Seven days ago.

  “Please, forgive me, Mila. I promise I’ll never do it again.” Mauro’s words echoed, but Mila had a hard time hearing them. Her mind was fuzzy. For a moment, she forgot where she was. For a small moment, she was at peace.

  Until he spoke again.

  “What can I do to make it up to you? I promise I’ll do anything.” He pleaded as dread filled Mila’s heart. She grabbed the edges of the bathtub and slid back.

  He stood there, looking at her as if she were a cornered wild animal and he was a good man trying to rescue someone in dire need.

  Mila knew better.

  She knew he was the beast inside the small apartment. The blood on the bathtub’s edge said everything.

  He moved closer, and she slid back until she found the cold wall.

  He crouched, tears in his eyes. He always cried after he messed up. Mila preferred when messing up meant closing a door with too much force and not hitting her head against the furniture.

  But she guessed that was her life now—an eternal cycle of forgiveness but never being able to forget.

  “Tell me you forgive me.” He searched for her hands, holding them with a firm grip—one that demanded an answer.

  “I do,” she managed to mutter, and Mauro released a breath.

  “Thank you. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll go to the bakery and bring croissants, pistachio paste, and chocolate cake. What do you think?” He stood, walking to the door of the small apartment, collecting the keys. With one hand on the handle, he turned, a grin on his face, the tears already dried. “And then, maybe we can watch a movie? A romance one? The ones you love.”

  Then, he burst out of the apartment, making sure to lock the door on his way out.

  Mila released a breath. She wanted to cry, but she had no tears left.

  So, she got up, found the medical kit—one she wished she wouldn’t need to use again—and watched Mauro walking down the streets of Madrid. He’d take a good thirty minutes to come and go from the French bakery.

  She thought for the thousandth time that week that she should’ve never left Colombia to marry him. Her mother told her it was a mistake, but she wouldn’t listen.

  Mila grabbed her phone, which lay on the floor of their bathtub. When she unlocked the screen, the image of a Hollywood actor she’d forwarded to a few girlfriends, saying he was “muy hermoso,” was the reason he’d beaten her again.

  She closed the app and found the notification.

  Partial System Integration commencing in:

  0 hours, 5 minutes, and 10 seconds.

  Your world is on the brink of collapse. You may choose to fight for a future that may never come, but the path will be paved with blood and death.

  Will you rise as one of New Earth’s Forerunners?

  [Yes/No]

  She pressed yes and hoped that thing was actually real.

  She pressed yes and hoped she’d never see Mauro again.

  She pressed yes and prayed there weren’t worse people wherever she went.

  “Please, Zach. Please. Forgive me, I… I didn’t have a choice.” She was on her knees, her eyes facing the ground, but her gurgled voice told me she was crying. “He threatened me. He said he was going to kill me if I didn’t go along. I was so afraid, Zach. Before… before all this.”

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  She never finished the sentence. Her hands were now on the ground, and she was on all fours, her tears making her gag, her breath ragged.

  A song echoed through the forest.

  The Myriads were singing the song Tress always did when she needed to calm me down.

  Some hummed while others uttered incomprehensible words. The closest thing I could compare it to was the dwarves’ song in The Hobbit, and strangely, that sent a second shiver down my spine.

  Her breath eased, and she finally looked up. I was crouched in front of her—she hadn’t seen me coming.

  She was about to start crying again when our eyes met.

  I had nothing to forgive her for. I had seen him coercing her into doing what he demanded. I had seen the looks and could only imagine the words. But I knew she needed to be forgiven.

  I needed it, but I’d never get mine, so I extended the forgiveness I could give freely.

  “I forgive you,” I muttered, and she crashed against me in a tight embrace. Her tears flowed again, and I let her cry.

  All the blood on me, the werewolf’s head on the ground—none of it mattered in that moment.

  The song and her embrace made me feel human again after the stupor I’d been through.

  I’m sorry if this disappoints you, I told the gods inside my mind. I knew at least one of their faces was probably filled with disappointment.

  I hugged Mila in return, and when she stopped crying, I parted from her.

  “How did you survive? Did he hurt you?” I asked, cupping her face and wiping her tears.

  I had never taken a good look at Mila. Her skin was a pale brown, her eyes big and black, and her hair was very long—even in a ponytail, I could see it would reach her waist if she let it loose. She had some indigenous features to her face, like some people from Brazil or other South American countries normally had.

  She wasn’t in a dress anymore. She had found jeans, a white t-shirt, and an armor plate. She no longer looked like the vulnerable woman I had met before, but her eyes were those of someone who was broken.

  I had misjudged her. Maybe I could’ve helped her more. But there was no reason to dwell on it. She started speaking, and it all made sense.

  “I prayed,” she sighed. “I prayed every second after he tried to kill you. He told me you were a traitor, a turn-cloaker, a devil-lover, and worse things. He said he was going to do the same to me if I gave him a reason. So I prayed.”

  “And a deity listened?” I asked, and she nodded.

  “Yes. A merciful god. A god that chooses to remain hidden and helps people who need to disappear.” She laughed at that, as if remembering something. “She spoke inside my mind, and I disappeared. I watched in horror as he looked for me. I tried to find you for some time, but you started earning titles, and I knew you were alive and doing well. I felt so much shame and guilt.”

  “You don’t need to feel that. I found friends, and you did too.” I smiled, and she looked back, receiving smiles in return from the Myriads and humans behind us. They had stopped chanting.

  “It took me a while to exit this invisible state. Until I found a group that seemed trustworthy. We grew, but we’re good people. I can extend my boon to whoever I want, and we become completely invisible to any ability or the map.” She stumbled over her words, the sadness being replaced by a good measure of excitement.

  “And you were following us?” I raised an eyebrow, and she looked ashamed.

  “We weren’t at first. We were simply following the same path until your dots disappeared from the map. I didn’t know it was you… I thought four other participants had died. So we kept in the same direction until we found you laughing your asses off and drinking inside the safe zone.” She actually smiled at that.

  “That doesn’t sound so smart now,” I said, returning the gesture as she shook her head.

  “No, it was good. Some of my companions even shed a tear upon seeing your happiness. We felt… hope. But I wasn’t ready to stop and talk to you. I was going to—I knew I could help if things turned south.”

  “And they did way before you imagined,” I added.

  “Yes, and I’m sorry. But thankfully, no one died, and you saved my life.” She looked at the dead white werewolf and didn’t seem sorry for the creature or afraid of me. “Thank you.”

  “No problem. So, what’s your plan now?” I asked as we got up.

  “We can walk to the city stone together. We discussed this already, and that was before you saved my life.” She smiled.

  “You saved our asses too—we’re even. You don’t owe me anything.” My brow furrowed. No matter how vulnerable she looked, no matter that she’d saved my life, good liars were worth watching.

  “He’s going to the same city stone as us, Zach. I know it.” She looked deep into my eyes. “I won’t be the one beaten and cornered again, but I need you if I want a shot at revenge against that bastard.”

  There was more to it in her eyes—a burning determination I hadn’t seen yet. A hatred for the man that seemed deeper than just a few threats. But I knew it was genuine, because I felt the same.

  “So, what do you say?” Mila asked, one hand outstretched toward me.