A long, shrill whistle stole Cyrus’s attention to the ocean. Two boats, short and flat like the fishermen used, curved around the eastern edge of the cliffs that formed the outer perimeter of the Solemn Sands. Two to a boat, one on the oars, the other holding aloft lanterns burning hot. Each held a single object in front of their lanterns so they cast long shadows across the shore. One was a long feather, the other, a small piece of wood carved into the shape of butterfly wings.

“There’s our way out!” Rayan shouted.

No soldier or magistrate stood between them and the Crystal Sea, for they had thought to trap them against its waters and guard the rope ladders instead. Only Cyrus’s path was blocked by the furious Imperator storming over with sword and shield drawn. The other members of the five raced for the boats, Stasia in the lead. She waved her arms to gain the attention of the nearest boat, then pointed to where Rayan fought against the waves.

“Get closer to shore,” she shouted. “Paladin cannot swim in such armor!”

“No,” raged Magus as he slowly repositioned himself to match any shift Cyrus attempted to slip past to escape. “Stay and fight, you coward. You say Thanet is yours, not ours? Come and prove it.”

Surprise was no longer on their side, and time had never been, but Cyrus lifted his swords and crouched his legs low for a sudden dash. He had encountered the paragon’s enormous shield once before, but that was in the crowded hallway of the castle. In open air atop the blood-soaked sands, he at least stood a chance. Here, right here, he could end the life of the man who cut down his parents. It was foolish, and reckless, and they were still badly outnumbered…

He glanced past Magus, to where Rayan was frantically pushing against the waves while wading toward their escape boats.

“One dance,” Cyrus said. Behind his mask, he felt confidence he could only dream of when but a young man frightfully wandering the castle halls of his captors. “I have time for only one dance.”

Magus lifted his enormous sword and shield, each hand holding a single weapon that mere humans would struggle to hold in two. Waves pushed against Cyrus’s ankles, and they crashed into a salt spray around the gargantuan Imperator’s legs as if he were the prow of a warship.