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“Now, was that really so hard?” Aiden tossed the broken stem away. “Plus, I can see you’ve done your research. I’m impressed. My siblings worked very hard to remove my name from history.”

Indeed, it had taken forever to find it. Taly had scoured every book in the townhouse library and most of the local bookstores. She’d only stumbled upon it by accident. Not in text but written in the margin next to a story about how the Judge was cast out of eternity.

Beware the one they call Aneirin. For his soul is as black as night, and his power knows no bounds.

Taly’s breath hitched, a primal fear taking hold. An instinctual response to being in the presence of the devil himself. Even the shadows seemed to recoil, curling away from the sheerwrongnessof him.

Beside her, Aimee began to murmur. Her words were shaky, barely audible, but they carried a familiar rhythm.

“O Magnus, guardian of the realms, shine thy divine light upon us in our need. Six who shattered, grant us the strength to face the shadows—”

“And the wisdom to see the path ahead, the courage to stand against evil, blah, blah, blah.” Aneirin laughed. “You see, I can also recite scripture. Doesn’t mean it will do anything. You can’t exorcise what underpins your existence. I wasn’t born of faith or fear—I simplyam.”

Aimee snarled and pounded her fists against the bed. She couldn’t attack—it was her brother. All she could do was watch, tears burning her eyes, as he turned back to Taly, seizing the ropes.

They snapped, leaving her hands bound, but her feet free.

Without a word, he hauled her off the bed, dragging her like a broken doll toward the tent’s exit.

The sudden assault of light made her squint, her vision swimming as the world beyond came into focus.

Red dirt all around.

Distant mountains of metal and scrap rose to meet the sky.

And between them stood legions of undead soldiers, their ranks impossibly precise—an unbroken wall held in rigid formation before the looming specter of the Aion Gate.

Its colossal structure stretched so high, it vanished into the storm-dark clouds above. The surface swirled with light, shifting endlessly.

The surrounding energy was electric. Taly’s skin crawled as the hair on her arms bristled.

She was vaguely aware of Aimee being tossed through the tent flap behind her by a dark-robed figure. She stumbled over her skirts.

“Do you have any idea, Taly, what it’s like to be painted as the villain in your own story?” Aiden- no,Aneirinshoved her roughly over the uneven ground. “To be cast out and betrayed by those who should have been your allies? They tell stories of my fall, of how I was cast down for my arrogance. But they never mention the truth. That it wastheywho betrayedme. My brothers and sisters. Myfamily,” he spat. “They sought to suppress my light because it impeded their ability to do whatever they pleased.”

The air reeked of decay as Aneirin pushed her past the rows of undead soldiers standing silently at attention. Milkyeyes stared from sunken sockets, following her with disquieting focus.

“I was the‘Judge,’you see. The one put in charge of reining in my siblings’ baser instincts. Lachesis wanted a race of prophesying genies—I said‘Okay.’ When Theia wanted her Nephilim, I was the one who had to tell her, ‘They look a little creepy, but, sure, we’ll just put them on the outer edges of the universe where no one has to look at them.’

“The Fey,” he said. “Well, that was a joint project. They wanted something beautiful to serve them in their resplendent palaces.”

Where were the Gate Watchers? It was a question Taly had been asking herself. Her stomach twisted when she realized the answer.

Beyond the assembly of soldiers, the fallen mages were laid out in rows. Limbs stiff and eyes vacant, their chests gaped open where their hearts had been taken. Soon, they would rise to serve a new, terrible purpose.

“As long as I saidyes, they were happy,” Aneirin said as he continued to march her forward. “But the moment I saidno—no, they couldn’t have their own personal sun because it would collapse a corner of space and time, or that cultivating grief as a renewable power source seemed inherently unethical—then suddenlyI’mthe bad guy. Have you ever seen a divine throw a tantrum? Lots ofdoomandthunder. It’s not pretty.”

He stopped, yanking Taly around to face him, his expression a mix of fury and a twisted kind of triumph. “That’s why history is so important. Because without it, any asshole can say whatever he pleases, and everyone forgets that the so-called‘Sacred Six’are nothing more than lazy, spoiledparasiteswhostolemy power.I’mthe villain now, the devil in their tales. Those fools thought they coulderase me. They thought themselvesbeyond judgment, but there is no escape. My vengeance will bring this world back to its rightful order.”

Then his eyes—Aiden’s eyes—glanced past her. “You remember my sister.”

In the center of the camp was a rock. A very large, very ordinary rock made of gold, translucent crystal that caught the light, refracting it in myriad directions. Its surface was rough and jagged. But as Taly looked closer, she felt a distinctpull.

Not like the bond—this was stronger. More visceral. This pull redirected the axis of her gravity.

She shuffled a step forward. Not by choice. That pull was a call, vibrating through her bones, stirring something older than memory.

Her magic reached back, threading through time, drawn to the primal forces that had shaped it.