I crawled out of the sea like some graceless water creature, unused to the air and hard sand.

In one fist I gripped Nemea’s sword. On the opposite arm, looped around it like an overlarge shackle, was his crown. I’d been delirious with pain and exhaustion, floating over the sea’s surface and through the remnants of the battle, slipping in and out of consciousness for the whole of the night. There had been no distinguishing between dream and reality, as bits of soldiers’ bodies bobbed on the water beside me. Ship flotsam mingled with the blood-laced foam.

It had been a strain to keep my power focused, as the spell I’d performed had reduced me to almost nothing. The taste of it still sat on my tongue, and an incessant hunger for more pulsed through me with each thump of my sore heart. My senses had been swallowed by the fierce pain in my middle, and yet I’d managed to force the sea to ferry me across its surface.

All the while, I’d clung to the sword and crown like the dented pieces of metal were what kept me afloat. They were imbued now, anointed with Nemea’s blood. When I touched them, I remembered that I had slain a monster.

I remembered that I could do it again.

My body scraped against the shore. Shaking, and on all fours, I paused at the edge of the waves and looked up at the dune.

The white sand rolled gently, creased by the wind, and I realized the sea had spat me out onto the very beach where Halla had performed her offering to Eusia. Where I had choked on the draught that had severed my bond from Theodore. I could make out the stairs that led to the flower garden, where the pain had brought me to my knees and blotted out my vision. The pale walls and turrets of Genevreer Palace loomed beyond in an endless, mocking sprawl.

I lay slowly onto my side and let out a sob at the flare of pain in my stomach. I could hardly stand, let alone reach the palace, traverse its halls.