William’s breath came in sharp gasps, the phantom heat of Mars still searing his skin. Auracea, the once-mighty guardian of Earth, trembled beside him, her golden eyes wide with shock.

  Then Zephar sighed, utterly unfazed.

  “And that,” he said, with the air of a man discussing the weather, “is only the first of your problems.”

  William sucked in a breath, his body tense as if it had been through the battle itself. Auracea, the once-mighty guardian of Earth, whimpered beside him, her colossal form trembling with the aftershocks of the vision they had just experienced. They hadn’t simply seen the events of Mars—they had lived them, felt every molten tremor, every csh of titans.

  “What... was that? How were we able to see all of that, even before they shifted to our universe?” William managed, his throat dry.

  Auracea’s golden eyes, wide with disbelief, darted between him and Zephar. The god of humans, trickster of fate, simply shrugged, completely unconcerned.

  “Child’s py! I could show you more of their past, but they don’t care about that! This is my universe after all. I can see everything happening and that has happened, and boy, oh boy!” He whistled, his grin widening. “It is getting crowded.”

  William and Auracea stared at him in a rare moment of shared silence.

  Zephar stretched his arms behind his head zily. “Oh, don’t give me that look. You act like this is crazy after living through pizza tornados! I did drop the Infinity Dice, after all. Any possibility is on the table, but never the same twice!”

  Auracea’s sorrow twisted into fury. In an instant, she lunged, her massive cwed hand tearing through the air toward Zephar’s smirking face.

  It passed right through him like mist.

  Zephar waggled his eyebrows. “Tsk, tsk. Violence isn’t the answer.”

  Auracea recoiled, her frustration mounting. “You fool! You’re the cause of this! Your wretched dice have doomed us all!”

  Zephar yawned, unbothered. “Eh. That depends on your perspective. Sure, you got a bad roll, but hey, who’s to say the next one won’t be better? Think about fire boy! At least one human survived, and you get sentience to air out all your grievances!” He pivoted on his heel and gestured far into the distance. “But I suppose that anger could be useful… considering what’s coming.”

  Both Auracea and William followed his gaze—and their blood ran cold. The two had forgot about the six meteors that had just crashed since they had just watched the Ashborn arrive on Mars, but that was a week ago.

  From the impact craters beyond the ruined city, dark figures rose in droves. Thousands of Ashborn warriors poured forth, their molten bodies cracking with heat, their war machines waking from slumber. They had arrived.

  Zephar dusted off his robes. “So, yeah. We need to fix this.”

  William’s jaw clenched. “We?”

  “Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m not going to do anything.” Zephar ughed. “That’s your job. Well… her job. If she does the right thing.”

  Auracea’s gre could have melted steel. “And what thing is that?”

  Zephar spun around dramatically, stopping only when he was inches from her massive face. “You have to accept him,” he said, voice sing-song, gesturing toward William like a game show host.

  The air grew thick with tension. Auracea recoiled, her features twisting in disgust.

  “Absolutely not.”

  William snorted, crossing his arms. “She’s right. I’m the st person she should choose.”

  Zephar rolled his eyes. “Ugh, you mortals. So stubborn. This is why you die early.” He rubbed his temples before pointing at Auracea. “Okay, look. You need to give him your Sigil, so he can form a Core and actually stand a chance against Mars’ new overlords, or their armies.”

  “No,” Auracea snapped.

  Zephar spun to William. “And you, stop moping and take the power.”

  William’s gre was ice. “Not happening.”

  Zephar groaned. “Oh, for the love of—Do you two hear yourselves? The world is literally ending, and you’re both too proud to do anything about it?”

  William scoffed. “It’s not about pride.”

  “Oh?” Zephar arched a brow.

  Auracea smmed her fist down, cracking the frozen peak. “I will not let my power be wielded by a human who does not care for this pnet! He has no love for it—no devotion! He would leave it to burn!”

  William didn’t deny it.

  Zephar’s gaze sharpened. “Ohhh. That’s what this is about.” He smirked. “You’re still shackled to your blessing of immotion, aren’t you?”

  William didn’t respond.

  Zephar cpped his hands. “Ah! I get it now! You don’t want to save Earth. You’d rather let it crumble and just… wait out the end, right?”

  William turned away.

  Auracea’s anger boiled over. “Coward.”

  With a powerful roar of anger that shook the volcano they were on top of, she turned and dove back below the surface in the direction of the Ashborn army, molten cracks forming on the frozen surface to mark her path. She would fight them alone.

  Zephar sighed, watching her go. “There she goes. Straight into the jaws of death. Are you really okay with this?”

  William said nothing. His gaze was hollow, his body sagging under the weight of his own thoughts.

  Zephar frowned. For all his theatrics, for all his carefree madness, there was something in his gaze now—something rare. Concern.

  He sat beside William on the broken ground. “You know… I never wanted things to turn out this way.”

  William scoffed. “You dropped the dice. You did this.”

  “Eh, yes and no.” Zephar waggled his hand. “The dice? They just bring possibility to the table, a tool forcibly given to me when I took control of this universe to help spring life and take control of all the stars. I don’t care about taking control, but now my rolls have made a slight concern. War is coming on a scale hard to fathom, but hiding from this will not end well for either you or Auracea. You two are the st of my creations, and I really don’t want things to end so early.”

  William stayed silent.

  Zephar leaned back. “You think the dice only ever ruin things, don’t you?”

  William said nothing.

  “Well, you’re not wrong.” Zephar snickered. “I mean, some of my rolls have been awful. Lately, that is all they have been, even There was this one time I rolled a triple-zero? Oof. Killed an entire civilization overnight. Not my best work.”

  William sighed, rubbing his temples. “This is supposed to make me feel better?”

  Zephar ughed. “Oh, no. I just like telling stories.” He paused, then added, “But the dice have done good before.”

  William gnced at him.

  Zephar grinned. “Ever heard of the Renaissance? Yeah, that was a critical success. The Industrial Revolution? Oh man, I had no idea humans could do so much with steam.” He nudged William’s shoulder. “The dice don’t just destroy, Will. Sometimes, they create.”

  William clenched his jaw, looking down at his hands. “…And what good is my ability to be an undying furnace?”

  Zephar exhaled, looking up at the darkening sky. “In a world that has lost its light and all forms of hope, you are the only thing of this once great pce.”

  “And if I refuse?” William finally muttered.

  Zephar smirked, though this time it cked its usual mischief. “Then you won’t be the only one left to burn.”

  Wilm didn’t look back, but the master of chaos studied him, his usual humor subdued. He had no idea if William would rise or crumble under the weight of what was coming. But for now, all he could do was wait.

  Zephar sat back, staring up at the orange tinged star strewn sky. This wasn’t how he wanted things to go.

  Then again, fate rarely listened to gods either.

  And if the dice had their way… things were about to get much, much worse.