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Behind the mound of debris, Thorne Darkwing stood with a broad smile on his face.

“My ladies,” he offered Runa and her projected selves a courtly bow, then darted away.

With another clap of her hands, the sorceress dissolved her illusion, leaving one of her. Well, one original and one composed of sand.

Manipulative bastard. It would take more than that for Thorne to weasel his way into the sorceress’s good graces. I turned to her to confirm as much, only to find her smiling at theshifter’s retreating form. Before I could remind her of where her loyalties lay, Kronk’s hoarse bellow rang out.

“Runa, my sister. Forgive me,” Kronk cried.

Across the ground, a sandy replica of Runa’s head rolled before stopping at our feet.

The flesh and blood Runa gaped at me, swallowing with an audible gulp. “That is disturbing in so many ways.”

“I had no choice.” Kronk staggered to her side, wrapping her in a hug and hoisting her up.

She grunted in her brother’s tight grip. “Forgiven.”

“Release her, Kronk. Before you break her as well,” I ordered.

The athos let go of his sister, dropping her to the ground where she wobbled before straightening.

“What do you think?” Drazen joined us, gesturing to his mirror-self, whose sandy proportions were now frozen in place. The heat of the infernus’s flames had turned it to glass. “Quite the work of art, if I do say so myself. Maybe Idris will let me keep him.”

“Fates forbid we have to deal with two of you,” Runa snapped.

Around us, several of the competitors continued to struggle against their sandy selves. I noted quite a few had fallen in the battle.

Horns blared.

The signal, while a relief, also stirred a new wave of dread. It was time for the second phase of the trial. I heaved a growling sigh, muttering to my team, “Here we go. Be prepared for anything.”

The king moved to the head of his pavilion, gesturing grandly. “Good people of Carcerem. First, our competitors faced the worst of our kind. Next, they will face the best.” Again, the queen placed her hand on his shoulder. Golden light blasted fromhis raised palms. Fiery sparks nipped at my flesh as the king’s power washed over me.

“What do you suppose he means by that?” Drazen asked, legs braced, ready to defend himself.

Before anyone could answer, the earth trembled. Along the outer wall of the arena were a dozen statues of Carcerem’s fallen heroes. Their chiseled forms stood three stories high. Stone cracked like lightning striking overhead. The towering giants broke free of their bases. Their powerful bodies stormed into the pit.

Heavy footsteps trembled through the ground. Beside me, Drazen stared at the massive defenders, mouth gaping. “He’s got to be kidding.”

“Afraid not,” Runa groaned.

“How the hell are we going to defeat giants made of rock?” the infernus asked.

“We don’t,” I said. “All we need to do is to stay alive until the clock counts down.”

“Right.” She nodded. “Keep moving. Don’t get squished. This should be fun.”

Contestants raced around the pit, screaming as the beasts pounded their way across the sand. One of the giants raised its mighty boot, slamming it down on a horned male who wasn’t as fast as the others.

Gagging sounds parted Runa’s lips, and her complexion turned pale. One giant in particular fixed his stony gaze on us. His marble lips curled. The earth shook as his charging strides threatened to knock us off our feet.

Kronk narrowed his eyes at the statue. “Isn’t that—”

“Morpheus, champion of the Battle of Dorbron. Flark. Here he comes.” Drazen set off with Kronk at his side.

Runa and I kept pace with her brothers. Clouds of dust kicked up from our pounding heels.

I peered back at our assailant. The towering hero raised themighty sword he held, swinging it as though he swatted flies.