“We’ve got no more room, Vayra!” Captain Pels called from the Harmony’s quarterdeck. “It’s now or never!”

  Flaming rock debris, bone shards, and Ko-Ganall flesh rained down on the interior of the central island. With each impact, the ground shuddered, and the waves in the harbour sloshed higher. Water washed across the wharf, knocking straggling civilians to their feet and dragging them off to the sea.

  Vayra gaped, and her hands trembled. There were still thousands ashore who wouldn’t get on a ship.

  “Vayra, either we save what we can, or they all die!” Glade yelled.

  She bit back an angry shout, then sprinted back to the Harmony and leapt to the quarterdeck. Glade followed right behind. They landed near the stern, on a patch of deck where they weren’t about to crush anyone beneath them.

  Their presences made the mortals around them physically uncomfortable. She didn’t need to be in their minds to see that. Her spiritual power weighed them down and made it hard for them to breathe. She veiled herself, and Glade did the same, restricting their power and lessening the pressure they exerted, but it wasn’t perfect.

  For a moment, she hesitated. Maybe there was something more. If they rallied all the other Gods, then flew up to the upper atmosphere, maybe they could destroy the horde.

  ‘The clash will still destroy the planet,’ Phasoné said. ‘You know this. Run!’

  “Go!” Vayra yelled to captain Pels. “To the Stream!”

  Countless eye-covered hammerhead faces burned in the sky, exerting sickening pressure and making her blood run cold. In comparison, the Stream seemed only a faint ribbon. With each impact, it frayed further, until there was nothing left but a single tendril. It was just enough for the fleet to retreat along.

  At first, the Harmony moved painfully slowly, but the crew dropped all the sails and caught the wind directly, pushing themselves as fast as they could across the planetary waters. In the distance, the remains of the Elderworld battle line tried to form up, but they had been shattered by King Tallerion’s assault. Leaderless, many of the Elderworld ships themselves fled up the Stream.

  When the Harmony’s bow clunked over a pile of floating flotsam, Vayra looked back. Under the falling, burning sky, a lone figure descended, holding his arms out to the side.

  Nathariel.

  Vayra extended her senses and scanned his spirit. It was about to rupture. He was going to let it. He no longer cycled mana to contain it.

  “Will that…kill us?” Vayra whispered to Glade.

  “I do not know, and we should not linger to find out,” he replied.

  ‘If you don’t get out of the way, he’ll destroy us!’ Phasoné replied. ‘But his targets, I suppose, are the Ko-Ganall.’

  Vayra shut her eyes and winced. A lump built in her throat.

  ‘There’s nothing you can do. He’ll die anyway. At least this way, he’ll save many more lives in the sector.’

  It didn’t make it sting any less. To quell the sorrow, she asked, “Are Ameena and Myrrir…alright?”

  “She said they would find a ship,” Glade replied. “I do not know if they succeeded, though I hope they do.”

  As the Harmony ascended the Stream, Vayra ran back to the stern railing, pushing between sailors and rescue civilians. She gripped the wood as tight as she could and watched. They passed the outer surface of the Moon, then ascended far enough that she could see the entirety of its gas giant parent as well. The Ko-Ganall, now unopposed, drilled into the Moon’s surface.

  If unchecked, they’d destroy the planet and move on, no doubt like they had to many others in their path.

  No longer could she sense Nathariel. She didn’t need to.

  At first, it felt as though all the light had been sucked out of the star system. Then a great boom reverberated along the Stream, and blazing white-orange Arcara seared out away from the Shattered Moon in all directions. The sphere expanded, incinerating the Ko-Ganall and blasting away the gaseous outer layer of the Moon’s parent, and it raced faster than the Harmony.

  Vayra’s eyes widened. The explosion was going to catch up. She Warded the Harmony’s stern, as if it might help.

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  But the wave of orange energy slowed the further out it burned, until eventually, it all dissipated, leaving only debris and a diminished husk of the Shattered Moon’s parent gas giant. The Stream evaporated, or collapsed, spewing droplets of spirit water into the void. They froze and tumbled aimlessly.

  Vayra let go of her breath and leaned on the railing. “Goodbye, Nathariel. I hope you know we succeeded.”

  The planet of Farpoint was as good as any to regroup on. While the fleet and cargo haulers deposited their civilians, and the Velaydian ships made repairs and assessed the damage, Vayra had other matters to attend to.

  She stood on a grassy field at the top of the shoreline cliffs, watching over the ocean and watching the sun setting behind the fleets.

  A small crowd formed before her. At the front was a line of the twelve remaining members of the High Pantheon, and behind them stood their most powerful God-heirs. Coats fluttered in the wind, dresses and robes ruffled, and hat plumes swayed.

  Glade stood a few paces behind her, his hand on the hilt of his sword. Myrrir and Ameena to the side—they’d gotten off a different ship and found her again after reaching the surface of Farpoint.

  She wanted to celebrate, to catch them in a hug and thank them, but there was no time. She had to be deadly serious. If the Gods all attacked as one and worked together, they might succeed and kill her, but the most powerful of their number was gone, and the nearby mortals all favoured Vayra. A great number of the High Pantheon would die. None would risk it.

  For good measure, Phasoné appeared behind her in the ghostly white silhouette form.

  “You must all ascend to where you belong,” she stated. “Whatever’s up there for you”—she pointed to the sky with her thumb—“you need to go back.”

  The Gods all glanced at each other, and they mumbled amongst themselves.

  “I’m not asking,” Vayra said. “I’ve been to Harvest Sanctuary. Your powers belong to the realm above, whatever it may be. They’ll twist this realm out of proportion if I let it, and I can’t let it.”

  “What’s to stop us from disobeying you?” Vallor asked. He didn’t cycle Arcara yet, but he did step forward, and his eyes gleamed aggressively. “Shall we never descend to live with our heirs, to extend our bloodlines, and make more Gods?”

  “If you descend and take holdings, I will destroy you,” Vayra said. “You saw what happened to Karmion.” She crossed her arms.

  “That’s not how it was before,” said Brann?l. “Daughter, I beg of you. You know what we had before. You know the power we held.”

  “The deal is changing. The galaxy is changing. It won’t be like that.”

  “You benefited greatly from Harvest Sanctuary!” Altrous exclaimed. “You think we shouldn’t provide such benefits to our heirs?”

  “They are free to make elixirs and resources. You will not live in this realm, save for short visits. Upon good behaviour, I will tolerate longer visits. You may have more heirs, but the moment you try to dominate and control mortals, I will kill you. Lay a finger on a mortal in anything but self-defence, and I will kill you.”

  The Gods all stared at her, silent, contemplative.

  “Now go. Ascend. Do what you do, and go back where you came from, before I have to chase you off. You have three weeks to gather your belongings and anyone you want to take with you.”

  The Gods scattered, mumbling angrily and sulking, but none argued with her outright.

  Maybe it was a little cruel, but they could stand a little cruelty after all they’d done.

  After a few paces, some of the Gods—notably Farrir and Altrous—disintegrated. Their bodies faded away completely, turning into motes of pale blue dust and blowing away with the wind.

  Vayra turned around when all the gods had scattered, then faced Ameena, Myrrir, Glade, and Phasoné. She sprinted forward and caught Glade and Phasoné in a hug together. “Thank you, you two. I’d never have made it this far without you.”

  “Thank you, Vayra, for being an excellent Mediator.” Phasoné pressed her ghostly forehead against Vayra’s eyebrows.

  “It was a pleasure,” Glade said, stepping back.

  “And you two as well.” Vayra turned to Myrrir and Ameena. “Rocky start for one of you, hardly know the other. But…I think it’s worth thanking you anyway.”

  “I wouldn’t be here without you, Vayra,” Myrrir said. “And I mean that in the best of ways. I have never felt more whole, more satisfied. If you need my, I will be in the Kamoro system, though I figure when my adrenaline wears off and this all comes to an end…my spiritual injuries will catch up with me.”

  “I’m going with Glade,” Ameena announced. “I have nowhere else to go.”

  “...Go?” Vayra asked.

  “I am a God now,” said Glade. “And thus, I must ascend as well.”

  Vayra shut her eyes and winced. “I…suppose. I just thought…”

  “I will be there,” he said. “Wherever I am supposed to be.”

  She exhaled slowly, as if it was the last breath she’d ever take.

  “You’ll find them again, Vayra,” said Phasoné. “You will. I promise.”

  “How?”

  “Our power burns quickly. After a few centuries, we will either have died in battle, or be forced to split apart and ascend. By then, you will be a god in your own right, and I will return to the station I once had.”

  Vayra clenched her eyes. A tear still leaked down her face. “I’ll find you again, Glade. I promise. In the heavens, and beyond, wherever that may be.”

  “I am sure you will.” He stepped back. “And I will seek you out as well.”

  “Do you know how? To ascend, that is?”

  “There is something pulling on my spirit,” he replied. “I cannot explain it. It is begging me up, trying to draw me into the heavens. I am resisting it, and so are the other gods…but it takes constant will. I just have to let go.”

  “Alright. Goodbye, then, Balance Man.” She offered a small wave. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

  Glade and Ameena interlocked arms, and with an exhale, they both disintegrated into glowing dust, borne up into the sky by the wind. Myrrir walked away in the opposite direction, returning to the shore.

  “Just us, now…” Vayra whispered to Phasoné.

  The Goddess nodded. “Just us.”