I moved my arm, flinging it forward, bidding the Wretch to do the same. It threw three. Two were thrown in a way that would have hurt him if they hit points forward, and one was on course to hit Lung.

He was occupied with Goddess, but he still had the ability to strike it aside.

I still held more. I closed the distance, spearing toward him with multiple points. These too he fended off, with enough force that the Wretch was broken.

To get away from any fire and away from the heat, I had to fly up and away, into choking smoke that demanded I hold my breath. My eyes watered.

Below me, a silver scythe-blade cut through the smoke. I saw it hit Lung.

“Hit him!”

I had the Wretch surrounding me again, and then was back in the fray. More weapons scooped up, my throws timed for when I thought I could land a blow. I could see the line of silver across Lung’s chest.

He ducked the volley. Claws dug for dirt in purchase, his wings thrusting him forward. Powerful, but not powerful enough to disturb that silver line.

My eye was on the line, and I knew I could well be killing a man if I connected a blow.

I still grabbed the shattered trunk of a tree that had been thrown at an earlier part of the fight, and swung it at him, aiming for an undodgeable wallop more than a decisive blow. I hoped it would connect and split him.

Goddess needed it to. We needed it to. If we couldn’t, Lung would kill us all.

The hit connected, and I saw the spray of blood as one side of his chest cavity opened. Sternum to lower rib. Sliced through the lung.

There was no humor in the irony, only a chill, as I saw blood fountain out.

In the midst of smoke, I saw him stagger. I saw him draw in a deep breath, his chest coming apart in sections, like twenty fragments breaking apart, then coming back together in another configuration. His back popped, scale scraping against scale as it extended.

Then the wind turned, and the smoke was heavier. It was pitch black out and the smoke made it even harder for the light we had to illuminate the scene. People on the periphery were unable to do much.

It hadn’t even slowed him down.

“Goddess!” I shouted. We needed to coordinate on this.

“She’s gone. Getting more help,” a woman’s voice cut through the smoke.

Too little, too late.

The Wretch wasn’t enough.

Even if I’d been one hundred percent coordinated, it wouldn’t have been enough.

The purple flames surged, diffuse in the gray-black haze of smoke. Lung’s eyes were molten white, larger than before.

I heard him chuckle. He knew. That we were past the point where we could do it.