Evenjos floated above the apocalypse.

Below her, the planet Nuss turned, streaked with black smoke instead of white clouds. Oceans overflowed their shorelines. There were lava geysers. Tsunamis. Tectonic shifts, all caused by the mad titan.

She did not need to see the red rock desert to guess that Ariock had tossed it into oblivion. His mad fit was wrecking entire industrial facilities and arenas. She did not wish to see how many innocent people were dying.

Most living beings would suffocate way up here, in the frigid heights above the stratosphere. Few people ever ventured out an airlock, so there weren’t enough spacesuits to outfit a fleet, anyway. But Evenjos did not need that protection. She did not need to breathe.

Although she was corporeal, wearing her default goddess-empress form, it was a hollow shell. Frostbite did not touch her. She was composed of ice crystals. Her dust could withstand extreme temperatures.

If only she could transform herself into something useful, like a swarm of rescue shuttles.

Perhaps if Thomas walked her through such a transformation, she might have been able to pull it off? But she did not understand the engineering of things like starships. Therefore, she could not approximate mechanical objects, let alone the advanced molecular chemistry necessary for nuclear fusion reactions. She could not create bombs to rain down on Ariock.

Anatomy was a different matter. Evenjos had studied biology for more than a century, and she had gained intimate knowledge of how bodies functioned. She could repair bodily organs. She might even give herself the titanic strength of a leviathan or some other monstrosity.

She could attempt to wrestle Ariock with pure strength.

Or she could try to smother the storm titan with air pressure, or make him dizzy with tornadoes.

But Ariock would win any of those fights. And everyone within three thousand miles of them would die a horrible death.

So Evenjos merely watched the devastation. What else could she do? Maybe afterwards, once Ariock had depleted himself, she would seek out survivors and heal the injured? For now, she was as useless as dust against a titan more powerful than herself.

A tinny voice from her earpiece startled her. “Evenjos? Can you hear me? It’s Garrett.”

Evenjos pressed the earpiece closer. She did not technically need ears in order to hear, but the vibration of his voice was a comfort, even when filtered through an electronic device.

“I hear you,” she said.

She had shut off the general newsfeed. It was too depressing, just news of loss and devastation. She couldn’t listen to it. But her personal channel remained open. She was ready to hear from Garrett, or anyone in command.

Garrett sounded exhausted. “I can’t stop Ariock. I tried.”

“I saw.” Evenjos wondered why Garrett had tried so hard. There was a vast power differential between the craggy old warrior and his great-grandson. They had established that Ariock was out of his mind. He wasn’t hearing reason.

A few other warriors had inhaled the insanity gas. Anyone who breathed the invisible gas turned into a rampaging berserker. That was how Garrett had known for sure it was a weaponized neurotoxin. But by the time he could have warned the other warriors, it was too late.

There was no question, in Evenjos’s mind, about the intention of such a drug. It was the sort of ingenuity that Unyat had been capable of. This neurotoxin was specifically designed to take advantage of Ariock’s greatest weakness: His self-loathing.

Evenjos could only guess at which one of the Torth super-geniuses was responsible for this epic catastrophe. The boy Twin had used a version of insanity gas on his own people in order to pull off his vanishing act. Clearly, he had been developing it in his laboratory. His partner, the girl Twin, must have disseminated the evil recipe to factories on Nuss.

If Evenjos ever got her hands on either one of the Twins….

Her fists became icy hard rocks spiky with blades. Never mind the fact that they were fragile little children. Some crimes were too heinous for excuses.

Tens of thousands dead.

The death toll would likely be millions by the time Ariock depleted himself.

Evenjos had been a mad titan, once. Ariock had been unable to restrain her. Now that their roles were reversed, she was all too aware of the futility of trying to stop him—and the guilt he would suffer afterwards.

Jinishta wasn’t answering her supercom. She was likely dead because of Ariock.

Once Ariock was depleted of power, he would be wracked by guilt. He would cease to be any sort of threat to the Torth Empire. Then they would rampage through Ariock’s territories and re-conquer them, and re-enslave everyone. The death toll would rise to billions or worse.

Thomas, Garrett, and Evenjos herself might not survive the massacres.

So it didn’t matter how frail the cute little Torth super-geniuses were. They had not merely crossed a boundary. They had shredded the boundary into a bloody pulp, and then they’d blown up the remains with grenades. The masterminds behind this attack did not deserve to live.

“I’m near depletion.” Garrett sounded exhausted. “But I just got an emergency call from Freedomland. I have to go. I need to protect the boy.”

That shook Evenjos. She was more alarmed than she had felt since … well, since Elome had jabbed her in the back with an injection of the inhibitor. “Is Thomas in danger?”

They had been fools.

They had left Thomas alone on Reject-20 a few times before, but it was always in an unscheduled, spurious way. This time? They had played right into a Torth trap.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

A trap which Thomas had warned them about.

Evenjos cursed. Ariock might survive. He might even recover from this attack, someday. But without Thomas? No one else could possibly outthink the Torth super-geniuses.

If they lost Thomas, this war was over. They were done.

“I’ll come with you.” Evenjos felt frozen with fear, saying that. The last thing she wanted to do was face combat. But the fate of the galaxy was at stake.

“You can’t,” Garrett said.

“Yes I can.” Evenjos knew that Garrett could not bring an adult-sized passenger when he teleported, but she was malleable. She could make herself as light as a cloud, wrap herself around Garrett’s body, and … well. Anyway. She felt sure that she could, indeed, hitchhike across the galaxy using Garrett as a vehicle.

She scanned the roiling planet below her. “Where are you?”

“You don’t understand.” Garrett sounded almost like a zombie, he was so exhausted. “Even if I can bring you to Reject-20, I won’t have enough power to make a return trip to Nuss.”

The implications began to sink in.

“The Torth are circling Ariock like vultures,” Garrett said. “They’re waiting for him to die from his rage or reach depletion. They have forces everywhere. Waiting.”

Evenjos remembered how Audavian had kept her alive, like a snack in his cellar, ready to be used as a weapon of mass destruction against her own allies. She did not doubt that the Torth would use Ariock that way, if they could. They would keep him alive. Depleted, inhibited, possibly injured, but alive.

Until they found their own mind controllers.

Zombified victims could not access their own Yeresunsa powers. Such powers required the free will to explore emotional nuance. But even if the Torth did not zombify Ariock … if they only threatened him with it … that might be enough to control him.

Or they might use the lighter form of brainwashing; the fourth magnitude instead of the fifth. They might lightly brainwash Ariock just enough.

Just enough to turn all of his power against his friends.

Was that possible?

“Someone needs to protect him.” Garrett was begging. Evenjos heard the thickness in his voice. He was either in immense pain or on the verge of tears. “Please. I would never ask you to fight. But I’m begging you to keep an eye on him, and as soon as he starts to wind down? Grab him. Bring him somewhere safe. You’ve got to get to him before the Torth do.”

Evenjos felt inadequate. She didn’t think she could outsmart whichever Torth super-geniuses had masterminded this trap.

“I see,” she said.

“And heal his brain, if you can. Please. I’m afraid the insanity gas is deadly.” Garrett sounded final.

This was a goodbye.

Garrett was weakened, probably near depletion, yet he intended to pit himself against an unknown invasion force bent on destroying Thomas. As if he was invincible.

Because he put far too much trust into the paintings of that damnable child oracle, Ah Jun.

He refused to believe that her paintings were nothing more than hints and hopes. He assumed that everything was preordained. But he was wrong. Unlike the past, the future could transform.

“Wait.” Evenjos’s voice cracked. “Let me say goodbye. Where are you?”

Garrett told her.

Evenjos sank into the atmosphere. She flew through turbulent clouds of smoke, where the air was acrid enough to choke a normal person. CloudShadow MetroHub made sense. As a floating city, held aloft by a decadent array of electromagnetic thrust disks, it was unaffected by earthquakes. Storm winds shoved buildings into one another and caused wreckage, but the grand edifices had strong walls. They were merely damaged rather than wrecked.

Evenjos streamed through the broken windows of a rotunda.

Below her, worried people filled an indoor pavilion where Torth used to shop for luxury items. There were no Torth here, of course. Some of the people were armored for battle. Most looked battered. There were a lot of nussians with broken spikes, their lips tight with despair.

A cleared area, raised like a dais, included a few obvious leaders. Evenjos recognized the enormous red nussian, Nethroko.

Garrett was a broken wreck.

He lay against a retaining wall, crumpled as if crushed, both legs broken despite his armor. His chest plate looked smashed. A blood-soaked bandage wrapped his head, but blood still seeped into his beard and hair.

“You are injured!” Evenjos coalesced next to him, so quickly and forcefully, she had to readjust her balance in order to get into the healing pose. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I did. Garrett added wry humor to his thoughts, letting her know that his tone was not serious. Why else would I have enticed you to come to me?

It was a wonder he had enough good humor left to be obnoxious. As Evenjos delved his body, she sensed that every part of him was pulverized. He barely had enough consciousness for speech. Calling her must have taken heroic effort.

“I tried to knock Ariock out,” Garrett mumbled, on the verge of losing consciousness from blood loss and pain. “Tried my best.”

Evenjos poured energy into his life spark.

Garrett writhed, his body arching. He momentarily lifted off the ground from the force of her healing.

When she was done, Garrett dropped back to the floor, and she sensed his ravenous hunger in the aftermath of healing. His bones were set and mended. His blood was replenished. His wounds were gone.

“I love how you do that.” Garrett gave her a rakish look as he struggled to sit up.

He ripped the filthy bandage off his head, using his hands like a child. No doubt he wanted to conserve what little raw power he had left.

Evenjos left his armor uncomfortably dented. She rose to her feet. She did not care if she loomed over the old man, shining and proud. She wore an opalescent dress, with opalescent wings framing her statuesque figure. Was it possible to impress upon Garrett that he was a foolish twit?

“You could have gotten yourself killed,” she said. “You nearly did.”

“Yeah, I’m fine now, thanks to you.” Garrett extended a hand, wanting help to get to his feet. It seemed he had lost his silver staff. No doubt he would make a new one, when he could.

Evenjos hauled him to his feet.

Behind her, the huge nussian rumbled. “Someone had to try to stop the Son of Storms.”

Was that a passive-aggressive rebuke?

Aimed at her?

A goddess? A perfect being?

Evenjos nearly turned to give Nethroko an arch look. But she could not quite manage to feel self-righteous. This floating pavilion was filled with injured pilots, battered soldiers, and people who were mourning dead loved ones. They were terrified and grieving.

Ariock might accidentally destroy their world in his mad rage.

Who could say if these people would survive the destruction? Even if their world survived—would they be enslaved?

She could not meet their gazes. At least Garrett had tried to save them. True, he had stupidly put his life at risk. He could have died, fighting Ariock. But there was something noble about that. The way Garrett was willing to throw everything he had into an endeavor … it made a statement. It left no room for doubt. Garrett cared about winning. He would do anything to defeat the Torth—to “kick their asses,” as he colloquially put it. He would even attack his beloved great-grandson.

“The reports from Freedomland have me worried,” Garrett told her, apologetic. “I need to go.”

“Of course,” Nethroko rumbled. “Do not let Torth take Kessa the Wise.”

Garrett’s armor was stained and badly dented. His beard and hair remained dirty. He looked ready to keel over, and Evenjos sensed his exhaustion and hunger.

And his unshakable faith in his destiny.

His determination to win, no matter what.

Evenjos realized that she would not be able to talk Garrett out of running headlong into danger again.

And perhaps she should not.

It was improper to show obvious affection in public. It would start a million rumors, if the people here survived. If she threw her arms around Garrett, commoners might forget that they were leaders, and instead see them as ordinary—

Garrett roughly seized her, and crushed her against his armored chest. He kissed her with savage abandon.

Evenjos’s feet were off the floor. She kissed Garrett back, and never mind who watched.

She flexed her wings, enjoying the unfamiliar sensation of being unexpectedly embraced. Garrett didn’t seem to resent her for being afraid to battle Ariock. Instead, he emanated trust. He cared about her in totality, without reservations.

Love.

So this was love.

The fierce hug ended, as all things must.

Garrett set her down, and gave her one last look that was all promise. Then his eyes glazed into the clairvoyant trance.

He vanished with a faint popping sound and a trace of ozone.

Evenjos remained alone in the overcrowded pavilion, with thousands of gazes aimed her way.