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An island consumed with waves.

A woman covered in flames, burning the island with the man at her feet.

“But the mortals do not.” Chronira tears her gaze away from the endless outcomes. “They’ve lost their knowledge. And the gods want to keep it that way.”

Chronir exhales, crossing his arms as he relents. “And will you share with the gods the secret you’ve been keeping?”

“There are always consequences.” Chronira stares at the growing stack of what-ifs. There’s more now, due to her brother’s question. “That might be of great benefit. To see what is yet to come.”

As the currents of water swirl anew, the boundaries of time bend, and with it, a whisper of fate shifts around them. The Gods of Time prepare for whatever tumultuous possibilities lie ahead. It is time to intervene.

Too far. I’ve come too fucking far to die today.

I’m pinned to the ground, unable to move. The darkness at the edges of my vision transforms into a void, blotting out everything except Lark’s desperate face. My lungs burn for air that won’t come. A blur of motion comes into view.

Beady black eyes. Smooth, scaly body. Razor-sharp teeth.

A snakelike creature, thicker than a human, crushes me, cutting off my air. A rugeru. Zeru’s hideous monsters.

The creature opens its mouth. Wider. Then even wider. Dozens of hissing black snakes spew from the rugeru’s mouth.

They slither as one toward Lark and block her way to me.

Lark’s mouth forms my name, her eyes blazing gold with desperate fury. She carves through a mass of the writhing horrors, her fire consuming everything in her path.

The flames don’t burn her. Rather, she becomes the flames.

Agnar sprints behind her, hair matted with sweat and something darker, less human. His face contorts with effort as he splits the earth to clear Lark’s path.

He stumbles.

A claw-like appendage from a creature I can’t see slashes across his thigh. Suddenly vulnerable, he falls face first, arms flailing.

Bastian’s head whips around, his expression frozen in horror as a barbed beast lunges toward Agnar.

Leesa, sweat pouring down her face, draws an arrow from her quiver and nocks it with fluid precision.

I swallow hard, my memory shifting to my mother’s crumpled form in the courtyard. The thought comes with perfect clarity as the edges of my world collapse inward.

My screaming lungs spasm and pull. Nothing happens.

No air.

Black serpentine eyes are still locked on me.

Then the pressure vanishes.

Air rushes into my starved lungs. I suck in a ragged breath. Then another. Each desperate gasp is more painful than the last. The arena tilts and sways around me.

Through watering eyes, I get a glimpse of the dead rugeru that grappled me.

Someone stands between me and the creature.

“Rivlan.” The word is torn from my abused throat.

The god turns, fierce determination carved into every line of his face. “Get up. This battle has only just begun.”

My shock rattles through the temporary, merge-induced connection, jolting everyone.