlier were caused by this very defect. She was convinced—”

He stopped himself. He was dangerously close to speaking her name. The name she should’ve thrown away. The name she had whispered in his ear.

Hisana.

All eyes in the room were upon him.

“She was worried,” Sadik said, “that the same madness would befall her, if the worst came to pass. Her concern was for the people. I tried to convince her otherwise. She refused. Now she is gone.”

He looked at Isaac. The weathered man was watching him with a mixture of concern and pity, already guessing the truth of their relationship. Sadik hated the sight. All three of his lieutenants had given him similar looks, at one point or another, and he hated the feeling more than words could express.

He hated what had become of himself.

“Regardless,” Sadik said, putting on his usual tone. “This woman—Faustine—she is aware of the secret tunnels below the palace. She was a member of the Luminous Path, just like myself, and that made her privy to such knowledge.” He gestured to Yasmin. “Our hope, however, is that other circumstances will leave the entrance undefended.”

Yasmin shifted the hologram. A district of Acheron shimmered into existence, nestled up against the walls of the palace. The buildings were bulbous and misshapen.

Sadik gestured. “The plague has claimed a district above the tunnels. Its spread is swift, and it’s effects are deadly beyond compare. We believe that the palace will not waste guards on a hidden passage surrounded by plague. Surely, no one would be foolish enough to risk exposure.”

“The tunnels are clear,” Amira said. “Checked ‘em personally. Goin’ that way’s still fucking mad, but, hey, it’s the best we got.”

Sadik began to walk around the shrine. As he went, he glanced up at Kavaia, who was looking at the statue of Rushan. When she shifted her gaze to him, he looked away.

“Isaac, Zaria. This is where you come in.” He stopped at the other end of the shrine, examining both the foreigners. “You entered the city by the eastern wall, correct?”

The two glanced at each other. A few silent questions passed between them.

“Aye,” Zaria said, reluctantly.

Yasmin tapped her device again. The image of Kohav Yaran disappeared, letting the sanctuary fall back into candlelight. After a moment, a full recreation of Acheron appeared above the shrine, as if viewing it from a bird’s eye. Yasmin tapped her device once more, and the hologram focused itself upon the eastern wall.

“Can you point out the exact spot?” Sadik asked.

Zaria glanced at Isaac, who shrugged. Grunting, she stepped over to the edge of the shrine, peering into the wall of light.

“Don’t touch,” Yasmin said.

“Not even a nibble?”

Yasmin was unamused. Zaria continued to examine the floating wall. After a moment, she held out a clawed finger and gently circled a lower section of the edifice, making sure not to touch the light. “This bit here.”

Yasmin tapped again. The section Zaria indicated began to glow red, highlighting itself against the light blue. Sadik stepped forward, and the scarred hyena retreated, scratching the fur on her neck.

“Perfect,” Sadik said. “If the Lord of Bones wants asylum, we will give it to him, on one request—a full assault on the city of Acheron.”

Isaac’s eyes widened. “You want the Kesunae to attack your city?”

“I want the appearance of an attack.” Sadik gestured to the low-lying buildings beneath the high wall. “This district, Apreport, was decimated by the revolution. Few live here any longer. Once the Kesunae pass through the gap, they may pillage and burn, but they are not to take any innocent lives. The point is to draw attention. Meanwhile. . . .”

Sadik waved a hand below the buildings. Yasmin tapped a few times, and a network of sewer tunnels flickered to life, spreading far below the city.

“Meanwhile,” Sadik said, “you will send your refugees into a nearby sewer entrance. Our men will escort them to safehouses and places of shelter. If we’re lucky, we may be able to house a significant number of your noncombatants. With all the food and medicine you can spare, of course.”

Zaria snorted. “I get it. We’re the diversion. Do a bit of the ol’ rape and pillage off on one end of the city, so they don’t see you lot coming through the backdoor.”

“They’ll expect us,” Amira said. “They won’t expect you. Gonna rush out the door, all hands on deck. We’ll gut ‘em while their backs are turned.”

“You realize most of the Kesunae are slingin’ bows and arrows? How’re they gonna stand up to gods?”

“You will face more than gods,” Haakon said. “You will meet several Exalted, hundreds of sunspears, thousands of Mezlat. The full wrath of the ancestors.”

“It will be messy,” Sadik admitted. “Be prepared for a retreat. Once we have secured the palace, we will do our best to relieve you.”

Zaria folded her arms, her scarred eye reflecting the hologram light. “Isaac?”

“It will break his forces,” Isaac said.

“Aye. Thought so, too.” She released a tired breath. “Right, then. I think we can sell this to the Lord o’ Bones. He’ll be a bit quarrelsome, you understand, but it’s like that he’ll fall in line. He knows the Diet’s got him licked, otherwise.” She pointed a clawed finger at Sadik. “You lofty cunts better hold up. Lotta people countin’ on your word.”

Sadik placed a fist over his heart, giving a slight bow. “On my honor.”

Zaria held out her hand. After a moment, Sadik returned the handshake. He could feel the strength in her fingers—if she wanted to, she might’ve cracked his bones with a single squeeze. But, as he looked into her eyes, Sadik saw that her gaze was fair. The scars lining her fur spoke of a woman who had lived through many trials and journeys, and, when she gazed into his eyes, she seemed to find a similar story. For both of them, it was enough.

She nodded. Let him go. There was nothing more to be said.

Sadik gazed at his lieutenants through the hologram. “That is Operation Fading Dawn. Any questions?”

Haakon’s feathers had turned the color of flame. Waves of red anger crawled down his body like water upon glass. “Sadik, you are inviting a savage army to invade our city. I hope, for your sake, you are prepared to bear the cost of the innocent upon your soul, because there will be many.”

Sadik lowered his gaze to the bed of candles below the hologram. He didn’t reply.

“Well,” Amira said. “Makes no matter to me. We were fucked yesterday, and we’ll be fucked tomorrow. Nothing to be done but carry on.”

Yasmin cleared her throat. “I have the—um—the countermeasures for the Exalted ready to deploy. There should be enough for the infiltration teams and. . . .” She glanced at the foreigners. “And some of our friends.”

Sadik gave a slow nod. He was suddenly overcome with exhaustion. “Very well. Meeting adjourned. You’ve all received your tasks, so, if any complications arise—”

“Sadik,” Kavaia said. “I have a question.”

He turned to face the former crocodile. In the blue light of the hologram, her iguana skin had turned the color of a green sea. “Yes, goddess?”

“What is your plan for the gods?”

“Plan?” Haakon asked, scoffing. “How would mortals plan for the gods? You might as well ask us to plan for an eclipse. The only hope is that we are not bothered.”

“We expect the gods to defend the city once the Kesunae attack,” Sadik said. “Hopefully, that will include Rushan. Once we have taken the palace. . . .” He gave a weak shrug. “We will rely on our lawful protection. The gods cannot interfere with mortal politics. Haakon represents a legitimate succession from the previous—”

“Is that your only defense?” Kavaia asked, cutting him off. “Ancient laws?”

“It should be all we require.”

She stepped forward, towering above him. Around the shrine, everyone but Sadik began to tense.

“In the pantheon,” she said, “you accused Rushan of murdering the sun. You said it was no coincidence that your brethren were slaughtered while Ilios was flayed. Do you still believe this?”

For a moment, Sadik was brought back to his escape from the Neheamatt, when Rushan had attempted to crush him between his hands. He had looked into the eyes of the jackal, and he had seen nothing but gold and determination. A wild, reckless fury.

“Yes,” Sadik said. “I do.”

Kavaia gestured toward the hologram of Acheron. “He held the gods beneath a reign of terror. He has convinced the people that Xaeyr is responsible for all his crimes. And, now, he is attempting to return to the city as a hero.” She leaned overhead. Her slit eyes burrowed into his. “Do you truly believe he will stay idle while you commence your attack?”

A silence fell upon the sanctuary. Pipes gurgled with blood.

Kavaia gazed around the room, meeting the faces of all that had gathered. “Your plan is cunning. In better times, I believe it would become legend. But any plan that does not consider the jackal is doomed to failure. He will slaughter your armies singlehandedly.”

Sadik rubbed the edge of his temple. A headache was beginning to form. “What do you suggest, goddess? The same distraction you attempted before?”

She stiffened. “No. Certainly not. I—”

“If the gods could not handle Rushan, what hope do we have?”

She did not answer.

“Do not think me a fool,” Sadik said. “I understand what I am doing. I have defended Acheron for all my life, and now I will bring it further into ruin. Thousands will die. Districts will burn. The city may not survive.” He gestured toward the open doorway, where a sea of ruins loomed beyond. “There is no alternative. Either we die starving in these sewers, or we die for something greater. If we do not seize the initiative, our enemies will. If we do not change our fate, it will be written upon our graves.”

He leaned upon the shrine, closing his eyes. Exhaustion seeped into his bones.

“This city had a purpose. It defended the past. It cherished the days of old. It stood for honor and pride when all around it was desert and waste. For thousands of years, it had not forgotten the dream of the stars.” He opened his eyes. A bed of candles spread before him. “I believe in that dream. I will defend it to my last.”

He took a deep breath, blowing out. A dozen candles were snuffed. Nothing but smoke remained.

How quickly light could vanish.

Sadik stood straight. “Thank you all for coming. If you have need of me, I will be in my quarters.”

He walked around the shrine. His headache grew. His armor was heavy.

“Sir,” Amira said, beginning to reach for him.

He walked past her. No one followed. His sandals echoed upon stone, resounding through a temple that had lain in darkness for centuries. All around him were scenes of battle, tales of glory that had survived untold years of filth and neglect. The god of war slaying demons. The statue of Rushan, peering down upon all.

He left the temple. He walked through ruined streets. He passed by his men, nodding when they saluted. He witnessed crumbled buildings, swarms of vermin, leaking sewage, and fallen drains.

He walked through shadow and dust. He walked with numbing steps. He walked where his mind commanded.

He had never felt more tired in all his life.

“Sadik!”

He stopped. He recognized the deep voice. The regal inflection. The heavy footsteps rushing in.

He kept his back to Kavaia. Even still, her presence fell upon him—the weight of her eyes, the shadow of her body. After a moment, he turned his head to the side, sparing her a brief glance. “Yes, goddess?”

He heard her step forward. Loose stone clattered at her feet. Pipes groaned overhead.

“I am . . . sorry,” she said. “I did not mean to undermine your authority.”

“You were not wrong.”

“Yes, well, I. . . .” She paused. He could imagine her wringing her hands. “Perhaps I could’ve been more constructive.”

He stared off into the gloom. “It’s fine.”

Silence settled upon them. It filled the cracks in the flagstones, spilled through the empty streets. Around them, the ruins were dark, twisted and deep.

She stepped forward again. Just behind him. Towering. Insistent.

“Is there something I can do for you?” he asked.

“That is . . . what I wished to ask you.”

He kept his back to her. Dust swirled in the air. A river of sludge, spilling from a dozen sources, gurgled somewhere in the distance.

Something snapped in him. Something long held in wait.

“Kavaia,” he said. “Can I be honest with you?”

He felt her shift behind him. There was a ghost of movement above, as if she had attempted to place a hand on his shoulder, but held back at the last moment. “You don’t need to ask.”

“I will not return from this mission,” Sadik said.

A long moment passed. When Kavaia spoke, her voice was soft. “How do you mean?”

“When I first assaulted the palace, I expected to die. Instead, five men perished while I escaped. I fled through a plague zone, fighting my old protégé until we were both cut to ribbons. When I plunged into the river, I waited for death. Instead, you saved my life.” He glanced over his shoulder. She was tall enough that all he saw was the white fabric of her dress. “I stayed by your side through the pantheon, thinking that any of the gods would be my end. I survived Rushan. I survived the tribunal, a fall from the heavens, and half the city’s garrisons. Every time, oblivion eluded me.”

He looked away. His eyes fell upon broken statues. Boulders and rubble.

“I know I will die tomorrow,” Sadik said. “If our plan fails, as is likely to happen, I will stay to cover our retreat. If we succeed. . . .” He breathed, feeling the weight of his armor. “If we succeed, then, in the ashes of battle, I will go to the garden where I first felt Hisana’s touch, and I will end my life. Quietly.”

There was a soft breath behind him.

“It is a peaceful place,” he said. “There are beds of flowers. Cactus and trees. We would go there in the cool of the day, where none of the guards were likely to patrol, and speak without fear.”

She walked around to his side, bearing down on him. When he refused to look up at her, she crouched down to a knee, bringing her face level with his. He kept his eyes firmly in the distance. Her gaze was hot upon his skin.

“Sadik.”

“When we first met,” he continued, “or, rather, when we met for the second time, you told me the true name of my sword. Do you remember?”

He grabbed Dusksong by the handle, pulling it from the sheath on his back. It made no sound when it cleared the leather, and it remained silent as he tested the weight. Yellow runes, glowing with power, travelled down the flat of her blade.

Not all the runes were lit. Some had gone dark. The power in his sword was draining, and the machines capable of charging it had long been rendered extinct.

Once he cast the final sunbeam, the sword would grow dark forever.

“Nihayat alnuwr. The End of Light.” He held the sword in front of him, squeezing the haft. Energy crackled from the broken mouth of the blade. “Somehow, over the millennia, the name changed to Dusksong. I suppose they mean the same thing.”

“Sadik,” Kavaia said. “I know.”

He kept his eyes on the blade. It went by many names. It had taken many lives. For generations, it has passed from one Vizier to the next, employed in the execution of criminals. Now, the greatsword was broken in half, wielded by a man who had fled from his post.

Dusksong. A song of dusk. The last cry of daylight.

“Whenever I give my flesh,” Kavaia continued, “I receive the edges of a soul in return. Raw feeling. It’s . . . wordless, without direction.” She glanced away. “It’s what gave me pause, when I pulled you from the river. I saw the same . . . longing. Aches and sorrow.”

He forced himself to look at her.

“I was selfish,” Kavaia said. “I only considered my own feelings. How our similarity might bring me comfort, and not . . . how you were suffering. Like I was.” She gently brushed the stone dust on the street, staring into the patterns. “I’ve suspected your intentions for a time, and I’ve . . . done nothing for it. I am sorry.”

She reached out a hand. Just before she touched him, there was a slight tremble, as if a sudden instinct was telling her to withdraw. It lasted only a second. She placed a hand on his arm. Her touch was soft and cool.

“How can I help you?” she asked.

“I don’t want your help,” Sadik replied.

She breathed out, drawing closer. “Be honest with me. Please. If I can—”

“Goddess,” he said. “Could you bring Hisana back to life?”

She shifted on her knee. There was no reply.

He gestured up to the ceiling of pipes. “Could you go to the surface, right now, and find the location where they have displayed her body? Could you attach her head back to her shoulders?” A sharpness came to his throat. “Could you put my child back in her belly?”

For a moment, he focused on her touch. The fingers on his arm. He wished he hadn’t.

“I died that night. In her chambers. When I saw her head roll across the tiles, I. . . .” He looked away. It took a moment to speak. “I’ve only lived for her sake. She would’ve wanted me to protect the city. If she was in my place, she would’ve fought for the people.” In the distance, he saw the stadium that housed all their refugees, rising above the ruins. “It’s been for her. All of this. Otherwise, I would’ve cut my throat in shame.”

He hefted his sword. He watched the light of the blade.

“I was going to be a father. I. . . .”

His voice cracked.

“I can’t do this anymore. I am tired. Tired of carrying these burdens. I have been tired for a very long time.”

Dusksong casted a light across the street. Shadows grew through the edges of rubble, the crumpled doorways and sagging walls. After a moment, he loosened his grip upon the haft, lowering the blade back to his side. The broken edge did not reach the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have grown close to you.” He tried to smile. “You reminded me of her.”

Her mouth hung open. Her eyes were wide and pleading.

“If you want to help,” Sadik said, “then you should let me die.”

“No,” Kavaia said, tightening her grip on his arm. “No, I won’t. I know your loss better than anyone. I have known millions that share your pain.” She began to tug. “Come with me. We will go somewhere secluded, somewhere far away from this war, and we may talk. Properly.” Her long fingers rubbed his skin. “Earnestly.”

Sadik looked up at the pipes. “I don’t want to talk.”

“What do the people around you want? Amira? Yasmin? Haakon? Do they want you to die? Do you think your men want to be left without a leader?”

He didn’t answer.

“Do you know how much you’re going to hurt them?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Her grip tightened on him. “Listen to me. If you refuse to talk, then I will refuse your wish. If—if you fall in battle, I will heal you. If you go to that garden, I will stay your hand. I will take you from this war and lock you in a room, if I must. I . . . I. . . .”

He leaned in, placed his hand on her shoulder, and kissed her. A wolfish mouth against an iguana snout. Due to the anatomy, it was not as tender as he had wished, but that was expected. Neither of them were who they wanted to be.

He pulled back. He looked into her eyes. And he walked away.

“Sadik!”

Her grip came undone. She stood back to her feet. There was a moment where he thought she would chase him.

“Sadik!”

He walked without looking back. Her shout echoed into the dark.

He turned the corner. He made his way toward the old mansion that had been his home, where he would make his final peace with life.

When he sheathed his sword, the light around him was gone.