“Me, afraid?” the Wanderer said, a hint of humor in her musical voice. “I’m not the one who forsook my name and took on a new identity just to hide from the others.”

“Not that you had a name to forsake.”

“You saw to that,” the Wanderer replied with a hint of a smile. “A long time ago.”

Beru glanced between the two Prophets, unsure what to make of their exchange. Were they allies? Enemies?

“So have you finally returned to bargain for your life?” Pallas asked. “You must know how very long I’ve waited to kill you.”

“No, no,” the Wanderer laughed. “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a bit longer. I’ve come to offer you something you desperately want.”

“And what’s that?”

“Me,” a new voice rang out through the cavernous foyer.

Beru swung her gaze to the balcony above, where a lone figure stood, bathed in the light streaming through the stained-glass windows. Anton.

She heard Hector’s sharp intake of breath, and the prince’s low murmured, “It’s not possible.”

A ripple of whispers went through the Witnesses and the Paladin.

“Seize him,” Pallas commanded the Paladin. “Now.”

Anton calmly raised his hands as the Paladin mounted the stairs, surrounding him on the balcony. He gave a slight nod, barely a tilt of his head, and then Beru felt someone behind her. A voice whispered, “Don’t react.”

Beru held perfectly still.

“I’m going to unlock the collar,” Illya said in hushed tones. “Use your power to get everyone else free. There’s a ship down at the wharf.”

She understood what he was asking. Could she use the god’s powers to snap everyone out of the Archon’s residence, out of the citadel, and to the ship? And could she do it without unleashing the god entirely?

She wasn’t sure. She could feel the god pressing up against the bars of its cage, shaking the seal that kept its will trapped inside her. Using its power would feed it, make its will stronger.

But before she could weigh this danger against the possibility of freedom, she felt Illya’s fingers at the back of her neck as he unlocked the collar. It dropped into his waiting hands. The dull pain of the Godfire metal ebbed. In its place, the god’s emotions battered at her. Anger and excitement twisted up with her own relief and fear.

“Now,” Illya urged. “While the Paladin are occupied.”

COME, LITTLE MORTAL. LET’S SEE WHAT YOU CAN DO.

Beru hesitated, panic flaring hot and sharp inside her.

YOU AND I BOTH KNOW I’LL BREAK FREE, ONE WAY OR ANOTHER, the god said. YOU MAY AS WELL SAVE YOUR FRIENDS WHILE YOU CAN.

Beru looked at Ephyra and Hector, who were both staring at Anton up on the balcony, unaware that Illya already had a rescue underway. If Beru was brave enough to do her part.