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But his attention snaps to the chains weighing down my wrists instead. The look on his face is a brutal map of contradictions: There is raw, unbearable agony, the kind familiar only to those who have been flayed alive; there is a vindictive rage that could make the greatest armies abandon their swords and flee in terror; and yet, there is also exquisite, blazing tenderness. Just as there was no upper limit to the pain from before, there seems no limit to the devotion in his gaze. I am convinced, then, that he would have turned over the Heavens and walked through the underworld just to find me.

Without another word, he lifts the chains in his hands, then squeezes. There’s a thunderous cracking sound, like a tree felled by a heavy axe. Then the chains split apart and clank to the platform. The glow has faded entirely, so the array looks no different from ordinary stone.

“Death.” The Celestial Emperor’s fury is tangible, thundering through the clouds. “You dare intervene?”

Keran doesn’t even look up. His eyes are steady on me, his power darkening the air around him like water spilling onto cloth.

“Don’t think I won’t punish you both,” the Celestial Emperor warns.

Still he says nothing. He just brushes my hair back carefully from my cheeks.

Light cracks over the clouds, and a thousand golden arrows gleam into being, shooting from every direction. Seconds before they reach us, Keran pulls me tight to his chest and lifts his left hand. A crimson, translucent barrier forms around our bodies. The arrows only make ripples across the barrier when they crash against its impenetrable surface, like raindrops splashing down on a river.

Another round of arrows sails toward us, but the barrier holds strong.

“It’s going to be okay,” Keran tells me, his thumb brushing my cheek, erasing the pain. “It’s only the emperor. What can he do?”

I let myself believe him.

For a moment, I really believe that we can survive this. The arrows must stop eventually. The other gods must tire. He will fight the Celestial Emperor if he must; he will fight them all, and with my remaining strength, I will fight by his side.

Then darkness falls over us.

A rumbling sound fills the realms, the clouds gathering fast, the wind picking up into a wild screech. I’m tempted to think it’s the Celestial Emperor’s doing, but when I squint up, through the reddish haze of the barrier, I see his grand carriage emerge, the servants hurriedly slamming the doors shut. My stomach goes cold with understanding. The only thing that could scare even the Celestial Emperor into hiding is the wrath of the Heavens.

When the storm comes, I think not of the end of the world but the very beginning of it. The origins of every myth, the dark time that preceded the birth of the gods. Back when everything had yet to take form, when the sky hung over the earth like the gloom of a cavern, when chaos rippled and flowed through the center of the universe and anything alive disappeared into the voids. That is how it feels now, with the clouds swirling overhead like giant eddies: like all that we have created in the billions of years since is disintegrating, like the past is swallowing up the present, a nine-headed snake striking out from the Heavens with its mouths open wide, the black of its throats exposed.

When the first spear of lightning hits the barrier, I feel the air tremble, threatening to give way.

Keran raises his hand higher, power flaring from his palms, but it’s no use. The instant the barrier solidifies, more lightning cracks against it. The strikes are too fast, too deliberate, aimed perfectly at me. Soon, the barrier fissures, then fractures completely—

Just as lightning slices down in a perfect, blinding streak.

But before I can even brace myself for the blaze of pain, Keran wraps both his arms around me and forces me out of the way. I feel it, the moment the lightning hits his back. He stifles a gasp. The impact is such that the tremors spread from him to my bones, reverberating through my teeth. The air smells like it’s been lit on fire. Yet instead of flinching away, he holds me tighter, holds me as if he has no intention of letting go in this life.

I try to struggle against him, but it’s no use. His hand is pressed to the space between my shoulder blades, his other hand stroking my hair.

“Have you lost your mind?” I cry. “Let go Keran—don’t do this—”

“It’s all right,” he murmurs. “It’s all right—”

“It’s not—”

“Don’t worry. I can take it.”

Another strike of lightning. He absorbs it in full, like he did last time, his body shuddering.

No.

I shove him with all my strength and manage to catch a glimpse of his face. His complexion is pale as bone, his hair damp with sweat. Dark red blood glistens at the corner of his mouth. When the lightning hits him again, his eyes squeeze shut, his face twisting with silent, resigned pain. I feel it lance through my own heart, an echo of his agony. I’m afraid I might shatter.

“Stop this, Keran.” I’m sobbing, my voice hoarse and raw with tears, my eyes stinging. My thoughts are incoherent, a frantic, spiraling mass of fears. My breaths stutter past my quivering lips. “Please.” Lightning leaps from the vortex of clouds, each crack of thunder so loud it sounds like whips splitting through the Heavens, like the skies are being cleaved in two. The entire realm is smothered black, punctuated by flashes of white.

Keran pulls me back to him, nestling his chin against my shoulder as if we are somewhere safe and hidden away, as if the rest of the universe doesn’t exist to him. His blood seeps through my robes. “This will be over soon,” he insists in a ragged whisper. “This will all pass. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

But it will never be over if I stay alive.

I know that. I’ve known that for almost as long as I’ve loved him—I only wish I had more time. I wish I could have prepared myself better for this, told him everything I wanted, except I would never be fully prepared. I will always be greedy for more. I will always want to wait before I make the final move. Before I play one final trick on him.