The drums echoed across the black water, slow and full of weight.
Jace moved fast, staying low along the various lizard buildings, water lapped at his boots as he began dipping into the water to get back to the alcove. The moment the Thresher King had breached the lake a second time, he'd lost sight of the alcove— the swell had risen so high, he thought it had swallowed the whole cleft.
He rounded the last jut of stone and found them.
Mira was crouched low inside the alcove, dripping wet, hair plastered to her face. She had one arm braced around Theo's limp body and the other gripped tight on her bow, jaw clenched. Her eyes snapped to Jace the second he appeared.
"Where the hell were you?" she hissed.
Jace didn't waste breath. "The plan's happening now. Sarah's already moving into position. We need to go."
Mira blinked water out of her eyes. "What?!"
"She's sneaking toward the priestess. She's going to grab the potion. You and I are taking Theo to the tower and one of the gates."
Mira just stared at him. "You left her alone?"
"Not by choice." He grimaced. "We really need to go, Mira."
She looked down at Theo — pale, blood-soaked, breathing shallow. "The whole cleft flooded," she said, voice cracking now. "When that thing came out of the water. I had to hold Theo up above the water just to keep him from drowning. I thought we were dead."
"We will be," Jace said grimly, "unless we move. Now."
She ran a hand over her face and dragged in a breath, eyes darting toward the lights and torches of the village. "What's the rest of this suicide plan?"
"There's a ballista in one of the towers. We take Theo. Sneak through the village and get to the tower. We have to kill the guards in it. You climb. Wait for the Thresher King to open its mouth for the sacrifice… Then you fire into its mouth."
She stared at him. "what?"
Silence.
Then Mira burst out, "You people are absolutely out of your minds—!"
"We still need to wake it up more! Throw the priestess off. Give Sarah her opening to steal that potion!" Jace whispered urgently back.
Mira paced in a tight half-circle, then slapped her hand hard against the rock. "You want me to shoot a massive crocodile with a literal crown of bone in the face with a siege weapon. I've never used it before! While Sarah tries to rob a lizard blood cult with five hundred lizards watching."
Her voice hit the last word too hard. It cracked.
She laughed once — short and sharp — then dragged both hands through her hair. "This is insane. This is actually insane. We're not— we're not supposed to be here. We were supposed to be scouting. Mapping paths. Helping rescue some refugees, Not—" She gestured helplessly toward the lake, the drums, the god beneath the water. "Not this."
Jace let her pace. Let her breathe. Let the hysteria burn itself out for half a second. Her brown hair was originally in a long ponytail but now it was plastered to her skin wet from the water. Her freckles stood out in the low light. Her hand gripped the worn bow she had taken from the kobold and Jace could see the blood on her wrist where the string had slapped against her drawing blood. He was more grateful than she knew that she was here.
Jace took a deep breath and pushed the insanity from his own mind. Then he stepped in front of her, gently pulling her into a gentle hug. Her arms gripped him tightly.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "It is."
She stopped.
"We're not heroes," he went on. "We're not legends. We're not supposed to be calm right now." He glanced back at Theo, pale and unmoving. "We're kids who got dragged into the end of the world and are trying to do the best we can."
Mira swallowed hard, eyes shining. "Then why does it feel like if I screw this up, everyone dies?"
"Because that part's true," Jace admitted softly. Then softer, "All we can do is the best we can, and we deserve a little freak out sometimes."
She let out a shaky breath. "I can't— I can't even feel my hands."
Jace reached out and took her wrists, steadying them. His grip wasn't strong. Just there.
"Look at me," he said.
"You don't have to be brave," he said. "You just have to do the next best thing. That's it. One step at a time."
"What if I miss?"
Jace chuckled, "Then we're already dead," he said plainly. "So we don't worry about that."
A hysterical sound escaped her — halfway between a laugh and a sob. "That's not comforting."
"I know," Jace said. "But you're the only one who can do this. And you are good. You always have been."
Mira closed her eyes. Pressed her forehead briefly against his shoulder.
Then she straightened.
"Okay," she whispered. "Okay. I can do one thing at a time."
She wiped her face with the back of her sleeve and picked up her bow again, hands still shaking — but steadying.
Jace nodded. "That's all we need."
They both looked once more toward the lake.
The drums were getting louder.
"Let's go shoot a god," Mira muttered.
And together, they lifted Theo and moved.
The drums pounded like distant thunder, echoing off stone and water. They could still see the Thresher King breaching the underground lake.
Jace crept along the edge of the lizard village, Mira following close behind, Theo half-limp between them. They moved between squat stone huts and slick rock outcroppings, ducking under woven canopies, past flickering torchlight and the low murmur of voices chanting by the lakeside.
Most of the lizardfolk were gathered near the water, eyes fixed on the priestess and the blood-soaked altar. The glowing totem near them. It actually kinda looked like the Stele in their own village. The second centaur had just been dragged out, its wounds freshly reopened.
Jace didn't watch.
They were nearly to the tower when he saw the movement — a single lizardman, wandering from the path, its attention pulled toward the lake, spellbound by the ritual. No weapon in hand. A torchlight glow flickered across its side. But it was too close and in their way.
Jace didn't hesitate.
He moved low and fast, his knife in hand.
The lizard turned slightly as he reached it — just enough to register something wrong.
It never had time to react.
One hand slammed over its mouth. The knife slid deep into its throat and he pulled it across it ear to ear, just like Garrick had shown him. It jerked once. A soft hiss escaped into Jace's palm, muffled and wet. The blood dripped over his hand and onto the knife.
He eased the body down into the shadowed space beneath a broken canopy, chest heaving.
His hands shook for a second.
Then he turned. Mira was crouched nearby,still holding Theo, her eyes wide.
They reached the tower moments later — the shadow of its wooden frame rising against the stone. A narrow ladder led upward, where a faint silhouette moved behind the upper palisade. One guard posted above. Another at the base — just around the far side, tail flicking lazily as it paced.
Jace crouched behind a jagged pillar and whispered, "One up. One down. We take them at the same time."
Mira nodded, face pale but jaw set.
"I'll circle left," Jace said. "Give me five seconds."
She was already nocking an arrow. Her face locked in concentration.
Jace hurried off into the darkness to get around the lazy guard.
The guard at the base of the tower shifted just as Jace came in — silent, fast, the rhythm of the drums covering the scrape of his boots. The blade slid into the lizard's neck just as it turned. Jace guided it down to the earth, burying it beneath the shadows of the wooden tower supports.
Above him — twang.
A body hit the top of the palisade with a dull thump.
Jace looked over to where Mira was with Theo.
Mira was already moving to begin climbing. Bow back on her shoulder. One hand, one rung at a time, teeth clenched.
She reached the top and vanished over the edge.
Jace knelt beside Theo, who lay slumped back where they had hidden. Blood still weeping through the old bandage. "Need you to hang on alittle more buddy."
He glanced toward the massive wooden gate nearby — and then toward the lake.
The priestess raised her arms again. And the drums were starting to beat harder again.
It was almost time. "Sarah better be in position…"
From above, Mira's whisper cut through the steady thrum of the drums.
"Jace—! I need help!"
He looked up from the locking bar on the gate. "What—?"
"It won't rotate toward the settlement!" she hissed, leaning over the edge, panic tightening her voice. "It's jammed—!"
Jace groaned under his breath. He gave the locking pin one last hard twist and felt it give — the mechanism on the gate loosening beneath his fingers. He didn't wait to test it.
He was already sprinting for the ladder.
Water sloshed somewhere out by the lake.
The drums were picking up speed again, just as he climbed, rung after rung, boots slipping slightly on the slick wood. Halfway up, he looked back toward the lake — and saw it clearly for the first time.
The third centaur was resisting. Barely.
Its legs were buckling, arms straining as two lean lizard warriors held it down beside the altar. Its chest was torn open from earlier combat, bleeding heavily. The priestess stood nearby — not a bowl, Jace realized now, but a vase — wide-mouthed and narrow at the base, with broad flared sides and tall curved handles. It was shaped to catch blood and to pour.
His stomach twisted and his mind tried to reject what he was seeing. The world shouldn't be this…brutal…
"Mira—"
"I know!" she barked. "Just hurry!"
He reached the platform and swung himself over the lip.
Mira was crouched beside the massive ballista, her hands on its thick wood frame, trying to turn it. It sat on a heavy wooden swivel base. It shouldhave rotated. But it didn't.
"There's a lock—" Jace said instantly.
He dove to the base, found the iron lever sunk into the floor, and yanked it hard.
The mechanism let out a deep click and the entire ballista groaned as it came loose.
Mira scrambled back, and the siege weapon swung easily now — heavy but smooth.
It turned toward the lake. Toward the altar and Thresher King. Jace still couldn't believe the massive size of the thing. The tunnel that led up into the river above must be massive.
Jace looked at her. Mira flushed and didn't quite meet his eyes. "I didn't see it."
"It's fine," he said, already reaching for the bolts.
Wicked broadheads sat stacked to the side, tips the size of his hand — meant for siege but they would work on a monster.
They slotted one onto the track, then together began turning the crank to draw back the massive string.
Below them, the priestess began to chant again.
The centaur was screaming.
The bolt clicked into place, thick cord wound tight behind it, the drawstring fully locked.
Mira slid forward, hands steadying on the massive frame. The ballista swiveled smooth now under her guidance, creaking softly as she brought it around toward the lake.
She leaned into the aiming brace, one eye closed, peering down the long spine of the weapon toward the water's edge.
The Thresher King still loomed — half-submerged, vast jaws just above the surface, eyes closed, as if sensing the blood before it was spilled.
Mira exhaled slowly. The wood was rough beneath her fingers.
Behind her, Jace crouched low, whispering, "You've got this. Clean shot. Deep breath—"
"Shut up," Mira hissed without turning. "If I miss, you'll be the first thing I blame."
Jace grinned despite himself, crouching beside her for half a heartbeat longer.
Then it happened.
The priestess plunged the curved ritual blade into the centaur's throat.
The creature jerked, choked, and crumpled against the stone.
The priestess caught the blood in her vase — and this time, something changed.
It shimmered.
Soft at first — a faint glow that pulsed from within the mixture. The red darkened unnaturally, shifting to something near-black, and a low hum seemed to radiate from the fluid itself.
Jace's face tightened. Then, he whispered: "Good luck."
He disappeared over the edge of the tower and began to climb down, boots creaking on the ladder.
The ballista vibrated slightly under her fingers.
Mira breathed in and let it out slow.
The glow from the vase was getting brighter now. She saw it softly even from here. The priestess held it aloft, chanting louder, the lizardfolk all bowing — hundreds of them on their knees — as the lake rippled and the Thresher King began to shift.
Mira sighted the bolt on its massive snout, just between the bone ridges of its skull. She adjusted up. Center of the maw. She could just make out the inside of its mouth now — like the roof of a cathedral, dark and veined.
Her hands shook — not much, but enough.
She whispered, barely audible: "One thing at a time."
The priestess raised the vase higher in victory.
The Thresher King's nostrils flared.
And Mira's finger tensed on the firing lever.
The Thresher King rose a little.
The water parted around its bulk like a continent shifting. Jaws yawned open wider than any creature Mira had ever seen.
Below, the priestess chanted louder, voice pitched high, echoing through the cavern.
Four lizardfolk warriors lifted the limp centaur's corpse — massive even in death. They carried it between them toward the beast's gaping mouth, stepping carefully over slick stone, blood trailing behind.
Mira adjusted the ballista's aim, heart hammering in her chest.
I don't know the drop, she thought. Don't know the strength of this thing. Don't know anything about wind or weight or gods—
She wiped sweat or water from her eye and stared down the line again.
Don't need to know everything.
She could feel the string, tight as steel behind the bolt. The carved wooden lever under her hand felt far too light for what it was about to do.
She saw the priestess raise the glowing vase again.
The lizardfolk reached the edge.
Three hundred meters, she thought. Just like that one scene…
What scene?
She racked her brain — it was some movie her brother loved. The one with elves and swords and walking for a thousand years. There'd been a guy — blonde, bow-obsessed, way too graceful — who slid down a giant trunk and shot a beast right between the eyes.
She didn't remember the name. But the image stuck.
"Legolas… or whatever," she muttered under her breath. "Please let this be one of those moments."
She exhaled. She pulled the trigger.
The bolt launched — not fired, not loosed or shot — launched. It kicked back the entire platform with a violent thunk, the entire tower shivering under her as the broadhead tipped missile became a blur slicing the air.
It screamed across the cavern like a meteor.
Below, the centaur's corpse was just starting to fall — arms outstretched, limp, a sacrifice offered mid-motion—
The bolt struck.
Straight into the Thresher King's upper mouth, sinking to its fletching into the roof of its mouth.
It didn't explode. It didn't roar. But the entire lake shook.
And then the world shattered.
The Thresher King roared, a sound like stone splitting and bones breaking — not one voice but a thousand, old and wrong and endless. Water exploded in every direction. Lizardfolk screamed. The ground trembled beneath Mira's feet.
She saw the priestess stagger backward from the blast of sound, clutching the glowing vase, her chant broken into a sharp cry.
And from the shadows, Sarah moved.
She came from below and to the side, fast as light — a blur of motion, her sword low, tucked behind her. Mira saw the angle. Saw the decision before it even happened.
"Come on…" Mira whispered.
Sarah didn't hesitate.
The blade punched into the priestess's chest, clean and fast, angled up under the ribs.
The priestess's eyes widened — shock, pain, rage — and then glazed over.
Sarah let her fall. She didn't even pull the blade free.
She grabbed the vase from her hands— glowing like a deep red captured lightning — and turned. She ran. There was no hiding or stealth. She just ran as fast as she could for where they were.
Lizardfolk around the platform gasped, stumbled, howled. Some dropped to their knees in shock. Others raised weapons. One of them grabbed the priestess's body — sobbing, maybe praying — but it was too late.
Sarah was already across the platform, cutting toward the nearest row of buildings, away from the largest crowds of lizardfolk. The glowing vase pulsed like a beacon against her chest, every step marked by flickers of shifting light.
And then the Thresher King rose.
Its full bulk exploded from the water — jaws open in a voiceless scream, claws tearing stone and air alike. It smashed into the edge of the lake and didn't stop. Pillars shattered. Lizardfolk were flung like leaves. One of the sacrificial ramps buckled under the weight of its tail as it thrashed, blind with pain and fury.
Mira flinched, hands gripping the edge of the tower as stone debris launched skyward like shrapnel.
It was destroying everything.
Buildings crumbled beneath its claws. Water flooded onto stone as it carved deep gouges into the shore. It just raged and Sarah ran.
Mira's eyes followed her from the high vantage point of the tower. She could see lizardfolk turning, shouting, raising weapons. One sprinted at Sarah with a short spear — she ducked low, feinted right, and slammed her shoulder into him mid-run, sending him sprawling. She didn't stop. Another swiped with a curved blade — caught her along the ribs.
Sarah staggered the cut bleeding freely then kept running.
Mira reached instinctively for her bow, fingers already closing around the string to nock an arrow, but she hesitated.
She was already halfway through the maze of buildings, ducking low, the glowing vase still tight in one hand, the other slick with blood. She turned sharply, vaulted over a low stone planter, and disappeared behind a collapsed awning.
She's actually going to make it, Mira thought, stunned.
The Thresher King was destroying the edge of the lake in a rage and the Lizard Folk were fleeing en mass from it. Debris and shrapnel were shooting through the air doing as much damage as the Thresher King itself was.
Below, Mira saw Jace — crouched behind the gate, one hand holding Theo upright, the other readying the path. His eyes flicked constantly between the gate, the wreckage, and the spot where Sarah would appear.
And finally — she did.
Bursting from between two stone huts, cloak torn, one leg limping but fast, a cut leaking red down her shoulder. The blow to hear head had re opened but she didn't slow.
Mira grinned without meaning to. Then reached for the tower's ladder.