“Death, death, the final end,” she said, finding Stix’s eyes over the fast-drying mud. “It sings to you too, does it not?” She thrust out the blade as if preparing to attack. “I could kill you permanently with it. No more Paladin souls. No more Water Brawlers. But I will spare you, Stacia Sotar, because even Exalted Ones can still be saved.” She snapped down the blade and handed it to the Hammer, who quickly wrapped it in cloth. The same cloth Ryber had hidden it within for so many days.

Then, with nothing more than an over-the-shoulder wave—as if she were departing from a casual meeting between friends—Kahina strode into the wooden stall. The fire parted to allow the Hammer to follow and for Ryber to come crawling out.

As soon as Stix rushed to Ryber’s side, the entirety of the Ring ignited.

It was like a thousand firepots going off at once. One moment, there were flames on the stall; the next moment, everything burned. Blue heat rumbled over Stix. No time to think, no time to assess or do anything but haul Ryber close and run. Freeze, she commanded. Freeze, douse, freeze. What little water still survived here fought to obey, elated to be useful, and in two fire-choked breaths, the flames nearest to Stix and Ryber snuffed out.

“I’m sorry,” Ryber said from smoke-rasped lungs. Over and over again. “I’m sorry, he … the Hammer … he surprised me. I’m sorry, Stix.”

But it wasn’t Ryber’s fault that this had happened. Stix couldn’t even blame the Hammer. He’d had a bargain with Kahina—Stix knew what that meant now.

No, all of this chaos, every flame now streaming toward the sky, was Stix’s fault and her fault alone. Noden save her, if she ever saw her father again, she’d tell him he was right. That her natural power had made her overconfident, that one day she had met someone she couldn’t match. And that hye, a magic as strong as hers did need honing, and she should never have taken it for granted.

Even the voices had abandoned her to her mistakes. No more satisfied quiet. Only cold, resentful silence.

Stix floundered for any water in the air or in the soil, but there was too much heat for her to fight against. Worse—because of course it could somehow get worse—a new roar was filling the Ring. A rattling, shuddering sound that shook the water and shook Stix’s bones with a thousand tiny feet.

She turned right as the first of the rats entered the ruined arena, streaming from the burning, collapsing scaffolding. They aimed for the only place absent of flames. They aimed for Stix and Ryber.