Aria shrugged off her fear. “I’ll keep Alogun alive and torture him every now and then.”

“It makes no difference,” Achi said. “There will come a day when you feel satisfied by your vengeance. And that day will be your last.”

Aria tried to consider the matter, tried to calm the raging storm inside her, and look at those gathered with clear eyes. She tried to imagine herself letting them live. And failed. If death was the price for her victory, she would pay it.

“I don’t have time for this,” she said. “You said you would kill Tivelo. Did you mean that or is it another lie? Isn’t he the one holding this rubble together?”

Achi glanced at the ground around them still crisscrossed with lines.

“Alogun managed to patch it up so far,” Achi said. “The others will continue his work. If they abandon two of the realms, they can work together to support the third.”

Aria shrugged. It meant little to her with her own death approaching. “Well?” She asked. “Will you do it or not?”

Achi turned to his father. As their eyes met, they exchanged silent words, noticeable only by the shifting of their expressions. It went on so long, that Aria moved to taunt Achi again.

Then, Tivelo dropped.

He went down like a puppet suddenly released by its master, knees and head simply losing strength. Achi shot forward and caught him, on his face a look Aria had never seen there before: grief mixed with terror. There was none of the resolve a man should have when he chose to kill his own father.

Aria felt something ease inside her, like a persistent pressure relieved. One of her tormenters was gone and she felt it like a weight pulled off her whole body. She was lighter, freer, closer to death. Achi remained holding his father, his grief silent but loud on his face. Aria allowed him his indulgence.

She turned to the other deities, delighted to see the dread on their faces. Had they enjoyed it this much when they condemned her?

“We had a deal,” Chalik said. “We helped you revive Achi.”

“Oh,” Aria said. “That’s correct. Achi, I command you to command Tivelo not to punish these fools. I want to do the work myself.”

Achi frowned at her in confusion. Tears had pooled in his eyes, but they did not fall.

She turned away, pained and annoyed by the sight of the tears.

Who is next? Ah, Garo.

She smiled at the God of War, and he tensed recognizing her intent.

“How do I kill Garo?” She asked Achi.

He lay his father tenderly on the ground and turned to her. The waiting tears had finally fallen, streaking his face and reddening his eyes. She held back from snapping at him. He had not cried for her, but he cried for her tormentor.

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“Garo cannot lose a duel,” Achi said, so softly that any breeze might have carried the words away. “Challenge him to a duel. If he loses, you can kill him.”

Aria felt the hum of danger, the knowledge that she was walking closer to death, yet she turned to Garo and smiled again. Garo replied with an enraged glare but that amused Aria all the more.

“I challenge you to a duel,” she said.

She turned to Achi and asked, “is that all?”

He nodded.

She turned back to Garo and barely dodged the fist that came flying past her. A moment later he was back to his place, pulled back by her power, but he was soon moving again, at a speed she could barely track. His second attack connected, sending her flying before she knew that she had been hit.

She shook off her disorientation and shot to her feet. Fortunately, she was now far enough from Garo that he could not reach her in the time before his reset. Unfortunately, he was prepared for that. His spear came flying at her faster than Garo himself had been. She dove to the ground again and escaped it, but not the two knives that followed behind it. One caught her in the shin while the other sliced the side of her throat. For a brilliant moment, she was back in Garo’s palace, his knife pinning her to his wall, his terrible presence filling the room, tasting her own fear and the certainty of approaching doom.

She froze on the ground, held in place by visions. The world around her had disappeared; she could only see Garo’s quarters and his terrifying face inches from her own. More knives Pierced her, sticking in her chest, her neck, her side. Pain shot through her, different from the flames she had just escaped but similar in its sharpness. She saw the flames in her mind again, felt fury at being used like a mindless rag, and then her mind was clear.

One more knife pierced her, but the next one missed. She teleported to a random position and found herself on Garo’s left. Then, while Garo was still focused on her last position, pulled out one of the knives he had thrown at her and sent it at him. He dodged it, but it had been a distraction; she was already moving. She appeared behind him, took his neck in both hands, and snapped it. Or she attempted to. It felt like trying to bend steel. Garo spun around, once again faster than she had anticipated, and backhanded her, throwing her several hundred feet away. She rolled on the landing, escaping the knives he quickly sent after her.

How many more does he have?

Teleporting out of the way once again, she played her last card and set him on fire.

She poured all of her strength into it, summoning power from her memories, from her pain, and terror, and grief, and feeding them into flames.

As expected, the flames did nothing, but she recalled his other vulnerability and forced the through his nostrils and down his throat. When he opened his mouth in a gasp, she forced flames down there too.

Garo thrashed and dropped to the ground, struggling like a ship caught by a storm. He punched, kicked, rolled, hurled himself at her. But he never reached her. Halfway to her position, he dropped to the ground again and remained there, struggling ferociously.

Seconds later, he was pulled back to his anchored point, he fell to the ground there, rose and fell again, tugged this way and that by the battle between gravity and Aria’s anchor. Aria strengthened the flames, putting everything she had into them, reveling in her growing relief, but not letting it dampen her caution. She let him burn until only bones remained. Then she let him burn some more until she was completely certain that he could not be alive.

The fires faded to complete silence. She stood still, staring at the charred bones, silly with disbelief while her heart stopped pounding and her breathing returned to normal. When her caution had subsided enough, she risked a glance at Achi. She let him see her relief, her triumph. But his eyes did not mirror hers. Instead of pride or respect, she saw despair.

She turned from him to the only other thing there was to see - Chalik and Alogun - still fixed to their places and watching with alarm.

“Well?” She said, “Who’s next?”