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“Your lightning,” Bryce said quickly. “It warped stone earlier when you shot it at Polaris. Do you think it can warp crystal?” They stood about thirty feet above the glowing core below. To even get through that block of crystal, they’d need precious, uninterrupted minutes. She’d thought her starfire could eventually chisel away at it, but they didn’t have the luxury of time.
“I need a good shot at the floor—a few, probably,” Hunt said, as Rigelus attacked once more. Again, Bryce teleported. “Can you buy me time?”
Her mouth had dried out, and blood was dribbling from her nose again, but she nodded.
“What is it you’re whispering?” Rigelus said calmly from where he stood in front of the pipes, but Bryce teleported them again.
They appeared right in front of Rigelus, and from his shocked face, he hadn’t expected that. No, he’d thought her power tapped out.
The distraction cost him.
Hunt’s Helfire slammed into the crystal floor. Bryce didn’t wait to see what happened, how Rigelus reacted, before teleporting them back to the center of the room, and Hunt’s Helfire boomed as it collided with the stone, which had indeed warped, and was now splintering under the monstrous heat.
Crystal peeled away, melting.
And beneath it, a tunnel to the core of firstlight began to form.
* * *
The Eternal City was a chaos of brimstone missiles, mech-suits, demons, the Asterian Guard, and every imaginable nightmare. Light and darkness warred across every inch of the city.
But Ithan sprinted through the streets, heading toward the crystal palace. Toward the white light flashing from it like some massive strobe.
It had to be Bryce. But the palace was massive, as big as the Comitium, and to find her in it …
No one had answered his phone calls. With the battle, he didn’t think they would, but he’d kept trying, all the way here on the boat he’d quickly hired, then running from the coast without rest, without food or water.
A brimstone missile sailed overhead, sparking with golden light. It hit a building nearby, and the world ruptured.
Even Ithan, with his speed and grace, was thrown. His bones cracked against the building, the Godslayer Rifle swinging from his shoulder. And something else had cracked behind him, not bone but—
Ithan slid to the ground among the screaming people, reaching for his pack. Frantically, he pulled out the container with the vials of antidote for Bryce and Hunt.
Liquid leaked from them. Only shards of the vials remained.
Tharion had more, but Luna knew where the mer was in this mess. The rifle, at least, was unharmed—scraped up along the barrel, but nothing that would affect its usefulness.
He struggled to his feet, but a strong hand gripped him. Helped him up.
Ithan whirled, teeth out, only to find a human woman standing there, her eyes blazing with determination. And behind her, helping the wounded or running for the battle, were more humans. Some in their work clothes, some unarmed, but all heading for the conflict. For this first and possibly last shot against the Asteri.
And he knew. Bryce’s message hadn’t only been a distraction for the Asteri. It had been a rallying cry. For the people who had suffered most at the Asteri’s hands.
So Ithan began hurtling for the palace again. Past all those humans, valiantly helping and fighting—despite the odds, despite the cost. The antidotes for his friends were gone. But he still had the rifle and its bullet.
Make your brother proud.
* * *
Lidia didn’t bother with bullets. She holstered her gun and drew her sword.
She knew the odds against Pollux. But she’d been studying him for years now. Had learned his moves, his arrogance, his tricks.
She hadn’t let him learn hers.
So Lidia glanced sidelong at Ruhn and said, “Get out of here. This is between him and me.”
She wanted nothing to do with Ruhn. He’d shot her—he’d shot her, in some male fit of dominance, and it had kept her from her sons. She’d never forgive him—
