Calan tried to rearrange his thoughts, to ask for clarification without looking like he was questioning the Monarch, but Reigan Shen waved a hand covered in jeweled rings.

“Malice crossed me,” he said simply. “She interfered with a message I meant to send, so now my Uncrowned will kill hers. This has nothing to do with Penance, so the heavens will not stop me. And if anything goes wrong…well, that’s why Red Faith is there. Not to mention the other sects.”

Calan felt like a worm while the fisherman explained why he was being placed on a hook. Whatever justification Shen had, Calan was going to be personally responsible for the death of a Monarch’s daughter.

“Please forgive one more question, but if you’re sending a Sage, why do you need us at all?”

“As I said, I don’t need you. I have chosen you because the parallels are pleasing to me.”

He supposed that was as much answer as he would get.

“And when you return,” Shen went on, “I will give you anything you desire.”

Calan’s breath stopped.

“Shoumei, you can have Anagi’s head on a plate. Calan, you grew up in my city of Rak Jagga. You can have it. The whole city. Brother Aekin, your master recently suffered a crippling injury? It’s healed.

“Do any of you fear reprisal from Malice? It is likely she will be dead before moonrise tonight, but even if she lives, you are mine now. I do not give up what is mine.”

Like the others, Calan Archer fell to one knee.

Sophara could feel her spirit unraveling piece by piece.

When she cycled, she could see the cracks in her madra channels shine brightly. They were still hair-thin, but they would widen with time.

They didn’t weaken her. If anything, the leaks made her stronger as she burned through more and more of her power.

While she wouldn’t last for long, her performance in this next fight would be extraordinary. Her battle was imminent. Not just her battle; her victory.

The King’s eyes glowed as he looked down on her. “When you win, we will make your body and spirit anew. You will become the next Monarch from my bloodline. There is no failure in you.”

Sophara’s breathing was even, her madra calm and her heart full of joy. The Totem inside her carried an echo of the same power that now stood in front of her.

“What do numbers mean to you?” Seshethkunaaz whispered. “What is strategy? You are the hunter. She is the prey. And now, the hunt is here.”

Sophara was ready.

Yerin and Ruby marched down the tunnels to the waiting room side-by-side.

“We’re hitched to the same wagon,” Yerin said. “Couldn’t say why you wanted to stab yourself in the back.”

“There’s a chance you wouldn’t have advanced with me around,” Ruby responded. “Couldn’t say why you blame me for leaving.”

“You’re the reason we can’t practice moving with the Bridge!”

“Didn’t need practice to use it myself, did I?”

Yerin still hated arguing with a copy of herself.

The Sages had consulted with Northstrider and confirmed that he would restore the Moonlight Bridge so Yerin could use it during the fight. Ruby claimed to have expected that all along, but she was a liar.

Charity had been forced to restrain Min Shuei so she didn’t beat Ruby to death for endangering all their chances, but Ruby hadn’t come anywhere close to apologizing.

And she wouldn’t give Yerin a hint of what had happened in the three days while she was gone, except saying that she was with Lindon.

Which drove Yerin to pulling out her own hair.

“Shape up,” the Winter Sage snapped as they approached the waiting room. “Time for you both to show what you can do.”

When they arrived in the waiting room, Charity sat them down. Since Ruby had returned the night before, they’d spent every moment catching her up to Yerin’s status as an Overlady.

Since Yerin could use the Blood Sage’s technique to send power straight to her Blood Shadow, it hadn’t been much of an issue, but that didn’t make Yerin any happier about having to do it. If Ruby had just stayed, she would have advanced the moment Yerin did.

There was nothing left to discuss, but Charity ran them through the plan again. She even placed her hands on their foreheads, soothing their anxiety.

Ruby claimed that Dross had given her his analysis of Sophara’s fighting style, but she’d been unable to teach Yerin, and their general strategy remained in place.

The Heart Sage lectured them, but Yerin had already honed herself to a sharp edge.

She’d done everything she could do.

The arena was sealed off again, and it looked so different that Yerin could imagine it was a separate world. Shining, burning waterfalls cascaded down from a ceiling that was out of view, crashing like pillars into pools in the ground. They lit the whole place brighter than noon.

Sharp blades drifted through the air, high overhead, like razor-winged birds. They made the place rich in sword aura, but they weren’t so close that Yerin could dice Sophara to pieces from the start.

This time, Yerin and Sophara walked out at the same time.

The dragon wore a sacred artist’s robe instead of her usual jewels and silk. Gold, of course, matching her shimmering hair and the thin tail that lashed behind her.

The scripted golden disc floated above her, and Quickriver—her liquid metal whip—was already in her hand.

She met Yerin’s gaze not with fury, as Yerin had expected, but with smug confidence.

Yerin felt her own feelings echoed in Ruby.

They both wanted to knock that look off Sophara’s face.

For the finals, even Northstrider had changed his normal appearance. He must have shaved at some point, because his scruffy beard was trimmed, his hair controlled. He wore black pants that looked as though they’d been made that morning, tied with a red cloth belt, and a spotless white shirt.

The clothes were largely ordinary, but they made a huge contrast to the Monarch’s usual appearance. The man wearing them hadn’t changed. He speared Yerin with a dragon’s glare.

“Renew,” he commanded, and Yerin could feel the Moonlight Bridge in her spirit glow bright again. Everything about her felt fresh-made, from her spirit to her mind, so it was like she’d just woken from a restful sleep.

Northstrider didn’t do anything for Sophara, but Yerin didn’t sense any problem with the dragon Overlady’s spirit. Either she was in top condition already, or her own Monarch had restored her.

Yerin’s perception pierced that space so easily that Yerin realized Northstrider hadn’t put up a barrier. There was nothing separating her from Sophara.

Not that they could just begin brawling with a Monarch between them anyway.

Yerin didn’t hear the Ninecloud Soul at all, and for the first time, Northstrider was the one reminding them of the rules.

“The finals are the first to three victories out of five. As before, you have half an hour in between each fight to develop your strategies.”

He looked to them both. “This is traditionally the first time I would reveal to you the nature of the grand prize, but this year few traditions were respected. The winner of the tournament will come before the collected Monarchs and be granted one request.”