Page 88 of On Brutal Thrones

And somehow, Nyx has. Not just Nyx, but Fenric and Talon too. Still, Nyx is the heart of our team. I credit her with all of us being here still.

I glance back at her. She catches me looking and raises an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Your quiet looks usually mean something…”

Talon laughs quietly. “You should know by now that staring at her and saying ‘nothing’ never works.”

“I wasn’t staring.”

“You were,” Fenric says.

I ignore all three of them and face forward again, but I can hear Nyx laughing behind me.

Maybe she’s made it this far because she has something actually worth fighting for. Lyra. Maybe my previous teammates wanted the wrong things badly enough that when the Trials stripped everything else away, there was nothing left to keep them moving.

Or maybe I was the one fighting for the wrong thing.

I spent years coming back to obtain godhood. For power. For the chance to stand against my father and finally make him pay.

Now, none of that is what pulls me toward the Spire.

I want Nyx to get her sister back. I want Fenric to save his family. I want Talon to have a life that belongs to him again. More than anything, I want all four of us to walk out of these Trials together.

They’re my family now. The realization doesn’t frighten me anymore.

I can see us around a table at Nyx’s manor, drinking and laughing. Fenric surrounded by the family he misses so much. Talon making some ridiculous comment purely to annoy me. Nyx smiling across the table at all of us.

I can see our wedding. Taking turns dancing with her. Waking beside her years from now with the Trials so far behind us they’ve become stories we tell.

Once, I couldn’t have imagined wanting any of it.

Now, I can’t imagine wanting anything else.

The forest thickens as we walk. Massive trunks rise around us, disappearing into a canopy so dense that sunlight reaches the ground in scattered green shafts. Pine needles soften our footsteps, and after the smoke and scorched earth of camp, every breath feels unnaturally clean. The air is cool and damp, heavy with pine sap, moss, and rich soil.

Nyx seems better too.

Not well. None of us are. There are dark circles beneath her eyes, and exhaustion still drags at her steps. She keeps glancing down at the ground, as though she expects it to disappear beneath her feet again. Every few steps, her gaze moves over the three of us before her hand returns to the hilt of her dagger.

The third time she checks it, Talon notices.

“Your blade hasn’t disappeared yet.”

Nyx gives him a look. “Neither did the last one until it did.”

“Fair point.”

Her fingers close around the hilt again anyway.

I understand the impulse. My sword bumps steadily against my hip with every step, and I’m acutely aware of its weight.

I don’t trust it.

The golden weapons appeared in the middle of the field, where either team could have claimed them. Then regular steel weapons were given to us. Two gifts, and no way to know who sent either one. Perhaps Soryn gave us our weapons. Perhaps she left the golden ones, and my father arranged for us to recover these.