There’s moments in life where you’re walking ahead so intent on your task that you forget to look down until you feel knee-deep in quicksand. I’m right there now. Surrounded by an unpredictable mob, looking up at a woman with the blood of Alia Snowsparrow running through her veins. My only defense a small circle of Sons of Ares and Golds. Holiday’s pulling a scorcher. Victra’s razor moves beneath her sleeve. I was too brash in storming in here. All this could go so wrong so quickly.

“Where is Mustang?” I call up to Sefi. “Did you kill her?”

“Kill her? No. The daughter of the Lion brought us from the Ice. But she stood in the way of justice, so she is in chains.” Then she’s safe.

“That’s what this is?” I call up. “Justice? Is that what was given to Ragnar’s friends who your mother hanged from the chains of the Spires?”

“This is the code of the Ice.”

“You’re not on the Ice, Sefi. You’re on my ship.”

“Is it yours?” This doesn’t sit well with the lowColors among the crowd. “We paid for it in our blood.”

“As did we all,” I say. “What about the Ice was good? You left that place because you knew it was wrong. You knew your ways were shaped by your masters. You said you’d follow me. Are you a liar now?”

“Are you? You promised my people they would be safe,” Sefi bellows down to me, pointing her axe, the weight of loss heavy upon her. “I have seen the works of these people. I have seen the war they make. The ships they sail. Words will not suffice. These Golds speak one language. And that is the language of blood. And so long as they live. So long as they speak, my people will not be safe. The power they have is too great.”

“Do you think this is what Ragnar wanted?”

“Yes.”

“Ragnar wanted you to be better than them. Than this. To be an example. But maybe the Golds are right. Maybe you are just killers. Savage dogs. Like they made you to be.”

“We will never be anything more until they are gone,” she says down to me, voice echoing around the hangar. “Why defend them?” She drags Cassius toward her. “Why weep over one who helped kill my brother?”

“Why do you think Ragnar gripped your hand instead of the sword when he died? He didn’t want you to make your life about vengeance. It’s a hollow end. He wanted more for you. He wanted a future.”

“I have seen the heavens, I have seen the hells, and I know now that our future is war,” Sefi says. “War until they fade in the night.” She drags Cassius toward her and lifts her knife to carve out his tongue But before she does, a pulseFist fires and knocks the weapon from her hands and Ares, lord of this rebellion, slams down on the walkway wearing his spiked helmet of war. The Obsidians recoil from him as he straightens, dusts off his shoulders and lets the helmet slither back into his armor.

“What is he doing?” Victra asks me.

“You dumb shits,” Sevro sneers. “You’re touching my property.” He stalks across the bridge toward Sefi. “Tsst. Get away.” Several Valkyrie bar his way. He stands nose to chest with them. “Move, you albino sack of pubic hair.”

The Obsidian moves only when Sefi tells her to. Sevro walks past the bound Golds tapping their heads playfully as he goes. “That one’s mine,” he says, pointing at Cassius. “Get your hands off him, lady.” She doesn’t move her knife. “He cut my father’s head off and put it in a box. And unless you want me to do the same to you, you’ll do me the courtesy of letting go my property.”

Sefi backs away but does not sheath her knife. “It is your blood debt. His life belongs to you.”

“Obviously.” He shoos her away. “Stand up, you little Pixie,” he barks at Cassius, kicking him with his boot and hauling him up by the cable around his neck. “Have some dignity. Stand up.” Cassius rises to his feet, awkwardly. Hands behind his back. Face swollen from the beatings. The slingBlade livid on his chest. “Did you kill my father?” Sevro flicks him on his broad chest. “Did you kill my father?”

Cassius looks down at him. No measure of humor to the man, just pride, not the vain sort I’ve seen in him over the years. War and life have drained that vigorous spirit from him. This is the face, the bearing of a man who wants nothing more than to die with a little dignity. “Yes,” he says loudly. “I did.”

“Glad we cleared that up. He’s a murderer,” Sevro shouts to the crowd. “And what do we do to murderers?”

The crowd roars for Cassius’s life. And Sevro, after making a show of cupping his ear, gives it to them. He shoves Cassius off the edge of the walkway. The Gold plummets till the cable around his neck snaps taut, arresting his fall. He gags. Feet kick. Face reddens. The crowd roars hungrily, chanting Ares’s name.

Mobs are soulless things that feed on fear and momentum and prejudice. They do not know the spirit in Cassius, the nobility of a man who would have given his life for his family, but was cursed to live while they all died. They see a monster. A seven-foot-tall former god now mostly naked, humbled, strangling on his own hubris.

I see a man trying his best in a world that doesn’t give a shit. It breaks my heart.

Yet I do not move, because I know I’m not witnessing the death of a friend as much as I’m seeing the rebirth of another. My company does not understand. Horror stains Kavax’s face. Victra’s too—even though she held little pity for Cassius all this time, I think she mourns the savagery she sees in Sevro. It’s an ugly thing for any man to bear. Holiday pulls her weapon, eying the Reds nearby who point to Kavax. But they’re missing the show.

I watch in awe of Sevro as he bounds up onto the railing, arms wide, embracing his army. Beneath, Cassius dangles and dies and the crowd beneath makes a game of seeing who can launch themselves high enough to pull his feet. None succeed.

“My name is Sevro au Barca,” my friend cries out. “I am Ares!” He thumps his chest. “I have killed forty-four Golds. Fifteen Obsidian. One hundred and thirteen Grays with my razor.” The crowd roars in approval, even the Obsidians. “Jove knows who else with ships, railguns, and pulseFists. With nukes, knives, sharp sticks…” He trails off dramatically.

They slam their feet.

He beats his chest again. “I am Ares! I am a murderer too!” He puts his hands on his hips. “And what do we do to murderers?”