KARMA.

Perspective shift.

Brother Augur and I sat within the Odenan Amphitheater. Looking over to my left revealed Mara, still as a statue, hands folded in her lap, wide eyes focused on the arena below. On the other side of Brother Augur sat Lisara and Johan, holding hands, fear leaking through their determined expressions. None of them so much as glanced our way.

Much of the seating in the Amphitheater was occupied. Here and there, terrified humans sat in clusters. The demons far outnumbered them.

They made a bizarre spectacle, bright as peacocks compared to the mortals; only Brother Augur retained his original coloring. Most of the demons favored a humanoid shape, though each had their own unique appearance. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of them. Some had heads like lions and eagles and bulls. Upside-down faces. Horns of chitin. Women of unearthly beauty with lotuses tattooed all over their porcelain skin. Giants so large their frames took up several seats, next to dwarves with variegated beards or multiple heads or . . .

I could have spent hours observing all the different forms the demons had assumed. But the one in the center of the arena drew all of my attention. A six-armed being that gleamed as if it were made of gold, hands contorting in a constant stream of gestures. Instead of eyes, a pair of white runes had been painted onto the upper half of its face, and though I had never seen them before, deep within they represented. Missed opportunity. Desperate failure.

Brother Augur glanced over at me. “Lost Moment.”

When the demon spoke, its voice transmitted directly into my mind. It sounded soft, mournful.

“We begin,” it said, “with the main event. Afterward, four bouts of single combat, followed by an interlude at the end.”

It bowed to the crowd four times, once in each cardinal direction.

“Violence, my friends, violence,” it said. “No demon has invaded a mortal city for centuries. We have brought them to you for this special purpose. Every warrior has been personally evaluated to make sure they are not in danger. The humans are priests of the imposter-god Vasely, unused to combat. Those who refuse to sully their hands with filthy blood will fight one another for our entertainment. Let it be said that no one is forced to participate.”

A familiar speech. We had been sitting in much the same arrangement when Barrow made his own declaration. It felt right, that the end should loop back to the beginning, or at least this grim parody of it. Only Caedius and the other Karystans were missing. Most likely dead, though part of me that somehow remained optimistic thought perhaps they had been judged innocent and made it out before the tesseract swallowed the city.

My biggest concern was where Felix had gone.

“Tonight, we host a special Game in Odena,” said Lost Moment. “You have the option to leave at any time, but there is no cause for alarm. I am here to protect you, and there are others hidden among you. Tonight, the warriors of Desolada will face humans.”

The crowd of demons went frantic in precisely the way the mortals had not. They cheered, clapped whatever number of hands they had, threw silk scarves high into the air, as if they were attending some bacchanalia and the wine had been distributed generously.

Chanting nonsense, Lost Moment proceeded to dance in mockery of the sacred movements meant to consecrate a battlefield. As it moved, sand swirled, buoyed on currents of wind. I recognized the pattern of movement as the inverse of what the Four Winds had demonstrated to open the ceremony.

“As planned, Lost Moment consumed the Archon. You can see it using his power.” Brother Augur leaned back, grim amusement writ clear across his face. “Almost makes you yearn for a cup of sweetbark, doesn’t it?”

Mara shook her head at the comment, life returning to her glazed eyes. She drew both hands up to her chin, like a child clutching a blanket, her voice horrified. “Oh, Increate. Increate. The visions stopped. How long . . . how long has it been?”

“If I were forced to guess,” said Brother Augur, “I would approximate around a minute and fifty-seven seconds. Quite a while to remain sane under Lost Moment’s spell, but you never really did much to deserve all of this. The visions cannot be too bad, though I admit I never have asked.”

Lost Moment ceased dancing. Its fingers returned to their frenzied contortions. The vitality drained from Mara’s face, pupils drifting to the back of her head to reveal only whites. Johan’s hand drifted to his side, removed a dagger, and placed it against his neck. Without looking, Brother Augur reached out with preternatural quickness, seizing the boy’s wrist a moment before the steel tip pricked his throat.

“Too much of a mess,” the philosopher explained, taking the knife from Johan. The big boy lapsed back into his trance. “The demon known as Lost Moment forces all who witness it to relive the worst moments of their lives. Eventually even the strongest wills and most innocent souls will commit suicide. Any who do so are under its thrall until the day Lost Moment is finally destroyed.”

Searching the crowd revealed several human bodies slumped over. Pink blood leaked from their wounds; after leaving their body it swiftly faded to gray. Horrified, I moved to stand and try and help the others however I could. Brother Augur forced me back into my seat.

The philosopher shook his head. “There is no point.”

“Why is it not affecting us, then?” I shoved his hands off me. “Are you trying to pretend you have no regrets? I certainly have plenty. If it can steal the Archon’s power, what would it do with yours? With mine?”

“Simple,” he said. “It is not affecting us because I politely asked Lost Moment not to. More of a courtesy than anything. And even if it acquired our powers, it would have to learn to use them. Imperfectly at that. Why waste prime magics on a General?”

Politely asked it not to. So absurd I wanted to laugh. Perhaps my mind had already been dominated, forced to live within this terrible vision for all eternity while Lost Moment learned to master my time magic.

A man in the robes of an Odenan clergyman stumbled out of the south gate. When he saw the howling crowd, his knees buckled, and he fell to the sand on all fours. Lost Moment floated toward him, all three sets of hands pressed together in front of it as if it were about to pray. The mortal priest pressed his face into the sand, either in supplication to the demon or to blind himself to its approach.

Lost Moment knelt in front of the priest, a horizontal crease forming along the lower half of its face. A primitive mouth full of teeth opened wide, lowered until it touched the back of the man’s head. Even from the middle seats of the Amphitheater I could see the man shaking uncontrollably. Nothing happened. What was that? A kiss?

The demon stood and gestured back toward the north gate. The clergyman must have felt the motion deep in his soul, because he complied despite having his face in the sand. Keeping his gaze focused on the ground, he stood in his assigned spot.

“What is this?” I asked. “Is this supposed to be the main event?

“I believe it was referring to the dance it did earlier,” said Brother Augur. “The demon fancies itself to be clever. Watch.”

The scene repeated three more times with nearly identical results. The four priests stood in the four corners of the Amphitheater, heads bowed.

“And now,” said Lost Moment, “for the interlude.”

From the Gate of Death emerged Felix.

I wished I was surprised, but the dread had been building ever since I realized our location. This whole farce had to include him. One final parallel to complete the karmic tale.

My friend held his head high, not reacting to the crowd of demons, or even the General standing in the center of the arena. He moved with the same restrained grace he adopted whenever his pride took a blow, as if he was on the edge of beautiful violence. As he neared Lost Moment, he held his scabbard aloft and unsheathed his blade in one fluid motion.

The last of the sun’s light disappeared behind the horizon as the blue hour ended. Complete silence fell over the crowd. Nothing moved. Except for Brother Augur.

The philosopher stood. “That boy has more courage than we ever will, Leones. He is a greater hero than any you have ever heard of. Without him, mankind will fall, city by city, person by person. If not in our lifetime, then the next, or the one after. No matter what I attempt, no matter how many times I try, nothing works without his sacrifice.”

The edges of reality began to blur, refocused into perfect clarity, blurred once more. I rubbed my hands together and barely felt anything—a memory of touch, not the real thing.

High above the full moon shone bright. A black point appeared within its center, expanded, an eclipse that swallowed every speck of white until only darkness remained. The expansion spread, eating into the night sky, turning it into the flat white void. A sky I had seen before.

Desolada.

From the black moon came an overwhelming presence, a sinuous thread of gold that drifted through the white heavens. A being of incomprehensible size, capable of swimming between the stars. As it descended it grew larger, more defined, taking on a serpentine outline.

“Astaroth is an angel?” I asked.

“The Goetia were something like that, in the beginning.” Brother Augur fists clenched at his sides. For once his voice sounded strained, angry. “What you see is not his true form. He is nothing more than an ancient consciousness. Incapable of learning anything new. Destined to repeat the same mistakes for eternity.”

On the sands below, Felix offered his sword to Lost Moment. The General accepted the blade and pointed it at the figure approaching from the heavens. Astaroth’s approval echoed throughout the world, overpowering my own mind long enough to feel some echo of the demon lord’s mind. Dark and unfathomably deep, like the ocean depths.

With a flourish, the Lost Moment reversed the blade of the sword and plunged the weapon into its own chest. Blue ichor splashed across the dull sands. The demon collapsed to its knees; at the same time each of the priests echoed the exact same motion, clutching their hearts.

Felix watched as the life bled from the General. Lost Moment’s chin slumped to its chest. It fell to the side, did not move again.

“Astaroth,” announced my friend, his voice ringing throughout the world. I could hear him as if he stood right beside me. “Accept me as your vessel. All of me is yours. My heart, my mind, my soul, unwavering in devotion. Tread upon the mortal world with my feet. Speak truth with my tongue. Conquer with my hands. May this body never fail you until the end of time.”

His speech ended, Felix pushed the corpse of the golden demon onto its back. With both hands he drew his ichor-stained blade from Lost Moment’s chest. Reality trembled. The golden serpent in the sky drew closer, hundreds of wings flexing as it sped toward Savra.

Brother Augur turned toward me and smiled. “There is so much I wish I could teach you, Leones, but you would be destined to repeat my mistakes. You must find your own path forward, but know that you are not alone. Throughout the Physical Realm, there are infinite versions of us, but there is only one Astaroth. I am proud of what you have accomplished, even if you have so much farther to go. Though I must admit, you and Felix have made an art out of finding creative ways to die. Finding the right path took longer than I hoped.”

I was at a loss for words. “I . . . I don’t understand what you mean.”

“One day you will,” said the philosopher. He gestured at Dasein. “I appreciate you taking care of my sword, but I am afraid I will be needing it.”

Down below, Felix plunged his own sword through his heart.

Reality flickered.

Astaroth opened His eyes.

What a fine vessel. A most pleasing golden form, though retaining much of that boy’s appearance. The final result of Lost Moment merging with the sacrifices matched every calculation precisely. As pathetic and fragile as the human body was, it could be sculpted into perfection once one discovered the right instruments.

No physical form on Savra could match him. Every whisper, every brush of wind against a surface—even the snowflakes. Astaroth heard everything. Though merging with Desolada had muted most of the colors within the tesseract, what a wonder it was to view the workings of the Physical Realm from within. Infinite shades of gray and white and black. Infinite shapes. And the sense of touch. Phenomenal. Cool air along exposed flesh. Millions of grains of sand, shifting in response to the lightest adjustment, settling into new configurations.

There was, however, a problem.

It was too much. Without the burden of a physical form, Astaroth could analyze, calculate, and sort through such information in moments. Adjusting to corporeal reality would take some time. Sixty-four years, eight months, three days, ten hours, five minutes, twelve seconds, according to his mental calculations.

Until then, Astaroth could not so much as twitch a finger, but nothing on Savra could harm him. Even if this body were destroyed, his mind would return to Desolada. After countless aeons of waiting, sixty-four years meant nothing. The tesseract would last until the end of time, a bridge between realities that the demon lord could cross at will.

That was not the problem.

The problem was Morningstar’s Echo, that paragon of human arrogance. The so-called Brother Augur. He sat beside Astaroth on the sand in the lotus position, ivory sword resting across his lap.

“Look at you,” he said. “Astaroth, Great Duke of Desolada, lying in the sand and drooling on himself. Calculated every possible circumstance, did you? I must admit, it took quite a few attempts to make it here. You are right to never trust us mortals. All those contingencies you made. Forcing me to bind the tesseract to my soul, so I can never destroy it without ending my own life. Even if I wanted to, that would not be the end of you. You would manifest back in Desolada, moving on to your next plan.”

Let the foolish mortal prattle. Astaroth continued working on his calculations.

“I accept every oath I have broken,” said the man. “All the trust I have lost. Again and again, the same faces with the same betrayed looks. All the corpses in my path. I embrace all those foul deeds. The loss of my humanity. Every mistake. Every stupid decision. Every action I took led me here, and I regret none of it. I am only relieved that it is finally over.

“You see, Astaroth, I know that I cannot destroy you. But the tesseract and everything within it are under my control. I was never much for mathematics, let alone dimensionalism. You provided that. But the magic comes from me. I can rewrite the physical laws here. Dilate time. Speed it up. We can experience eternity in a second, or a second as eternity. I can shrink it, even, down to the size of this arena. Even now the forces of the mortal world are sweeping through the newly-freed city of Odena, rescuing the survivors, sending your forces back to that afterthought you call a realm.

“It’s just you and I, on the sand, forever. Allow me to introduce myself in truth this time. My name is Leones Ansteri, and here, you will worship me as your god.”