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Perhaps this was always how it was meant to end for him.

Once, he had Intelligentsia sages who made all the decisions for him. Once, he had Belorme.

And now it was just him. Xerxes was alone, again. Only this time, he was more alone than before because he didn’t even have his voices.

“Xerxes. Open your eyes.”

He peeled his eyelids apart, seeing bright speckles of morning breaking into camp with the dawn.

Snake-like shadows slithered across the uneven ground amidst the battle, crawling up soldiers’ legs. Xerxes’s brows furrowed as he stared at the creatures. He rubbed his eyes, sand grinding against them. Divinities, he was delusional. He pulled his burning gaze around to any Division One soldiers he could identify still standing. Men and women who should have had futures. Lives he was responsible for.

A flash of gold appeared at the top of the hill past the dull, dwindling camp. Muted sounds of battle around Xerxes crisped to real noises, real shouts. Colours became more vibrant as his senses returned, his gaze dragging up the hill where the flash came from.

He thought someone yelled, “Reinforcements have arrived!”

The top of the hill rippled with movement, and Xerxes’s eyes narrowed on an assembly in navy appearing over the ridge in army formations.

“The Gold Maiden is here!” A soldier’s muffled words lifted over the combat.

Xerxes blinked five times and the navy army was still there. His jaw dropped, his mind racing back to that one single messenger on horseback who’d made it past the B’rei Mira archers into the desert.

He sat up on his heels, staring at a bright figure in gold armour, a long, dark braid cascading over her shoulder beside a pointed mask on her face. The sun spilt over the mountains, piercing her with a blade of light as she descended the hill with hundreds of Per-Siana soldiers at her sides. Xerxes’s dry, cracked lips parted. It was real—there really was an army coming. There really was a maiden in gold there leading them. A large flag was hoisted through the air behind her with a black inscription that said: BURN DIVISION XII.

The Gold Maiden drew her sword, and Xerxes watched in amazement as soldiers around her followed suit. B’rei Mira warriors turned on the newcomers. They tried to charge as the fresh Per-Siana divisions attacked. The Gold Maiden leapt in like a spirit, sailing between them with a blade faster than anything Xerxes had ever seen.

“Open your eyes.”

Xerxes smacked the side of his head. “Quiet!” he commanded. But when he blinked, he saw a flash of light on the maiden’s sword, a burst of white flame that slashed through one of the dark snake-like shadows. He inhaled as a shadow swept by his shoulder, then another over his head, drawing his gaze up to the sky where an enormous black cloud roiled overhead, a deep growl of thunder within it unlike anything he’d seen or heard before.

It was just for a second. Xerxes blinked and the vision was gone, the sky back to an early morning pink, all serpentine shadows vanished from the battle.

He returned his gaze to the Gold Maiden, a metallic glow hardly visible now amidst the rippling crowd. The burning light had left her sword; she was back to being a soldier, moving through the B’rei Mira hoard like a hero of old from Per-Siana lore. Xerxes dragged himself to stand as he watched her slide on a knee through the sand, slash, roll, and come back on her feet so fast she couldn’t possibly be human.

Divinities have mercy… The Gold Maiden could be a god. A god fighting for Per-Siana—an incarnation of one of the Weylin gods. Or perhaps she was a Jinn, or a witch, or… anything.

He didn’t care. He didn’t care what she was. The Gold Maiden was living up to every rumour whispered about her before his eyes. A well of hope he didn’t know he was allowed to have gushed into his chest as she left a trail of bodies behind her at such a terrifying speed, he was glad he wasn’t wearing scarlet.

A B’rei Mira archer rose above the hoard onto a rock, aiming a red-feathered arrow at her back. Xerxes’s legs jerked into motion. He shoved a warrior out of his way as he sprinted across the camp, and when the B’rei Mira arrow released, it made a crisp ‘ting’ sound off Xerxes’s sword as he swept in and blocked it.

Even though the cliffside boomed with noise, and she was ten feet away, the Gold Maiden froze. Like she heard it.

The reinforcements flooded the camp around Xerxes, pressing a dent of navy blue into the scattered force of red. The Gold Maiden didn’t charge with them. She turned slowly, her mask aiming in Xerxes’s direction and staying there.

His brows came together as he wondered what had happened to her godlike demeanour from a second ago. She looked like a criminal now, caught stealing or some other outrageous thing. Perhaps she didn’t realize who he was. Xerxes pulled his scarf down. When he did, at least seven Per-Siana soldiers gasped and fell into formation around him, sealing him in a net of safety.

Still, the maiden stood motionless. Her division in tattered beige clothes threw down enemies around her in an uncoordinated shuffle that made Xerxes wonder how they ever won a battle like the reports claimed, but she still stood there, a gilded idol in the middle of a war who seemed to have no fear of someone sneaking up on her from behind.

Xerxes wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or terrified. Or jealous. He scratched the back of his head as he considered his dehydrated state and that only a fool would feel jealous. But he eyed her as she stood in silence, considering it perhaps wasn’t a foolish thought at all. He should be wary of someone this powerful in his ranks. Someone with this much influence. Someone who could stage an uprising and overthrow him if she wanted.

She could probably take Per-Siana.

Divinities, what was he even thinking? What a strange, paranoid thought. He should have died today. Per-Siana might have fallen today if she and the other reinforcements hadn’t come.

Xerxes rubbed his temple and bit his lips as he tried to remember what that messenger had said this maiden’s name was. Was it… Commander Adella? Adora? Some woman-name.

The Gold Maiden stole a bow from a man in her division, the sudden movement making Xerxes jump. She loaded and aimed it—at Xerxes. Xerxes went rigid.

She wouldn’t actually—