“Gods of Avern,” Cato murmured, limping into the room.

Clo pointed to the commander. “Get in there and help him. He’s still alive.”

“He’s not.” Eris straightened. She was gripping her scythe hard in her glove. “He’s gone.”

Nyx swore softly.

Eris unhooked her necklace, bent her head and whispered last rites. Nyx and Cato joined in. Clo and Ariadne stayed silent but bowed their necks in respect.

Hold it together, she told herself.

When she had trained to be her father’s Heir, Eris used to imagine a space inside her chest. An empty chasm that was deep and endlessly dark. If she ever became overwhelmed—if she ever felt too much—she’d picture that space filling up and up and up, like the banks of a forest stream in the rain.

And when it became too much, she’d empty it. Empty herself. All those emotions would drain out of her, leaving that hole in her chest barren and dark once more. It used to come easily, but near the end, it was like the more that chasm filled, the more emptying it was like trying to drain a whole ocean.

She wondered if it’d ever be easy again. If it’d stop hurting so much.

The firewolf in her pocket reminded her that it probably never would.

Eris finished her prayer and returned her necklace to her pocket. She gave the firewolf one last squeeze and turned to the others. “He said there were documents in the barracks that would explain what happened. I saw the buildings just past the warehouse. Before examining the”—Eris took a breath—“the bodies. We ought to know what we’re dealing with.”

Without another word, she strode out of the glimmering tunnel—past those glass prison cells-turned-tombs—and hurried up to the surface. The others were only too eager to follow. Outside, she caught her ragged breath.

Rhea watched her from where she had been resting against a tree. “Eris. Is everything all right?”

“The commander is dead,” Eris said, and Rhea blanched. Eris cursed her tactlessness, but she couldn’t offer soft words. No comfort. She was not made for these things.

Hold it together. Eris left Rhea, striding toward the barracks. She didn’t care if the others followed. You can’t fall apart now.

Eris’s boots were silent across the moist soil. The temperature had dropped since they landed, even if she couldn’t feel it through her suit. If she hadn’t left Tholos—if she had remained the general—she wouldn’t have let them all die. Maybe they’d still be alive. Maybe—

Stop. A maybe solves nothing. A maybe changes nothing. Do your damn job.