Kingo watched as Phastos manipulated the golden interface above their heads with sharp, controlled hand motions, rings of cosmic energy encircling each of his fingers. A larger version of the handheld globe the technopath used to scan and track the planet hung in the centre of the room, with clusters of indicators marking Eternal cosmic energy signatures. A representation of a Stark Industries satellite sat next to it, currently in the process of being neatly disassembled, its mechanisms laid bare to Phastos’ prying eyes.

  When they’d arrived, Phastos had been a little put out by the current condition of his workshop inside the Domo—without Ajak or one of the more responsible Eternals around to temper Makkari’s impulses, the last few centuries had seen the entire ship cluttered with the results of her every larcenous whim. As the fastest woman in the universe, there was very little that could stand in her way when she made up her mind that she wanted something. She was like a magpie, her ‘nest’ piled high with valuable, precious and beautiful things that she’d acquired for herself over the years.

  Off to one side, Sprite was currently taking advantage of the collection, poking through a pile of ancient vellum manuscripts. The short Eternal was all sharp elbows and attitude packed into a body that looked twelve years old, a shock of red hair above bright, searching eyes.

  Karun stood beside Kingo, eyes wide with wonder as he surveyed one of the haphazardly stacked mounds of priceless relics. The man had visibly relaxed a little when Ikaris had left them, but Kingo was still at a bit of a loss as to what to do about him being there. His presence had caused only minor questions from the others so far, but what would happen when it was time for Ajak to explain the truth to the others? It still didn’t feel right, hiding what was going on from his friend—if Earth really did only have a handful of years left, it would be better if Karun knew so that he wouldn’t waste what little time remained. But he didn’t want to paint a target on his valet’s back, either. Ajak seemed to understand that the man posed no threat, but there was a nagging worry in the back of Kingo’s mind that Ikaris would consider a random human knowing about the Emergence an unacceptable loose end.

  Across from Kingo and Karun, Sersi stood talking quietly with Ajak. The woman was as elegant and beautiful as ever, her long, dark hair pinned away from her face. Kingo wondered what sort of reunion she’d have with Ikaris once he caught back up with them. He still wasn’t entirely sure what had happened between the two of them, but knowing now that Ajak had confided in Ikaris about the Emergence long ago, it wasn’t too hard to piece together what might’ve caused Ikaris to withdraw. Sersi had always been the kindest of them—empathetic, caring, the most in-tune with humanity. It would have hurt to hide the truth from her.

  Kingo tore his eyes away from the interface again, glancing over toward where Druig—pale and wiry under his leather jacket, with sharp cheekbones and jet-black hair that hung just over his eyes—was sidling up to Makkari. “So, how did you end up scoring this Emerald Tablet…” the mind controller produced an ancient, dark green slab from behind his back, “my beautiful, beautiful Makkari?”

  Makkari’s mouth formed an ‘O’ of surprise and annoyance and she lunged for it, but Druig moved his arms, keeping his body between her and the tablet so that, when she stepped in, she was almost nose-to-nose with him. A smile curled the corners of his mouth as he playfully kept it just out of the other Eternal’s reach. There was a beat of silence, a distinctly charged tension in the air between them as she smiled back at him, their eyes remaining locked on each other. After a moment, her hands darted in once again—almost too fast to track, this time—and snatched the artifact away from him.

  Druig let her take it. “Did you miss me?” he asked softly, signing the words to her at the same time. She didn’t respond, though she still looked happy as she cradled the Emerald Tablet close to her side and made no immediate move to step away from him.

  “Is this new?” Kingo asked, raising his voice slightly to make sure the two of them heard him. “Because I hate it.”

  He almost instantly regretted it, kicking himself mentally as Druig turned to fix him with a piercing look. As Makkari stepped away to put the stolen tablet back in its place, Druig’s eyes flitted to Karun. “I didn’t realise it was bring-your-human-to-work day,” he said with false levity, starting over toward them as he tucked his hands behind his back. “I could have brought some friends of my own. Had a little tea party.”

  Kingo turned to him more fully, partially interposing himself between Karun and the other Eternal. “C’mon, Druig, don’t be silly—we both know you don’t have any friends.”

  Druig gave a sarcastic smile, then his eyes clouded over with gold. Kingo turned just as Karun straightened up, his own eyes similarly obscured as the mind controller puppeted him. His valet slapped himself in the face, then marched over to the side of the room, facing the wall like a naughty child.

  “Hey! No, enough!” Kingo’s hands tensed at his sides, a brief instant away from manifesting his own power. “New rule: no more possessing people’s valets.”

  Druig’s eyes cleared and Karun looked around, blinking confusedly. The mind controller bared his teeth in an unfriendly grin. “Oh? Whatever happened to your sense of humour, Kingo?”

  Kingo rounded on him, stepping in close as he lowered his voice. “You’re not a god. You know that, right?”

  “How ironic, Kingo the movie star.”

  He paused at that. “I’ve directed some things, too.”

  “Oh, yeah? Like what?” Druig challenged, matching his tone.

  “Some internet content.”

  “How many views?”

  I don’t do it for the views,” Kingo responded, feeling a little defensive.

  “Enough,” Ajak’s voice interrupted them, mild but still commanding.

  Kingo reluctantly took a step back. Druig didn’t move at first, staring at him with those sharp, flinty blue eyes for a few more seconds before he turned his head to acknowledge the Prime Eternal as she approached.

  Ajak walked over to them slowly, Sersi at her side. “Thank you for coming, Druig. I’m glad you’re here,” she said, her tone genuine.

  He exhaled sharply through his nose. “Yes, well. I’m not. And I’m going to be rather cross if what you dragged me here for isn’t really an emergency. Why was that, again?”

  She inclined her head. “As I’ve already said, we’ll talk it through once everyone is here.”

  “Of course,” he said, clicking his tongue as his face twisted into something unpleasant. “It will be good to see Ikaris again.”

  Sersi shot him an empathetic look. “Please try not to fight with him,” she asked, but he just shrugged.

  Kingo took the opportunity to move away, heading over to where Karun was standing. His valet’s forehead was creased, and he was rubbing gently at the side of his face when Druig had made him slap himself.

  “Are you okay?” Kingo asked him quietly.

  “Yes, sir,” Karun said, straightening again and shooting him a brief smile. “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “You have nothing to apologise for. Druig sucks.”

  “…He does, sir.”

  “Something’s wrong,” Phastos said, raising his voice to draw everyone’s attention. As Kingo looked over, the technopath gestured, dismissing the Stark tech blueprints to focus on the globe. A few more quick hand motions and the live map of the world expanded and started to rotate slowly, keeping one of the markers—now a moving target—directly in front of Phastos as it began to trace a path across the Earth.

  Everyone stopped what they were doing, turning and gravitating toward the display. “What is it?” Ajak asked, a note of concern in her voice.

  Phastos pointed. “Thena’s signature almost vanished. Ikaris is heading this way. Fast.”

  All eyes in the room were fixed on the golden indicator tracking Ikaris’s progress as it lifted high above the surface of the globe, breaching the atmosphere before starting a long arc toward them.

  “What happened? Is Thena okay?” Sersi asked, a note of concern in her voice.

  “I’m not sure.”

  Makkari waved a hand to get Phastos’ attention, then gestured to the globe as she signed rapidly. He’s going too fast—he’s running.

  “Running?” Kingo felt a spike of worry. “Were they attacked?”

  “Deviants?” Druig looked over at him, sounding mildly surprised.

  Phastos shook his head and shot a long glance at Ajak before responding. “No Deviant signatures detected.”

  Because of course there weren’t—the last of the Deviants had been wiped out centuries ago. If anyone was attacking them, it’d be the Avengers. But how would they have found Thena and Gilgamesh? Karun looked like he was about to say something, but Kingo caught his eye and quieted him with a small shake of his head.

  “He wouldn’t run. There’s no way Ikaris would leave Thena and Gilgamesh,” Sprite insisted. “He wouldn’t just abandon—”

  “Something you want to share with the class?” Druig interrupted her. He was looking directly at Kingo.

  “Nope,” Kingo said, meeting his gaze evenly. “How about you?”

  Tension thrummed through the air as they fell silent, watching quietly, minute-by-minute, as Ikaris made his way toward them. A moment after he re-entered the atmosphere, Makkari straightened, a look of alarm on her face. He’s not slowing down! she signed rapidly, then turned and blurred out of the room, almost too fast to see. There was a brief instant where everyone froze, exchanging worried glances, before, moving as one, they followed her. Kingo broke into a run, leading the pack as they thundered through the green, stone-like corridors of the Domo.

  Kingo slowed as he exited the ship, rapidly scanning the early morning sky for any sign of Ikaris. The sun had barely crested the horizon, still mostly hidden behind the cliffs that edged the desert valley, but the sky was empty of clouds. With a clear view, he picked out the speck almost immediately, a sharp sliver of motion against the fading dawn—too fast for a bird, too erratic for a plane. He raised a hand. “There!” he shouted, glancing back at the others. Most had been right on his heels—even Karun, wheezing a little but determined not to be left behind—with Druig bringing up the rear, jogging unenthusiastically out behind the rest of them.

  “He’s coming in hot!” Phastos barked, his eyes wide and fixed on a small display hovering over his hand, tracking the golden dot as it plummeted, too fast, toward the ground.

  Kingo turned back to the visible speck as it tore across the sky toward them. A moment later, Ikaris hit the valley floor like a meteorite, slamming into the ground with a thunderous impact that sent up a plume of dust and shattered stone dozens of metres tall. The ground bucked beneath Kingo’s feet, a rolling shockwave slamming into him with enough force to stagger him sideways. Sand whipped across his face in stinging sheets, and the sudden silence that followed the impact was almost worse than the noise—dense, electric, waiting.

  Makkari blurred away into the dust, lunging ahead so quickly she almost completely vanished from Kingo’s sight. He staggered after her, waving a hand in front of his face to ward off the remains of the thin cloud of dust that still hung in the air. As he reached the edge of the crater, he froze, eyes locked on an unmoving form lying at the centre of the impact.

  Ikaris.

  Makkari was already standing over him, hands out like she wasn’t sure if she should touch him or not, wide-eyed with shock. While Kingo stood there, unable to force his legs to move, Sersi ran past him, sliding slightly on the slope of the crater as she went to her knees at her former lover’s side. Sprite was only a bare step behind her, and only because her legs were shorter than Sersi’s.

  “Ikaris!”

  On an intellectual level, Kingo knew that Ikaris wasn’t invincible. That he could be hurt, even if Kingo had never seen it actually happen before.

  …But this?

  Ikaris’s eyelids fluttered open at Sersi’s approach, eyes rolling back into his head briefly as he let out a pained groan, shifting his weight with a wince. He was shirtless, his pants shredded. Dirt muddied with blood covered his bare chest and arms, highlighting dozens of long gashes and stab wounds. His mouth and chin—everything below the nose—was stained with dried blood. One of his arms ended in a stump just below the elbow, where his hand had been cleanly separated from his body.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  “Ajak!” Sprite screamed, a ragged, hysterical edge to her voice. “Ajak, he needs you!” Her breath was coming in short gasps, eyes already filling with tears. “No, no, no, no…”

  “It’s okay,” Sersi said, though her voice sounded off-balance and unsure. She gently put her hand under Ikaris’s head, supporting its weight as his eyes focused on her. “We’ve got you. Just breathe. You’re safe now, Ikaris. You’re going to be okay.”

  Ajak moved past Kingo a moment later, moving quickly but carefully as she picked her footing through the broken earth. Kingo shook his head, snapping out of it, and took several steps after her as she dropped to her knees next to their badly wounded friend.

  “Heal him,” Sprite pleaded. The child-like Eternal was clutching Ikaris’s one remaining hand between both of hers, squeezing so tightly that her knuckles had gone white.

  Ajak’s hands were already glowing, patterns of rippling cosmic energy playing across her palms as she held them over Ikaris. His flesh visibly started to knit together, wounds closing rapidly as she traced the outline of his body. He winced again, but started to sit up as his strength came back to him.

  “Hey, easy. Easy!” Sersi tried to stop him, but he shrugged her hand off his shoulder.

  “It’s okay. I’m okay,” he said, taking a deep breath as he looked between her and Ajak. After a moment, he lifted the stump where his hand had been, offering it to the Prime Eternal.

  Ajak curled her hands above it, like she was feeling out the space where it used to be, as the glow of her power intensified. Threads of golden filigree spilled from the wound, forming structures that then solidified and changed into bone, muscle, fat and skin. That done, she started to pass her hands over the rest of his body, casting a critical eye over him as she did so, trying not to miss any of his injuries.

  “Thank you, Ajak,” he said quietly.

  “Well,” Druig remarked casually, his voice coming from behind Kingo. “I retract my earlier statement. I’m exceptionally glad that I didn’t miss this.”

  Sprite shot him a venomous look. “Shut the hell up, Druig.”

  Ikaris glanced at him briefly but ignored the barb. Instead, he looked back at Ajak. “It’s worse than we thought,” he said quietly. “Thena and Gilgamesh have betrayed us.”

  “Betrayed us?” Sersi asked, alarm evident in her tone. “What?”

  Kingo exchanged a pensive glance with Phastos, who was still standing at the edge of the crater, golden globe hovering over his palm.

  “Thena and Gil wouldn’t…” Sprite started, then trailed off at Ikaris’s expression.

  “Wanda Maximoff was there. We fought. Thena nearly killed me.” Ikaris said as Ajak lowered her hands. He rose slowly to his feet. Sersi, Ajak and Sprite stood as well, all of them looking at him.

  “Thena did this to you?” Kingo asked plaintively, feeling lost.

  A raw feeling of hurt was starting to bubble up inside of him. He’d expected that the truth would cause friction between them—especially when Druig found out—but this? Eternals trying to kill each other? It wasn’t right. He hated this. They were supposed to be family.

  “Maybe… maybe it was just the Mahd Wy’ry,” Sprite said. “She wouldn’t do something like that on purpose.”

  “It wasn’t Mahd Wy’ry. She knew what she was doing,” Ikaris responded. His face could have been carved from stone, his brow slightly furrowed as he spoke. “There was something else. An artifact of some kind; a source of cosmic energy. Thena used it against me.”

  “I think it might be an Infinity Stone,” Phastos said, almost absently. He was manipulating the globe over his hand, fingers twitching as he flicked through several different overlays. “Wanda Maximoff carries around something that emits a pretty distinctive signature. Pretty sure that’s it.”

  There was a beat of silence as everyone turned to look at him.

  After a moment, he realised they were staring. “What? I keep an eye on unusual energy readings,” he said, gesturing to the globe over his hand, which rotated obligingly to show a cluster of indicators in the US. “And they’re not in Australia anymore. They must have teleported or used a wormhole of some kind. They’ve moved to New York.”

  Sprite frowned. “Teleported?”

  “Who’s Wanda Maximoff?” Druig asked.

  “She’s a witch,” Ikaris responded grimly. “A powerful one. Maybe the strongest I’ve seen. She’s with the Avengers. Thena’s been training her.”

  “Training her…?” Sersi looked confused. “But—”

  “Wait, no, stop. This doesn’t make any sense!” Sprite interrupted with a furious shake of her head. “Why would Thena try to kill you? What do the Avengers have to do with anything?”

  Ikaris fell silent, hesitating to respond as he looked to Ajak for instruction. The rest of the Eternals followed suit, all turning to their leader. She sighed, then gestured toward the Domo. “Come. I’ll explain everything.”

  --

  The silence stretched long after Ajak stopped speaking. No one moved. No one breathed. Then—

  “This is insane.”

  Druig’s voice broke the stillness like a thunderclap.

  He took a step forward, eyes alight with fury. “You lied to us. For seven thousand years.”

  Ajak didn’t flinch. “Druig, I know you’re upset, but—”

  “Upset?” Druig’s voice cracked as he shouted, his voice echoing hollowly in the chamber. “I’ve just been told my entire existence is a lie. I’ve watched humans tear each other apart—burn, enslave, rape, murder each other—when I could have stopped it all in a heartbeat. And I didn’t. Because you said we couldn’t interfere.” His breath was coming hard and fast, his shoulders trembling. “Do you know what that does to someone after thousands of years?”

  “I do. Believe me, Druig, I know. But with what’s at stake—” Ajak began again, her voice gentle, but this time Sersi spoke over her.

  “What’s at stake?” she said, raw upset in her tone. “Seven and a half billion lives, Ajak. That’s what’s at stake. That’s why Thena and Gilgamesh—”

  It was Sprite’s turn to interrupt. “Why they what? Thena nearly killed Ikaris and it’s like you don’t even care!” she snapped.

  “Sprite, of course I care, I just… Maybe they were just trying to do what they thought was right.”

  “We’re supposed to be family,” Kingo said, a note of quiet anger in his tone. “You don’t turn against family, Sersi.”

  Ikaris nodded, looking at his former lover. His voice was hard. Unyielding. “What is right, Sersi? Standing in the way of trillions of future lives being born? I’m an Eternal—I exist for Arishem. As do they. As do you. This is part of His plan. Do you think it’s been easy, living with the truth? To carry that weight? To lie to all of you? If we gave humanity the choice—” he gestured wildly with a hand— “how many of them would volunteer to die so more could be born?”

  Sersi looked back at him, hurt. “So instead, we just make that choice for them? Kill them?”

  Sprite took a deep breath and stepped directly between them, turning to face Sersi to make it clear whose side she was on. “They’d die anyway. You know what humans are like. You’ve seen what they’re capable of. They can’t even stop blowing each other up over imaginary borders.” She shot a quick look in Phastos’ direction, but the technopath was staying studiously quiet, shoulders hunched, arms folded in front of himself defensively. “This planet, these people… they were never meant to survive.”

  Kingo took a deep breath, shaking his head at the child-like Eternal’s words. She’d lived with Sersi long enough that she should know better than to argue with her about the inherent value of human life. Even if he didn’t connect with humanity on the same level as Sersi did, Kingo still cared for them, too. He spared a quick glance over to Karun, who was standing near the far wall, shoulders hunched, a sadness in the man’s eyes that tugged at something in Kingo’s chest.

  “It’s not that humanity hasn’t been worthwhile. They had a good run. It’s just that we were sent here for something bigger,” Kingo said slowly. “The Celestial that will be born here… it’ll create new stars. Dozens of them. Hundreds. Thousands, maybe. It has to happen. It’s the life cycle of the universe.”

  “It’s barbaric,” Sersi retorted. She turned to Makkari, looking for someone to back her up, a pleading expression on her face.

  The other woman hesitated for a moment before signing with short, sharp movements. I’m sorry, Sersi. I never felt like part of this world like you did. I never wanted to be here. I only wanted to go home! She turned toward Ajak, visibly upset. I’ve been waiting for centuries to go back to Olympia! Now you tell me it doesn’t exist?

  “If Olympia isn’t real,” Sersi said quietly. “Then we never had a home to go back to. This is all we have. These people. Humanity.”

  “We have Arishem. The Celestials. Our purpose,” Ikaris responded.

  Great. Makkari took a deep breath, frustration evident in every flick of her hands. People I never cared for, or distant gods who hid the truth from us?

  “I’m sorry that we withheld the truth from you,” Ajak said softly. “But you would have felt worse, had you known from the start. The burden of knowledge is a heavy one—to see a people, live among them, knowing that all of it will be gone—even I have struggled sometimes. That’s why I confided in Ikaris, so he could lend me his strength. Beyond that, the secret of how Celestials are born is closely guarded. They are vulnerable while they develop and, as Kingo says, each is immeasurably precious to the universe.”

  Makkari’s shoulders slumped slightly. I don’t know. I just wanted to go home, she signed again.

  The group fell into a tense hush again. Then, after a few moments, Druig turned and started walking.

  “Where are you going?” Ikaris asked, low and sharp.

  “Somewhere else. Anywhere else. We’re done here.”

  Ikaris shot forward, interposing himself between Druig and the exit. The two of them stood rigid, neither backing down, the air between them taut like a drawn bowstring.

  “Here’s where you threaten me, then?”

  “We’ll decide what to do together,” Ikaris said evenly.

  Druig snorted. “No. I don’t give a shit what you do, but I’m leaving.” He tried to step past, but Ikaris didn’t let him, eyes shimmering golden for an instant in a raw threat. Druig’s hands tightened into fists at his sides, a flash of something dark and angry flicking across his face, but it wasn’t like there was anything he could do. Druig knew as well as anyone else here that he couldn’t move Ikaris if he didn’t want to be moved, or leave without Ikaris allowing it. Druig’s power wouldn’t work on Ikaris, and the vast gulf of physical difference would make any actual confrontation between the two of them brief and utterly one-sided.

  Instead, Druig’s expression tightened and he leaned in slightly. “Go on, then,” he said, his tone deadly quiet. “Do it.”

  “Enough,” Ajak said sharply.

  Ikaris didn’t move.

  “Stand down,” she said again, gentler this time. “Ikaris. Please.”

  Slowly, reluctantly, he exhaled through his nose and took a step back from Druig, still glaring at him.

  “Druig. Stay, please.”

  “What for? What’s the point? You clearly haven’t cared about anything I’ve had to say before now, why would this be any different?”

  Ajak looked at him, her forehead creased unhappily. “We can still talk this through.”

  “Talk it through?” Druig let out a sharp, derisive laugh. “Thena and Gilgamesh certainly didn’t think it was worth talking through.”

  “We should talk to them, though,” Sersi said suddenly. “It doesn’t feel right, them not being here for this. They’re a part of this, too. We should all be together.”

  “I agree,” Ajak said with a nod.

  “Yeah,” Kingo muttered, trying to still the uneasy flutter in his chest. “Fighting the Avengers is one thing. But Thena and Gilgamesh? They’re family. We need to work through this.”

  Phastos let out a bitter laugh and shook his head. “They’ve already chosen a side, here, and I doubt Avengers will be up for a heart-to-heart after Ikaris already killed Stark. Think they’ll wait nicely on the sidelines while we talk to Thena and Gil?”

  Ajak turned back to Druig. “That’s why we need you,” she said. “We need time. If you can keep the Avengers under control, we can prevent any further bloodshed while we take the time to talk things through with Thena and Gilgamesh.”

  Druig raised his eyebrows. “Have you even been listening to me? I don’t want any part in this.” An ugly, taunting smile suddenly spread across his face. “Hey, I have an idea! Why don’t I let humanity know about the Emergence, instead? No more lies, just get everything out in the open for all to see. That’d be freeing, wouldn’t it? No point in you fighting the Avengers then, right? Not if everyone knows what’s coming.”

  “You’d betray us, too?” Ikaris’s tone was flat. Dangerous.

  Even Sersi looked alarmed at that. “Druig.” Her tone was low and urgent. “You can’t—it’s too much.”

  “Sersi’s right,” Sprite chimed in. “You’d start a global panic, riots… everything.”

  Druig’s expression didn’t change. “And so what if I did? Maybe it’s the only real chance they’d get.”

  Ikaris set his jaw, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as though he were ready to lunge at the other Eternal. For a moment, the entire room held its breath.

  Kingo felt helpless. He’d never liked Druig, even if he’d never quite reached the same level of mutual loathing with the man as Ikaris had. He might have been an asshole… but he was still family. Yet there was nothing anyone here could do that would make any difference at all if Druig finally successfully managed to goad Ikaris into killing him.

  “Ikaris, don’t…” Sersi said, breaking the silence, a plaintive edge to her voice.

  Ikaris didn’t lash out. Instead, he turned to Ajak. “We should reset him.”

  Kingo blinked. “What?”

  Ikaris glanced in his direction briefly, his voice clinical. Cold. “It’s how Ajak was going to cure Thena’s Mahd Wy’ry. We can erase Druig’s memories of Earth. Set him back to baseline, when he actually listened to the Prime Eternal. Then we can end this situation with the Avengers without things spiralling any further out of control.”

  Makkari signed rapidly, looking horrified. You’re not serious?

  “Ikaris, that can’t be the answer,” Sersi said, raw shock in her tone.

  “He’s not going to be leaving, either way,” Ikaris said, glancing toward Sersi. “We can’t trust him. The minute we leave him alone, he could broadcast about the Emergence.”

  “…Ikaris is right,” Sprite said quietly, though there was a small quaver in her voice.

  Kingo hated to admit it, but Ikaris did have a point. While Druig was still here, Ikaris could stop him the moment he started using his powers. But if he left, there was always the possibility that he’d do something stupid, and it’d be too late for any of them to do anything about it. He could put the Emergence—the life of a Celestial—at further risk. Even knowing that, Kingo grimaced. “Still, though…”

  Ajak’s expression was a mixture of sadness and resignation. “Druig, please. You must listen. Stay with us, help us talk to Thena and Gilgamesh.”

  Makkari signed at Druig rapidly. We should just stay together for now. Please.

  “No,” Druig said with a firm shake of his head. “I haven’t cared about following your orders for the last five centuries, Ajak. I’m not going to start again now.”

  “You’re not leaving me with many choices, Druig,” Ajak said softly.

  Sersi looked distressed, glancing between Ajak and Druig. “You can’t really be considering this?”

  “It’s better than me killing him, isn’t it?” Ikaris asked her. “We should have done it five centuries ago.” He turned back to Druig as he said it.

  Druig didn’t say anything, but his eyes were burning now. Silent. Daring.

  “He… would still be Druig,” Ajak said slowly, reluctantly.

  Makkari turned to Ajak, eyes wide. Ajak, please. There has to be something else we can do.

  The Prime Eternal gave her a half-hearted smile. “I’ve seen all of you reset by Arishem hundreds of times before,” she reminded her. “Your spirit remains—it doesn’t change who you are. It’s not your memories that are important; they aren’t what make you you.”

  “But our memories shape who we are,” Sersi insisted. “Change us. Help us grow and become better.”

  “We don’t change, Sersi,” Ajak said softly. “We can’t. We are Eternal.”

  Makkari started to sign something again, but Ajak stepped in front of her—blocking Kingo’s view of her hands—and touched her gently on the shoulder. There was a moment of silence, then Ajak turned to look at Druig again. “Druig, I’m sorry. We need your help with this. Please reconsider,” she said. “I love you. But I am Earth’s Prime Eternal. If you won’t follow my orders, you don’t leave me any other choice.”

  “Why should I help you? You lied to us all, and now you’re talking about erasing my memories to get your way? Fuck you, Ajak.”

  Ikaris continued to glare at him. “You never cared how the humans felt about you manipulating their minds when they didn’t behave the way you wanted, did you?” he said. “How is this any different?”

  Druig let out an ugly, disbelieving laugh. “Oh, sure. If that’s the way it is… It’s not like I can stop you.” He shot Makkari a lingering look, then shrugged, spreading his arms wide in a challenging gesture. “Just do it, then. Get it over with.”