Dante’s world froze as the flames and smoke cleared, and Scarlet crumpled to the ground in what seemed like slow motion.

It was so much worse than in his dream, knowing it was real this time. What he needed to do had felt impossible until this moment, but that was why he could only do it now—in his desperation, his power rang through him clearer than ever before. He lunged forward, but Jayden caught his arm.

He swung around to his sister. “Let go.”

Jayden only tightened her hold on him. “Look. I have Barek’s sword.”

His eyes flickered to the crystalline weapon in her other hand. “There’s no time for that now.”

“You have to heal Barek. I know we can do it, the two of us, we need one more shot—”

“I have to help Scarlet.”

“It’s too late for her! Help me. Help us. This is the last sword.”

Dante glanced back to Scarlet. Her body was safe for now, but precious seconds were ticking by. Ange was nearly the last person standing between her and Riordan. All around were Vanguardians and Ravens, dead, and the survivors desperately trying to escort the more severely injured away from the next volatile round breaking out between Ange and Riordan.

“Keep the sword and yourself safe, okay?”

The hurt in his sister’s eyes was immense as her hand went slack, releasing him. He wished he could help her right now. Turning her away felt like a betrayal of their bond. She was his little sister, the last of his family. But to protect her in the long run, he had to help Scarlet.

“I’m so sorry, Jayden. For everything. But I have to go.”

Dante fought back tears. This is worse than leaving her in Briarglen. He pushed aside his rising emotions, he couldn’t lose control now. He rushed toward Scarlet, dangerously close to where Ange was taking her last stand against Riordan.

Safely, he made it to her side, and knelt down next to her. “Scarlet. Scarlet?”

She was just barely conscious. “Dante…?”

Dante tried to pour energy into her but it wouldn’t stick, it ran right back out. He knew it wouldn’t work, but he had to try. She was fading fast.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I couldn’t do it. I don’t have a sword. Even if I did—”

“You did everything you could.”

Her eyes fluttered closed. He was losing her.

But he couldn’t. He didn’t know for sure which of the paths Io had shown him that he would take today, until now. Whichever one of them survived would have to kill Riordan. It has to be Scarlet. I don’t have it in me. It’s too selfish for me to live when I can save her, and she can do what needs to be done.

Dante took a breath, took Scarlet’s hand, and began to press in with his newly discovered insight magic. On the surface, she was numb as her soul drifted away. Digging in deeper, he could feel her fear, her heart beating erratically. Slowly, she was surrendering to the void, to the stream of souls. He needed to dive even deeper, now, straight into her consciousness, if he wanted to help her live.

He released his body, letting his mind flow freely into hers. No longer was he surrounded by the horrors of the battlefield, but instead he was in a dark, open space. It was like being in a vision, some sort of empty dreamspace. The void pressed in around him, heavy and stagnant, almost like he was underwater.

In his gut, he knew it should be flowing, moving, but instead it was still. With nothing but darkness in every direction, Dante was small, insignificant, scared.

He took a moment to center himself. Where was Scarlet, in all this? He looked around, but couldn’t see her. Wait, there—he spotted a thread, a thin string of energy. He grabbed onto it, closed his eyes within this vision, and traced it to its source, zooming through this strange space. When his eyes opened, Scarlet was in front of him.

She held her legs tight against her chest, curling herself so small. Her edges blurred, she wasn’t solid.

“Scarlet?”

She didn’t look up at him.

“Scarlet, let me help you.”

Her response was muffled. “No.”

He floated closer to her. “Please.”

She looked up, met his gaze. Her usually bright eyes were empty. “You always want to help. You want to save everyone—”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“—you don’t even want to be here. You’re afraid, you think you’re weak. Just go home.”

Those words cut him, but he didn’t let himself waver. “Of course I’m scared. I wasn’t made for this. You’re right, I don’t want to fight—but I have to.”

Scarlet scoffed. “It was your choice to become an emissary.”

“No. I don’t have to do this because of Death. I can’t go home, I’m fighting for my home. And I won’t let Riordan keep Saridian in discord, keep killing mages for no reason other than they’re mages, abusing other gods, everything, all of it! That’s not the World I want to live in, and if that means I die, I go to a whole new World, then so be it.”

Scarlet said nothing, for a while, staring at him dully. “Then go. Go fight, finish this. You aren’t the one who’s going to die. I am.”

“You won’t, if you let me help you.”

Her eyebrows drew in tight, her edges smudged a bit more as energy ran out of her faster. “I don’t need saving.”

“You always want to do everything alone.”

“I have to.”

“Scarlet—”

“I have to, Dante! I have to.” Scarlet ran her hands through her tangled hair. “You don’t get it. I can’t rely on other people to stick around. I can’t be the little girl, waiting to be rescued. If I’m going to do this, I need to do it myself.”

Dante could feel her helplessness, her fear, swirling all around him. Her inner fire, her resolve, her stubbornness. “You’re strong. Scarlet, you are the strongest person I know. That’s why you’re the one out there in Riordan’s face—not me. It’s not just because you’re a better mage. You’re braver, tougher, more determined. But that doesn’t mean you can do it alone.” He wrapped his arms around her, and for once, she let him pull her close. “You don’t have to do it alone.”

Scarlet let her defenses crack open. Her emotions poured out: her fear, her helplessness, and beneath all of it, her affection for him. And, he could sense now what was wrong: Scarlet was stretched thin, torn between two places. Part of her soul was trapped in the Crossworld, beginning to slip into the Nextworld, and trying to bring the rest along with it. Death was right, Scarlet was as good as dead—part of her had been gone, the rest only staying attached to her body because of Death’s tether.

Death couldn’t figure out how to bring the rest of Scarlet back, but Dante had to. He had the advantage of being deep within Scarlet’s psyche.

“I’ll be back,” he told her. Scarlet released him from the embrace and gave him a solemn nod.

He flew away deeper into her consciousness, following the trail of her torn soul. He arrived at a stream of energy that pulled him along swiftly. He was surrounded by souls, flowing along beside him. They were a part of the stream, but he was separate still, like oil in water.

Was this where Scarlet’s soul met the stream of souls? He had to find her missing pieces. Dante tried to swim through the stream, it was difficult to push through the rapid current. He reached out with his mind into the mass of souls, trying to pinpoint Scarlet, but everything rushed by too quickly.

What had he done in his vision, the one where he succeeded? That too, had flown by so fast. In the dreams in which he failed, he spent too much time searching, trying to seek out the missing parts of Scarlet.

Then, it came to him. He didn’t need to reach out and find her, he had to call her to him. He closed his eyes again.

Scarlet. The passionate one, the distant one. A fire that couldn’t be quenched, for even her smoldering coals resisted—they would always sting with heat. She was strong, even in fear. Powerful, yet lacking control.

Come back home, he urged. Rejoin yourself. I can take you there. I promise, you can trust me. Scarlet—

A half-solid hand met his. He opened his eyes to see a transparent Scarlet clutching onto him.

Bring me home, she said, not out loud, but he could feel the words resounding in his mind.

The stream of souls didn’t want to let go of him now, and even more than that, of her. Death hadn’t been able to pull Scarlet out of it, not all the way. But Dante knew he was different, he could do it.

He knew her enough that he could separate what parts were her, and what parts were the nebulous stream trying to carry her away. He plucked all that was Scarlet out of the stream, then ripped himself out of its grasp too. With all his might, he stole them away from the stream of souls, back to the shallower parts of Scarlet’s inner self.

He landed back in the void, dizzy for a moment before he could sit up. When he did, Scarlet was sitting right in front of him in the dreamspace, her edges now solid.

“I feel… I feel like a person again. Like myself.” Scarlet blinked, letting a tear run down her cheek. “Thank you.”

He could see the inferno in her, blazing stronger than before. Life glinted in her eyes, along with her tears. She was more beautiful than ever.

“You’re everything,” he said. His heart burned as brightly as she did.

Scarlet leaned in toward him. Dante hadn’t seen this part in his visions. One kiss was all he wanted, before it was over. Her lips were nearly touching his, and his heart pounded so hard that his chest might burst—

And then it did—with pain. The moment was stolen from him as he was thrown out of the dreamspace, screaming, thrust back into his body just in time for it to slump forward into the grass. Agony radiated from a point on his back. He managed to turn his head to see Riordan towering over him, grinning, power crackling in his raised fist.

And then the god brought his hand down.