Turning back to the Empyrium, I shake my head as tears coat my cheeks, panic swirling in my chest. “There must be another way. Please. I’m not the right choice. I just wanted to live the life I was born for. I want to be with my brother and sister. I want to be with Nadir. He just gave up everything for me so we could kill Zerra for you. I only want to be with him. The people of Heart need me.”

“Ouranos needs you more,” they say. “It will be the difference between some lives and all of them.”

“There has to be another way!”

“There is not,” they say.

“Then give me Nadir,” I say, desperate now. “Allow him to come with me, but let him keep his spirit.”

I shake my head. I’ve been talking a mile a minute and only now realize what I’ve just said.

“Sorry,” I say. “I . . . shouldn’t speak for you . . .”

“No,” he answers. “If there’s a way, then I accept it. I just want to be with her too.”

The Empyrium tips their head, and for the first time, they seem a bit sorry about all of this.

“If we could, we would,” they say, and that’s when I break down.

My stomach cramps, and I bend double, dropping to my knees. The Aurora King is gone. I have the Crown. I’m finally free, and I’m about to lose it all.

“No,” I sob. “Please. No.”

Nadir drops to the floor, wrapping me into him as we both cling to one another.

“Lor,” he whispers, his voice on the edge of cracking.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I tried. I tried so hard for us.”

“I know you did. This isn’t your fault.”

More arms circle us as Tristan, Willow, and Amya join our wretched little huddle. We weep together as I feel my spirit draining out. Already I feel detached from reality, like I’m not really here.

“I’ll do it,” comes a soft voice that, at first, I think I imagine.

It comes again, stronger this time. “Take me instead.”

It takes a moment for us to pull apart. I hiccup as I wipe my nose with the back of my hand.

Tyr stands at the other side of the circle, his back straight and his eyes clear with purpose.

“I’ll do it,” he repeats, and the vice around my heart releases an inch.

“Tyr,” Erevan says, coming up next to him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m doing something useful,” he says, then turns to Gabriel. I notice the absence of the golden tattoo on his neck, and my throat knots at the sight. “I’m sorry. I’m never going to be the king I was. No matter how much I want to, I can’t ever go back. It hurts too much. Those walls will always be a reminder of what I want to forget.”