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My stomach dropped, and I raked a hand through my hair.

Whatever protection Rythos’ presence offered us had disappeared the moment she jumped off the fucking ship.

I looked at Lyra, watching the colour drain from her face as she looked to the horizon, no doubt at the ash-coloured ships growing closer through the mist.

“He tracked me,” she whispered.

Chapter Forty-Eight

Defeat

Lyra

My body was numb. Every breath I dragged into my lungs felt heavy. Memories that felt like they didn’t belong to me flooded through my mind, fracturing my heart into a thousand pieces.

I was the monster I always feared I was… but a part of me understood the choice Maraveth had made.

“Whatever the plan is, it better happen quickly. The first ship just anchored,” Solas said.

“I need to die,” Rythos whispered, pressing his hand against the side of my face.

He said it as if his death was something I would be able to survive.

“No,” Cerilla sobbed, knees pressed against the rot-streaked marble while Bryony and Ziola held her in place. “You won’t do it, Lyra. You can’t.”

Her black hair hung in tangled strands around her face, and dried blood still stained her clothes from whatever had been done to her in the Nether. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her features, yet she thrashed against the Siren’s grips.

“It is not her choice, Cerilla, nor is it yours,” Rythos said over his shoulder, his voice sunk beneath my ribs with the weight of his decision.

Cerilla laughed, a broken, hollow sound that echoed through the temple. It sent gooseflesh racing over my skin. “You don’t understand. When I wove the throne’s essence into you, I bound it to Maraveth’s soul. She is the only one who can release it, which means she must be the one to kill you.”

Everything inside me froze.

Cerilla’s gaze shifted to mine, and the grief that carved across her face somehow deepened the panic rising in me.

“I made it that way because she would never choose anything over you. Not even the world.”

“Cerilla,” Solas murmured, looking down at where she struggled as if he didn’t recognise her anymore.

My breaths came in short bursts, and everything seemed to spin as the truth closed around my throat. I dragged in air, but none of it reached my lungs. It was as if Cerilla had reached inside my chest and wrapped her fist around my heart, squeezing until there was nothing left but pain. How could I⁠—

“A thief of divine power. A stolen soul. And the little witch who helped tear them from their rightful places.” Astaroth’s unmistakable cold voice came from everywhere at once, pressing in invasively and cutting through my panicked thoughts.

Helion flinched.

Rythos bared his canines, swinging around and landing in a lunge as if to protect me.

Even after he knew I was the reason for his miserable existence.

“Hello, vicious one.” Astaroth appeared in front of us as if he had been standing there the whole time.

Rythos lunged at him, shadows snapping viciously around him, and everything inside me tensed.

With a mere flick of Astaroth’s wrist, Rythos flew against a marble pillar and fell to the ground with a sickening thud.

Astaroth straightened the sleeve of his pristine white jacket, a small smile curving across his sharp features.

“You forget I am a god. Not a fallen god, nor a goddess who does not know her powers. I am the God of the Seven Hells, and you are the only soul that has ever escaped me.”