“It’s all right,” he soothed, his tone smooth and even despite the pallor of his face. “You can do this. You can fight it.”

The god let out a chilling sound, a groan like the earth shifting.

Ephyra knew her window of action was small. She bolted across the sand to Illya. He was lying on his side, his hands tucked beneath him. Ephyra took his shoulder, turning him over. He groaned, blinking open his eyes.

There was something soft and hazy in his expression as he looked up at her. “Ephyra?”

“The collar,” she replied.

She stole a glance back at Beru. The god was on its knees now, Beru’s whole body clenched tight like a fist. Hector was on his feet again, approaching slowly.

“Quickly,” Ephyra urged. Illya shifted, rolling over and holding up the Godfire collar. Ephyra had the strangest urge to kiss him, but instead she just took the collar and climbed to her feet.

Hector was right beside Beru now, a hand clutched at her shoulder. Whatever he was doing, it seemed to be helping Beru seize back control.

But who knew how long it would last?

Ephyra sprinted across the sand toward them, gripping the collar tight. Hector’s gaze caught hers over Beru’s crumpled form.

This close, Ephyra could hear the sounds the god was making—little choked-off moans of agony, its whole body trembling.

No, not the god. It was Beru.

“Hector!” Beru cried, and then bit off the sound into a high shriek of pain.

Ephyra threw herself to her knees, cradling Beru’s head in her lap.

“I’ve got you,” Ephyra said soothingly as she lifted the collar to Beru’s throat with shaking hands. “We’ve got you.”

At last the collar fastened around her neck. Beru let out a gusting breath and then went still.

Ephyra raised her eyes to meet Hector’s. “What did you do?”

He shook his head. “I’m not sure. I just—I felt her in there. Her feelings, her esha.”

Ephyra was aware of the strange connection between Hector and Beru. The result of how she herself had killed him all those months ago. The memory of that day hung heavy in the silence between them.

“Not to interrupt what I’m sure is an emotional moment,” Illya’s voice cut in drily from behind them, “but I’m pretty sure those are Paladin heading our way.”

He was sitting up in the sand, clutching his ribs and staring down the beach. She followed his gaze to find more than a dozen swordsmen dressed in dark blue cloaks trampling over the beach toward them, unnaturally fast.

“All right, everyone up and onto the ship,” the Wanderer called out, strangely chipper.