Fire snaked over Maruble's skin in loose tendrils, breathing out and in, moving across his body like a living thing. He didn't know where the flames started and his person began. Since that day in the forest, where he learned to consume power instead of only unleashing it, something shifted. Every piece of his soul longed to burn.

This was what it meant to be an Altan god.

He smirked at Noctavius. Killing the God of Death would be easy— too easy. Taking a deep breath, he clenched his hand into a fist, fighting the urge to release all his power onto the army. As if reading his thoughts, the divine scrambled away from him. Gone was the one he spoke to at his father's party. The one who convinced him to change the world had disappeared, and all the fear Maruble felt vanished along with it. Memory nodded at him, and he pressed on.

"Noctavius."

"Get away from me," Death barked. He lashed his dagger through the air between them. "There's nothing you can do, godling. My dead have taken the Court of Balance. You've lost."

Maruble motioned toward the stronghold. "Are you sure?"

The battlement torches burst to life, filled with dancing flames. Cheers broke out on the wall, and the Wings of the Court, who had been hopeless before, were alight with the taste of victory. Death lowered his dagger, taking a step away from him. Some of his soldiers fled into the darkness. Others dropped their swords, raising their hands in the air, but Noctavius didn't budge.

"The war is over, " said Maruble softly. "Put down your weapon."

"You think you can—"

His weapon blazed red. Death cursed, his blade clattering to the ground. He glowered at Maruble. Dread washed over his face but then disappeared as he charged.

Maruble frowned. He had admired Noctavius only weeks before, but now the god had lost everything. The person he knew had warped into someone unfamiliar. He drew a line of fire between them, not unlike the one Death made in the forest. His eyes flickered in the lights, filled with wild desperation.

"Coward!" he shouted. "Kill me! Kill me if you think you're so powerful!"

The God of Rot stepped forward. "It's over, old friend."

"Somel?" he rasped, slowing to a stop. "Why? Why would you do this?"

Rot blinked away tears. Maruble dimmed the fire, and he stepped forward, wiping the water from his eyes.

"The souls of the Underworld have waited long enough." He grabbed Noctavius's trembling hand. "It's time to leave."

The dead warriors staggered from the Court of Balance and stood among them. The legion looked murderous during their slaughter, but now their eyes seemed gentle. They stared affectionately at the god that grew up in their halls, who played in those long, empty caverns. For the first time, Maruble realized that the souls of the Underworld loved the God of Death.

Noctavius fell to his knees. "I don't want to go. I'm not ready to die, Somel."

"You're not going alone." Rot's skin flaked away as he held Noctavius, but the god didn't push him away. "There is so much work we need to do— so many souls waiting to be freed. This is not the end."

"I'm afraid," he admitted.

He squeezed Somel's arm and turned to the dead, watching in silence. His face drained of color. After a long time, he forced out his next words.

"I'm ready, but I have one last request." Noctavius faced the Goddess of Memory. "Will you make me remember? Will you show me how things used to be when it was just the four of us?"

Memory nodded. She knelt beside Death, rubbing a thumb across his cheek. "I'll miss you."

"Don't rush to visit," he said, smiling sadly. "And thank you for everything."

Memory pressed two fingers into Death's temples, and his head went slack, eyes unfocused. Heaviness gripped Maruble's chest as he realized Death was seeing his youth. He saw the life that Maruble had the chance to live for a short time, free from his troubles. A time when the dead were nothing to fear. He was with Gemma, Rot, and Memory. And for a moment, they were happy.

Rot nodded at the dead. "You'll take me as well?"

"If it's what you want," the corpse rumbled. "You are welcome in our halls, God of Rot. But once we take you, there is no coming back."

"I'm aware."

Somel turned to the two children standing along the edge of the group, in the same place Volcanics fell. The boy, God of Knives, held Theon's broken collar. It seemed he snapped the device with his own power.

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"Do you have to go?" Knives sniffed.

"I don't want my friend to be alone," he said gently. "Of all people, I'm sure you two understand."

Wind pursed her lips, nodding. Memory put an arm around their shoulders and pulled them close. She ruffled the boy's hair and smiled at Rot, but it was tinged with sadness.

"I'll take care of them."

The God of Rot smiled at her. He gazed at the sky, where the sun ambled slowly over the hill. Charred lava and bodies were strewn across the grass, but as the light touched the Court's white walls, there was something beautiful in it. Something that resembled hope.

"Since The Sea bestowed my power, the pain has been unbearable. The suffering felt cruel and endless— until Noctavius took me in. You both showed me I could still laugh, still feel joy, and that the rot wasn't the only thing left." He gripped the fabric of his tunic, closing his eyes against the sun's touch. "I won't let him go alone."

"Keep him out of trouble," Memory sobbed.

Death remained slack in Rot's arms, but there was a smile on his face that Maruble had never seen before. The same peace he felt in the presence of Sarah and Jacob.

Somel released a long breath. "I'm ready."

"Let's return home."

The dead's voice rushed like a gust of wind across the valley, gone as quickly as it came. It left a cool impression on Maruble's skin, sending chills up his spine. Raising a hand, the corpse brushed it through the air, not unlike a god using their power. At once, the God of Death and the God of Rot dissolved. Their skin whipping through the air like dust in a sandstorm. Rot looked at Maruble for the last time.

"Thank you."

He fell back. The pain Somel always wore on his face slackened, replaced with a warm smile. He sighed, relief rushing through his features, and just before he hit the ground, he disappeared.

The crowd stilled. Then, everyone moved at once.

Death's army ran for the hill, afraid of becoming prisoners of the Court. Justice and his unit rushed after them. The Goddess of Memory raced toward Theon, flipping him onto his back and speaking soothingly while Knives and Wind watched. Belthore stumbled to Hartley, pressing a hand on his stomach and shouting for a healer.

Maruble knelt beside the God of Peace.

"I knew you'd come." Hartley laughed, but it came out strained. "I even saved you a sword."

"Sorry, I didn't get to use it."

Hartley dropped his in the grass and asked, "Is it finally over?"

"It's over."

Examining his wounds, Maruble sighed with relief. The cut was deep, but it didn't appear as deep as he initially thought.

He risked a glance at Theon. Volcanics murmured quietly to the Goddess of Memory, unaware of his presence. One day, he would speak to his father again, but he wasn't ready. Not yet.

Maruble bowed his head. "Death seemed peaceful in the end. Do you think he'll be okay?"

"We can only hope," murmured Hartley.

Footsteps sounded behind the soldiers, and a voice pushed through the crowd. Athema broke through and ran towards them, her white robes billowing behind her and face smeared with ash. She dropped down beside Maruble.

"Hartley, my love, are you alright?"

"Never better," he grunted. He tried to sit up, but the Goddess of Sight pushed him back. "Rest. The war is over. We won."

"It seems we did," said Maruble.

Athema blinked, whipping her head towards him. She gasped, "Maruble?"

"You weren't expecting me?"

She threw her arms around him. "I knew you could do it. Even without the orb, I knew you would come. I've counted every day you were gone."

"I'm here now." He patted her on the back, glancing at Hartley. "But it seems I missed a few things."

Athema cleared her throat. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Maruble," called Balance from behind him. "Sorry to interrupt, but would you mind speaking with me for a moment?"

The God of Fire nodded, following Belthore into the crowd. They walked alongside the glimmering walls in silence. There were so many bodies scattered across the grass, and blood seeped into the ground. Just looking at it made him feel sick. If only he escaped the Underworld faster. If only he hadn't tried becoming human.

He shook his head. There was nothing he could do about it now. All he could do was embrace the choices he made and look towards the future.

"I wanted to thank you," said Balance, pulling him from his thoughts. "If you hadn't come, we would have fallen to Death's army. They would have taken the Court. By returning to Alta— however you managed it— you saved us all." He squeezed Maruble's hand. "I wondered every day if sending you to Earth was the right decision."

"I wouldn't change it for anything." Belthore gave him a questioning look, and he explained, "It was miserable. I wanted to come back home, but then I met two humans. They helped me, even when there was nothing to gain from it. I cared for them so much that I wanted to stay."

"What made you change your mind?"

"I have always lived for myself. I pushed everyone away and wondered why I felt lonely. But Alta was never the problem." Maruble paused, staring at the sunset, coloring his eyes a fiery orange. "The truth is, I love the godlands, and there's good that can be done here. I want to live my life without the curtains drawn."

Belthore nodded in understanding. "Will you ever go back?"

"I would like to visit one more time. To say goodbye." He added, "But I'm needed here first."

Belthore's face turned grim. "There are many cremations on the horizon, and Theon and Hartley will need time to heal before they're on their feet again. We would appreciate your help."

"Will they be okay?"

"It'll take more than that to take your stubborn father down," he snorted. "And Hartley is more strong-willed than you think."

"You don't have to tell me."

Belthore placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You've grown into a fine young man. My only regret is that I didn't show as much faith in you as Hartley did. You were lucky to have him on your side."

"Yes," said Maruble. "Yes, I was."

Belthore patted his back and walked away, returning to the rest of the Counsel. A few gods passed him, glaring at him uncertainly. Despite his help with the war, his reputation remained intact. But for all the bad things he had done, he needed to do something better in the future. Maruble squinted as the Court of Balance gleamed in front of him.

He didn't feel ready to return to Earth. Not yet. He only hoped that not much time would pass while he was gone, and he would get to see his friends one last time.

Maruble lit a single flame in his hand. Not too long ago, he felt powerless. Noctavius had called him the God of Embers, and he had been right. But now, he would fan those flames, letting them burn brighter than ever before.

No one trusted him yet, but he hoped they would learn to accept him with time. He was scared, and perhaps always would be— but he wanted more friends like Sarah and Jacob. Friends he made himself, working for something other than his own ideals.

Maruble took the first step towards the Court of Balance, letting the flame in his hand flicker out.