In a few seconds, his hand fell away, and his drooping eyes strayed from me to the battle. Finally, while he twitched and kicked, his eyes dimmed, and his dark soul slithered away to its doom in the Netherworld.

A sob rose from my gut and lurched from my chest in agony—in joy.

He was gone.

It was over. I covered my face with my hands and cried. For though I might have plotted to end his life, a fact that did not make me proud, I had shown him mercy in the end, and that was something.

That was something.

The battle was ending, when I was calm enough to stand.

Light-headed and woozy, I stumbled away from Uruku’s body, Dagan’s dagger wiped clean and stowed in my satchel. A few warriors finished off the last of the fighting guardsmen who hadn’t dropped their weapons and surrendered. I took in the carnage on every side as the women pulled their whinnying horses to a stop and the chariots stilled. A mess of twisted limbs here. A dying man there. Discarded sickleswords and helmets everywhere.

I’d need to help tend the wounded—and soon—but for now, I wanted only him. Dagan.

Where is he?

As I tromped through remnants of the battle to find him, one final white horse galloped into the arena, kicking up sand. I turned, lifting my eyes to see the rider.

It was Linaza, the goddess of love and war.

And she looked a lot like Arwia.

Streaming from her long black hair were red ribbons that shimmered as if they’d captured the sun. Atop her head was a crown of hammered gold, with what appeared to be fire inside.

She carried a flashing copper shield and wore a silver breastplate over a blood-red tunic that flowed from her shoulders long past her hands. Feathers had been sewn from shoulder to tip. On her back were gold wings that spread to the sky. Her horse was similarly arrayed, its mane woven with red roses and ribbons, its back draped in a long white sheet on which was painted a scorpion with its tail poised to strike.

The crowd stilled and horses reared in the arena as the women got down from their chariots and swept off their helmets one by one.

“Citizens of Alu!” Arwia yelled, her face painted to make her features look formidable. Slashes of eyebrows. Carved cheekbones. A red, dangerous mouth. “I am the daughter of Lugal Marus, Arwia, the Sarratum of Alu!” She raised her shield in the air and the crowds shifted uneasily, their cries of awe echoing across the large expanse of the bloody Pit.

“The goddess of war, Linaza, has freed me from the tomb! She gave me the power of her shield. The power of the Koru and the great Manzazu army! She commanded that I rid you of the torment from Lugal Uruku, who took this kingdom falsely.”