Anton squinted one eye shut, pretending to compare her face to that of the monolith. “They could have done a better job,” he agreed. “For one thing, statue-you doesn’t have a drink in her hand.”

He smiled up at her look of mock scorn.

“All right,” she said when they reached the exact center of the Circle. “Just like I taught you.”

They separated, each walking toward opposite edges of the Circle. It felt like the resonance of the Stones was guiding them, rebounding off the Wanderer’s esha and Anton’s until they were each situated at the foci of the Circle.

A calm stillness settled in his chest as they turned and faced each other. Stars were beginning to glow in the dimming sky above as Anton breathed in, focusing on the resonance of the Stones. He had felt their presence once before, his first time at Kerameikos. Up here it was so much stronger, ringing in his head and through his bones. He let himself sink into their ebb and flow, until he could almost feel it lining up with his pulse, with the vibration of his own esha. He could feel the Wanderer doing the same thing, the clear, bell chime of her esha collapsing into the susurration of the Circle of Stones, reverberating, amplifying.

There was no separating the sounds now—his esha, the Wanderer’s, the ringing of Stones all came together as one wave of sound, cresting over them and breaking outward. It felt like what he had done in the cistern of Nazirah, calling out to Jude with his Grace, and again in Behezda, using it to try to mend the Four-Petal Seal on the Red Gate of Mercy, but more. Like his esha now echoed with that of seven others—the Prophets. And he knew, somehow, that he and the Wanderer were not the only ones who could feel this sudden surge of power. Knew that even someone without Grace could feel it, as sure as if he were standing here and making a declaration.

I am the Last Prophet.

It was as if the words were echoing out from him, woven into the call of the monoliths.

He opened his eyes, his neck craning up toward the sky which was now alight with shivering color. Pinks and golds and deep purples streaked across deep blue. They swam and furled like waves across the ocean.

And then, from outside the Circle of Stones, Anton felt an echo of his and the Wanderer’s esha. The energy they had sent out rippled back to them, changed. It was the esha of the other Prophets, answering their call.

The echo contracted around them, like a breath being sucked in, and then the connection broke. Anton fell to his hands and knees, overwhelmed and almost nauseated. He heard footsteps pounding across the soft earth toward him, and a moment later Jude dropped to his knees beside him.