“Stand with you? Trust Samantha? Karl,” Aurora panted, arms and legs shaking as she tried to get up, but stumbling. For once, she didn’t use sarcasm as a defense. “She killed people. A lot of people. For fun. Back then you saw that my terror tactics were staged. Nobody was executed. And when I started, people stopped fighting each other to focus on me. You knew I donned the crown unwillingly to drag their hatred away from each other. To keep the peace. And still you stand with her?”

Karl laughed. “You think that matters? No. You sat on a throne and made yourself the god of cruelty. That’s no different from him.” He spat the word, balling his hands into fists to keep them from trembling.

Aurora opened her mouth to retort when a raw voice cut through the clamor. “Karl, stop!” Julius yelled. “I know you hate them. I know you’re afraid. And I know you want revenge, but it isn’t this.” His gaze tore toward Samantha, who waved, looking radiant in the moonlight. “How is she the better alternative? To get even with Milo? No! She’ll consume you!”

The water at Karl’s feet trembled and rose with his anger. He saw the heartbreak in Julius’ eyes. He hesitated, then hardened.

“Julius,” He muttered. “I was younger than Amy when Milo played me like a piece on his board.”

He closed his eyes briefly before looking straight at Aurora, eyes full of hate, and his voice loud and steady. “My mother died because of both of you. You call your throne sacrifice, just like you called my mother a sacrifice for the ‘greater good.’ But it’s the same lie, just like always. It’s one person deciding for everyone else.” He sniffed and straightened. “But now someone’s offering me the power to change things,” Aurora opened her mouth but shut it, tilting her head and looking at the ground. Karl continued, voice a whisper. “You only told me what to do. I’ve spent ten years trying to tear down your tyranny. Now, I won’t stop until you’re gone.”

His eyes locked with Aurora’s, hard and cold, before drifting to Samantha with a slow, terrible clarity.

“And Milo. When he comes back — because he always fucking does — I’ll be there. And he’ll kneel. Not as a god. Not as a monster. But as a man on the ground, choking on the blood of what he did to me.”

The ground shuddered as Thomas struck against the surge of Samantha’s soldiers. He was strong, holding his own. Fire and ice tore the trees apart, his men falling one by one to keep the tide back.

He was a wall, but even walls cracked.

And every soldier he couldn’t hold back was aiming for Aurora, the fallen empress.

Karl stepped closer, sharing a nod with Samantha. He looked at the kids.

Princessa’s hand wavered and she stepped back, face drained. Libbet’s eyes slid to Samantha, calculation and aspiration flickering where loyalty should have been. At Amy’s side, shadows leaked faintly from her fingers as her anticipation heightened, unnoticed in the chaos.

Libbet locked eyes with Karl, a greedy grin spreading on her face. She turned, eyes wide with glee. “Amy,” she said with a strange, fatal calm, “I’ve always hated you.” And she punched Amy’s cheek, Amy’s head snapping sideways as she fell.

Aurora, finally not staggering, tackled the older girl in a blur of motion. Libbet and Aurora hit the dirt, rolling, wrestling. Aurora would have naturally won, with decades of combat experience, but her muscles were failing. Behind them, Julius fought to carve a path toward them, unsure whether to run to Karl or Amy.

Amy pushed up. “Mom!”

“Run, Amy!” Aurora yelled, through gritted teeth. “I can hold them.”

It smelled of something burning.

“Libbet!” Princessa gasped in shock. She shook Amy’s shoulders. “Amy, listen to Aurora and run with me.”

“No!” Amy shoved her and ran toward her mother, who had untangled from Libbet. “I won’t—”

Samantha laughed at Aurora’s resolve. “Still got fight in you? I thought you were about to drop dead.”

“Amy,” Aurora hissed, planting herself between her daughter and the enemies. Her breath came ragged, but steady. Amy’s hands shook, wisps of black static hissing across her skin. She clenched her fists, willing it to stop. She didn’t trust what would happen if it broke loose.

“They can break me, burn me, bury me — but not you. Believe it or not, but you are my everything. And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you you didn’t matter. You do. I was heartbroken losing you. So much so I had to tell myself I didn’t want you. And when you came back, you are what I pretended didn’t exist in this world: a goodness that refuses to die. And that still terrifies me. So run. Live.”

But Amy didn’t move.

Samantha attacked harder, light crackling through the darkness. Everyone stared at the fallen empress. Aurora’s second wind was amazing as she gave everything and more to protect Amy. She not only fought off Samantha, but now Libbet and Karl.

“Amy, let’s go!” Princessa shrieked. “She can’t win. We don’t have time!”

“No!” Amy roared, flinging dark magic with all her energy.

Chains lashed past Aurora. Karl’s torrent thundered down beside them. Julius was shouting Karl’s name, Princessa yelled her name, and Libbet advanced toward Aurora. The pressure broke her fingers open, black sparks flying, with murderous intent.

Karl hissed, getting knocked back slightly. Samantha swatted it away like a fly. But Amy’s attack got Libbet, who fell onto the ground, motionless.

“Libbet!” Amy screamed. She looked at her hands. Oh no…is she—

Her dark ice crawled into the ground, the mud spreading and crystallizing.

“Karl!” Julius’ shout cracked with anguish. He caught his lover’s arm before Karl could surge again. “Look at what you’re becoming! You begged me to believe in you. Don’t make me watch you turn into her.”

Samantha’s eyes flickered to Amy, lashing chains her way.

But before Amy was struck, Aurora shoved her — hard. Amy flew away from Samantha’s chains, and Aurora barely rolled out of the way.

And Karl fired, ice slicing Aurora’s cheek. Aurora barely winced.

Her mother’s face was guzzling blood, her body exhausted, but she still moved like a revenant of spite and fear.

Fear for me…

“Run. You’re being stupid. Are you going to die with me? Just listen to me!” Aurora begged.

“This is harder than need be,” Samantha muttered, eyes narrowing at Aurora’s newfound strength. She slowed, wiping sweat from her brow. She leaned toward Karl, whispering something too low to catch. Aurora swayed, vision blackening, but kept her eyes locked on the mad goddess.

Amy balled her fists, her dark magic crackling.

For the second time, she had a dark thought. She would kill Samantha if she had to.

She thought of Kristo dying atop the hill by the ocean.

Her eyes never left Samantha’s face.

Samantha and Karl huddled together then nodded, the same wicked smile ghosting their lips.

And then it happened.

Aurora blinked through smoke and sweat. Her knees trembled, every nerve raw, but still she dragged herself upright, shielding Amy with the tatters of her strength.

Samantha’s lashes lowered in feigned fatigue, chains sagging like dead weight.

“She’s toying with me,” Aurora rasped, throwing light in a shaky arc. Karl’s water devoured it whole.

The tide rose again, a wall of water crashing against her magic. Samantha’s grin widened.

“Karl!” Julius’s voice ripped from the battlefield, strangled with grief. But he was pushed back by the soldiers. His fire arm faltered mid-swing. “What are you planing?”

For a heartbeat Karl hesitated. Then Samantha flicked her wrist, and the chains snapped taut — not at Aurora but past her, curling for Amy.

And Amy returned fire.

Aurora lunged, screaming until her throat tore, in between the crossfire.

She saw the killing strike arcing down, dreadful and absolute, her daughter’s strike coming for her back.

“No!” Amy’s voice cracked like glass. She tried to hurl herself forward to shield Aurora in return, body a blur, dark magic sparking uncontrolled. But she couldn’t. She was too late.

Too slow.

And —

The world snapped.

A bone-shattering crack split the air.

She heard Thomas shout from somewhere. Julius cried Karl’s name again, this time broken, almost unrecognizable. Samantha’s crazed eyes widened in shock.

And Amy staggered, reaching blindly. Her vision tunneled, black edges closing in. She couldn’t see who had fallen.

Only the sound remained. The crack.