Hypnos scooped Laila up in his arms. Zofia and Enrique staggered forward. Séverin had only managed one step forward when the stairs began to crumble into the floor and a great tremor rocked the ziggurat.

Behind them, he could hear Ruslan’s shouts for help, but Séverin’s gaze was on the step ahead of them, and the next step after that. The trees broke overhead.

Enrique shoved him forward just as a branch the length of his body smashed onto the steps. The smell of bruised fruit filled the air. They were all too weak to move up the side of the temple; Séverin was forced to crawl on his hands and knees.

Is this not how one meets God, he wondered, almost laughing at the thought. I must not walk … but crawl.

On his right side, one of the automatons smashed its fist into the rock of the ziggurat. Stones crumbled away mere centimeters from Séverin’s face. The world smelled like blood and oranges, and when he looked down at his hands, he saw they were stained red.

“Séverin!”

He looked up blearily to see Zofia with tears streaming down her face. Laila’s head lolled against Hypnos’s chest. He tried to raise one leg, but his body shook.

“I … I can’t—” he said.

Séverin tapped into the last reserves of his strength, gathering Laila from Hypnos and pulling her against him. Even now … even with the world breaking around them … she still smelled of sugar and rose water. He hoisted her over his shoulder, one hand braced along her back.

In the back of his head, Séverin heard his mother’s voice:

Come along, habibi, don’t you want to see the end of the story?

Séverin crawled, forcing one hand in front of the other, his body dragging over the rough-hewn steps. Enrique cried out, sliding down the side of the temple. With one hand, Séverin grabbed Enrique by the wrist, hauling him up even as his shoulder screamed and something hot and wet flooded down his chest.

“I’ve got you,” said Séverin.

I protect you, he thought.

Hypnos appeared on his other side, gripping Enrique’s hand. Together they dragged him, and themselves, forward.

“The portal—” said Enrique. “Where is it? Those things will kill us—”

“It’s glowing brighter; it’s closer,” said Zofia.

Séverin looked up. There, at least twenty paces away, the air above the top-most step looked wrinkled with light. Both automaton fists slammed down close to her. Zofia fell to her side. Now the automatons moved closer, raising their other hands. Séverin looked behind him. Blood covered the stone steps. Ruslan was nowhere to be seen.

Séverin gazed up at the automatons’ shining arms, their heads bending toward them.

Zofia raised her bloodied face, her blue eyes wild as she looked to Séverin. “They’re going to destroy the portal.”

Séverin froze. For a brief moment, he imagined what would happen. He understood why the people who had built the temple had hidden its true heart. If the portal was destroyed, then the lyre would never be played. There was only one last option to stop the automatons …