The Witnesses dragged out another prisoner, this one an older man, tall and balding.

The Witnesses shoved him to his knees in front of Pallas.

“I am sure you recognize the former leader of this city,” Pallas said, touching the man’s shoulder gently. “His reign was marked by weakness and avarice. And when your glorious Prophet, Pallas the Faithful, returned, this man tried to defy me. For his role in defying the Creator’s plan, he must die.”

The Archon’s face twisted in utter terror. Ephyra stared back, impassive.

Beru wanted to hide her face. She couldn’t watch again. But she made herself. Ephyra had only become this rotten creature because of Beru. For Beru.

Ephyra stepped up to the Archon, quicker this time. Pallas moved to step away, but Ephyra grabbed a handful of his white robes and yanked the Prophet toward her.

Pallas took a stumbling step, his eyes wide with shock as Ephyra twisted around and wrapped her hand around his throat.

The crowd around them erupted with gasps and confused chatter. Someone screamed.

“What are you doing?” Pallas demanded, the usually gentle lilt of his voice gone harsh and clipped.

“Me?” Ephyra asked, her hand tightening around Pallas’s throat. “I’m dispensing the Creator’s judgment, like you said.”

“Stop her!” Pallas barked, his gaze darting toward his Witnesses, not daring to make any sudden movements lest she kill him just as easily as she’d killed Illya.

“Take a step toward us and your delightful little Prophet dies,” Ephyra warned the Witnesses who approached.

Beside Beru, Lazaros went rigid.

“She won’t do it,” Pallas said, his voice forcefully calm. “She won’t risk freeing the god.”

“Won’t I?” Ephyra asked, baring her teeth. “I’m not sure you want to find out, actually.”

Pallas seemed to freeze for a moment, deciding whether or not he could call Ephyra’s bluff.

WHAT IS SHE DOING? the god demanded. SHE SHOULD KILL HIM.

Beru feared that she would. That this wasn’t a bluff.

The Witnesses hovered, tense, waiting for their orders.

“S-stand down,” Pallas choked out at last.

“You,” Ephyra said, looking at Lazaros. “Let go of Beru.”

Pallas jerked his head. “Do as she says.”

Lazaros stepped away from Beru, and for a moment Beru thought she might collapse without his support. She swayed on her feet.

“What are you doing?” she asked faintly. The wind picked up, howling over the cliff, drowning out their voices.

“I told you,” Ephyra said. “I told you I wasn’t giving up. I told you I’d find a way.”

A hysterical cry rose in Beru’s throat. “But this, Ephyra? Illya? You killed him! What are you—”

“You have to trust me,” Ephyra pleaded. “As your sister, as the person you used to run to when you had nightmares, trust me.”