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“Not from your sister.”

The Serpent reacted—lunging its body toward Neir, but not before Jarek’s fear caused him to hesitate. Neir caught his rush with his free hand, trapping him in place.

“You had the right idea the first time,” Neir said, voice strained from holding Jarek back. “Is it that fallen god stealing your sense or is it its animalistic tendencies?” Jarek pushed against Neir’s power, but he was locked in place. The Stalker advanced slowly, raising the sword. “I’ve heard how ruined blades work but haven’t seen it for myself. Rumor is it inflicts damage the Diseased soul can’t heal.” The tip of the blade prodded gently at Jarek’s chest. “Bringing you back down to our level.”

Sweat dripped down Jarek’s forehead at the sight of it. He was so close, and this was the only thing outside of Lilith that would be his undoing.

He couldn’t die. Didn’t want to die. Not here. Not like this. Not before he set the Pantheon right. Not before he knew Lilith would be safe.

The Serpent welled its energy, and with both of their strengths, Jarek jerked himself backwards—breaking his right shoulder, and himself, out of Neir’s hold.

Shuddering fire, first from the pain then the healing, ran through his limb. He grabbed Neir’s wrist, twisting it until the sword clattered to the floor.

Neir elbowed him in the chest, but Jarek didn’t budge. He fought against his adversaries thrashing, bending his arm until he heard it snap. Neir cried out, and shoved Jarek away with his power. Jarek was on him again quickly, ducking and evading as Neir struggled to catch up.

He slid close to Neir who threw a punch. Jarek blocked high, wearing him down with quick blows to the ribs and chest, taking advantage of his agility against Neir’s brawn.

A light appeared at the end of Neir’s sleeve.

Skilled as he may be, Jarek couldn’t defend against solidified light this close.

Jarek tackled Neir against the counter. Gripping his neck and shoulder, Jarek spun him around, slamming his back to the floor.

The Serpent’s energy tore through him ferociously—a flooding river out of control. Jarek fought the current, hanging onto himself even as Neir struggled for air. “Who has that wretched fucking god that created you?”

Surely Neir tasted death, but he still kept his emotions tucked away. “I’ll have to apologize to… Lilith, was it?” He exhaled. “This hurts.”

Red consumed Jarek’s vision, pulse pounding in his ears.

“Oh, she didn’t tell you?” Neir clicked his tongue. “I was hoping I left more of an impression.”

Jarek lifted and slammed Neir’s head down, cracking the wood underneath. “Last chance!”

“You know him.” Neir coughed. “You used to.”

“Who!”

“You don’t see the resemblance?”

Jarek faltered, the sound of stifled sobs behind him suddenly loud. A mass of curly hair. Golden eyes.

He looks so much like—

A lead weight dropped to the pit of his stomach, mind splaying in directions it couldn’t—refused—to tread. Neir couldn’t be talking about Luka, but it was all he could think about.

“A name,” Jarek breathed. “Give me a—”

Pain clouded his vision. Hot, familiar.

Standing, Jarek reached a hand over his shoulder and ripped the ruined blade from his back. He recoiled, sending it clattering to the floor after it left a smoking sear along his palm. He shot his gaze to a woman backing toward the entrance of the inn.

Mia?

“About time,” Neir said with a groan.

Jarek was shoved backward with enough force to crash into the wall. He crumpled to the floor. The gleam of the ruined blade broke through the dark, straight into his shoulder. It pierced through him and into the wood, pinning him in place with radiating fire.

Neir waited before speaking, never taking his eyes off of Jarek. “You’re sure she’s here?”