Barclay swiveled around. A fresh wave of Brutopods emerged from the ocean, in between the thin, frothy puddles of the weeping tide. Barclay froze. He would do whatever it took to save Munsey, but he and the others were already tired. How much longer could they fight before one of them got hurt?

Click click click click click.

“Um, Barclay,” Shazi choked out.

“I’m sort of busy here.” Barclay readied his stance for battle.

Click click click click click.

“Barclay!” Shazi snapped.

Barclay turned—and looked up at the giant, terrifying Beast in front of him, a snake that stretched high in the air, its body made only of its skeleton. Its bones shifted as it moved. Its vertebrae pointed outward like blades, and its jaw opened wider than its whole skull. Even though its eyes were only empty sockets, it bore down on them, preparing to strike.

“Goath,” Barclay said, horrified.

“I don’t—I don’t—” Shazi stammered. “I don’t think we can fight one of Runa’s Beasts.”

Barclay agreed with her. But when Shazi yanked his arms to run, for the first time, his legs were frozen stiff. If all the Beasts of Munsey had gone feral, then the Lore Keepers wouldn’t stand a chance.

Goath whipped his tail out, ready to chop Barclay and Shazi into mincemeat. Barclay squeezed his eyes shut. He wished more than anything that he had Root beside him.

“Get back!” a voice shouted. Then a rumble erupted from the ground, and the air around them became unbearably hot. Shazi wrenched Barclay back—so hard the two of them stumbled and splashed into the edge of the water. Barclay’s eyes shot open in pain as the foamy remnants of the weeping tide seared his palms.

In front of them, a circle of oozing lava surrounded Goath, trapping him.

Barclay and Shazi bolted out of the water, both furiously wiping their hands on their clothes. Every touch burned.

“Are you all right?” Cyril asked, rushing to their sides. Shazi had fallen, and he knelt beside her and seized her by both shoulders. Frantically he studied her and Barclay’s bloody, blistery palms. The weeping tide had eaten away patches of their skin. Barclay could still move all his fingers, but the pain hurt so much that his stomach heaved. “Any other injuries? How many fingers am I holding up?”

“I’m fine,” Shazi swore, even though she was wincing.

“Thank goodness. Neither of your wounds look severe, but we’d better have Edwyn heal you up.” Finished fussing, Cyril stood and turned to Goath, who thrashed about angrily in his lava prison. “This is what happens when you let your Beasts run wild. Absolutely reprehensible. I don’t like to think about what would’ve happened to you all had I not gotten here in time.”