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ELO REACHED ARREN ACROSS THE BLACKENED GRASS AND ash. The king was curled in a ball. There was not much blood, for his heart had been lost years before. Now, there were just embers, flickering and sparking in his chest.

‘Arren.’ Elo dragged him up. His armour was hot but, almost dead as he was, Hseth had not bothered with burning him.

‘Elo?’ Arren choked. He was still alive. Just. But beneath the burning metal of his grand armour, his skin was turning cold. The army was a mess, scattered, split and leaderless.

They had failed.

I cannot do it. Hestra’s voice was weak in Elo’s mind, barely a prickling of flame. She did not end me, but I cannot fill another rift without his power. They believe in us, not him, not me. I cannot mend him.

Here Elo was again, in his worst nightmare, with Arren dying in his arms. The last of his line, the last god of Middren.

‘The …’ Arren was trying to speak as fire rained down about them. He reached up to touch Elo’s face, ‘The … only one. Elo. You were the only one. Who truly l-loved me.’

You’re the only one who ever loved me, Elo , he had said last time he was dying. The only one who ever believed in me.

‘I’m s-sorry,’ Arren said. ‘For wasting it.’

Elo held him tightly. The fire was drying the tears on his cheeks even as they fell. A surge of flame came near them, sweeping over the grass, but didn’t quite reach them. Not yet.

It would come.

Elo closed his eyes and bent over his king. His friend. His love. His enemy. Arren’s breaths were fading. His body, so long sustained by a god’s will, was dying. The fire was closer now. Hseth was dancing after the fleeing knights, throwing fire after them up the banks of the valley.

‘We could have changed the world,’ Elo whispered to him. ‘You and I.’

The world will change without us, said Hestra. She brightened in his chest, one last moment, and then she went out.

The god was gone, and Arren died in Elo’s arms.

The burning reached them, turning the world hot and orange. It came roaring down from Hseth, and Elo closed his eyes, waiting for the end. Alone again.

The end didn’t come.

He looked up.

‘Kissen,’ he said hoarsely.

The veiga stood with two fallen shields on her back, yelling as they burned her through her wet clothes, but standing high enough that the fire spilled around them. Lessa was with her, taking shelter from the fire. She looked grim, bleeding from a burn on her arm, the flesh seared and black.

‘Run!’ cried Elo hoarsely. ‘You have to run.’

‘It’s too late for that, baker-knight,’ said Kissen. The fire passed, and she threw down the half-melted shields as Hseth turned her attention elsewhere. ‘This isn’t sacrifice. This is love.’

Lessa stood up with her. She had a knight’s blade. A briddite sword. Kissen did too.

‘Inara is safe,’ she said. ‘That’s all that matters. All that matters is our hope.’