Unfortunately, following the meal, came the wait. Henry had always despised waiting, especially for impending danger. While each of his fellow prisoners drifted off to sleep within the next ten minutes, he couldn't find rest. Despite how he had barely slept the previous night, his unrelenting doubts and worries kept him from finding any respite.

Henry couldn't gauge how much time had passed when he suddenly jerked up, perceiving movement beyond the pit. Before he could shout a warning, he already sensed gnawers lowering themselves into the pit.

The first one violently pulled him up by the arm. "Time to play!"

Henry caught a glimpse of his fellow questers, all in similar positions. He had heard that before. That same phrase he had—

"You shall not leave them here!" Upon Luxa's scream, Henry spun around, witnessing her break free and lunge toward the restrained Aurora. The other fliers remained unmoved, and a surge of fear overtook him as he glanced at the motionless Thanatos.

Yet the gnawers didn't care. They swiftly seized Luxa by the leg and forcefully tore her away from Aurora. Her piteous cries shook Henry to his core. Part of him yearned to join her as he was lifted out of the pit after her, his eye never once leaving Thanatos, yet no sound left his mouth.

It wasn't until he was unceremoniously dropped onto the white, dusty sand, with Gregor, Luxa, Howard, and Stellovet by his side, that Henry realized his escape plan was now useless. Even if they managed to obtain a weapon, the gnawers still had their fliers. Perhaps, he mused, if he could catch Longclaw at the point of his blade, he could trade his life against theirs. If only—

His head shot up, and he strained to focus his senses, to assess the situation. The five of them were on the ground, surrounded by two dozen gnawers that swarmed in from all directions, with more steadily arriving to occupy the bleachers.

"Ah, what a distinguished entourage has graced this humble establishment with their presence today. I am truly honored."

Startled by the familiar voice, Henry looked up and found Longclaw's imposing figure making his way to the center of the arena. To his surprise, a familiar golden crown had rather awkwardly been squeezed onto the large gnawer's ear.

"That one is a few sizes too small for your oversized head," he mumbled under his breath, and despite Longclaw's annoyed hiss, he almost broke into laughter.

"Now, now, Achilles." Longclaw seized him by the collar, dangling him in front of his face. "Have you since changed professions to court jester? I must say I liked you better when you were still my champion." He swayed him back and forth. "No mind; we require a lifting of spirits regardless. This is a celebration!"

Henry writhed in his grasp, but unfortunately, Longclaw had since learned not to expose the pit of his front paw when holding him.

"Do you know what day it is?" asked Longclaw. "A crucial one in the history of the once glorious yet nearly fallen kingdom of gnawers."

"Your coronation?"

"I suppose I should not be surprised that a day in prison did not dim your wits." Longclaw chuckled. "I hope, for your sake, that it has not diminished your fighting skills either. The Great Achilles must battle today; I cannot deny that a considerable number of them came for your sake." He glanced around the filling ranks. "But we shall keep the best for last. Why rush when we have so many excellent options?"

Longclaw dropped Henry into the sand and strolled toward his huddled-together party. "We may begin today's festivities by testing the acclaimed skill of the famed Overland warrior. They say he is undefeated!" Longclaw snickered at Gregor, who visibly shrank a few inches. "They say he escaped the Labyrinth unscathed. That he ended Fangor and Shed, armed with nothing but a torch!"

Henry stared at Gregor intensely, hoping with all his might that he would recall their plan. But the Overlander remained cowering on the floor, shaking miserably.

"Or how about this?" Longclaw took one step toward Luxa. "To celebrate the rise of a new gnawer king, we shall let the queen of the humans battle for her life!"

The already ear-splitting cheers intensified, and Henry's heart sank as he observed the quivering Luxa. In her dusty clothes and with her disheveled hair, held together only by the golden ribbon of her crown, she looked smaller than she had in a long time against the dreaded white sand.

"Yes, yes, I hear you!" Longclaw screamed against the crowd. "We shall not limit ourselves. They shall both fight!" Longclaw grinned ear to ear as he took in his audience, then glanced at Howard and Stellovet. "Fret not; perhaps we have time for you in between. Whoever you are," he said with a frown in Howard's direction. "Well, I shall not complain about getting more than I bargained for." He shrugged, then signaled a gnawer to bring their weapons.

Everyone except for Gregor was seized, yet as soon as Henry witnessed the sword drop into the white sand, something in his mind shifted. He had no plan, not even the slightest hint of one; all he saw was a weapon and a chance.

He rammed the sole of his boot into the carelessly swaying tail of the gnawer who held him. He shrieked in pain, and Henry lunged forward, dodging past all outstretched claws until he could seize the blade.

He whipped around, and the blade sliced the neck of the gnawer who had brought it. An outcry ran through the audience, but for Henry, time and space seemed to slow and blur, allowing him to focus only on the essential.

Opponent perched at the calculated distance, will leap at the determined trajectory and speed. Starting countdown, prompting evasive action and counterstrike before the calculated collision in 3 . . . 2 . . .

He let his eye fall shut and managed to strike with perfect precision in the way his echolocation had determined. He effortlessly evaded Longclaw's strike and whipped his blade through the air, but the moment it clashed with metal instead of the expected flesh, his focus shattered.

Henry screamed, nearly dropping his sword, and landed on all fours in the white sand. His head flew up, yet before he could scramble to his feet, he froze to solid ice . . . at the sight of a gently curved blade shimmering in gold. This blade . . . Henry stared at it for several seconds. A familiar blade, in the paw of . . . a familiar gnawer.

"And so we meet again." Her sleek, silvery fur stood in stark contrast to the glinting gold of the dagger she brandished, yet it was her voice, gentle and melodious as ever, that caused Henry's insides to writhe. "Please forgive my absence during your time as Longclaw's champion. We were concerned that our extensive history might detract from the overall enjoyment of the experience, both for you and the audience."

Quicker than anyone could seize him, Henry had leaped to his feet and raised his blade to slit her wretched throat then and there. Yet before he could lunge at her, another voice cut him off: "Take care now, Achilles."

Henry twisted away in the last moment, ramming the tip of his sword into the sand instead. Behind him stood Longclaw, holding his crooked talon against Thanatos' neck.

"Whoever dares to grasp a weapon loses a flier!" yelled Longclaw, and only then did Henry process that two other gnawers beside him held Aurora and Ares, still in their shackles.

Moments later, the sword slipped out of Henry's hand. It produced a dissonant clang as it hit the sand, and despite his writhing insides at this sound, Henry used it to take in their surroundings: the restrained fliers, the powerless questers, the converging gnawers on the bleachers. He hadn't seen Thanatos' eyes so devoid of hope in a long time, thought Henry as they locked gazes. But they couldn't give up now. They couldn't—

"Now, now, who would have ever thought—" said the sickeningly pleasant voice, and Henry whipped around so quickly that he almost stumbled over his own feet. "—that you would ever let yourself be stopped by the threat to another's life? Have you not once told me that you are not fit to be a hero?"

"I have. But you forget that more than one and a half years have passed since I said that." Henry's eye met the dagger she still held in her grasp. Suddenly, the face of Hamnet appeared before his inner eye: Care well of it, his voice said. And it shall care well for you. "That belongs to me."

"Oh, yes, yes." She laughed melodiously, twirling the dagger niftily. The same dagger that Henry had searched for so desperately at the bottom of that cliff. Instead, he had cut off the tooth that had later become Mys. Part of him wished to reclaim the relinquished sword and hack her filthy paw off so that she would no longer taint Hamnet's gift. "I could not believe my eyes when Longclaw brought it to me from Gorger's resting spot, the day he ventured there to claim his crown." Her slender claw tapped the blade. "You may trust that I took good care of it for you, Silverchild."

Henry snorted. "I am many things now, but I am no longer a Silverchild. For this, I actually have you to thank. You and your lies."

"Lies?" She laughed again. "Flatter me not. I cannot say that I am not intrigued that you introduced yourself to Longclaw as Achilles, of all names."

"Was he not the greatest warrior of all time?" said Henry, suddenly feeling his own apprehension at still being called Achilles fade. If he could reclaim a title such as "Prince of Rats", he could do the same for "Achilles". Kismet had begun calling him Achilles for his battle prowess . . . And if anything, he was more than ever powerful.

"Is that why you chose that name?" Tonguetwist raised a figurative eyebrow. Her gaze flickered back to the other questers. "They know not who you really are," she observed with a sickeningly pleasant smile. "They call you . . . The Death Rider. Yet another name you stole elsewhere."

"I did not steal," hissed Henry. "This is who I made myself into, and you can no longer strip me of all my identities and prides."

"Whatever you say," she said in a sing-song voice. "Yet you must forgive; it is difficult for me to see in you anything but what I always saw in you. Even in my head, you will always be my Silverchild."

"Only if you forgive that I care no longer about who I am to you." She laughed, but he heard a tinge of hysteria in her voice. "You have no power besides that of your tongue, and no one here is falling for it anymore. You have failed twice, and you shall fail again this time. Except this time, you shall not escape unscathed."

"I have failed?" Tonguetwist stared at him, slowly lowering the golden dagger. Then, for the first time, her eyes adopted an unparalleled chill. "You must not accuse me of failing . . . Not you. I gave you a unique opportunity—your one and only shot at outgrowing your place as the Silverchild—and you thank me by passing it up. You are the failure!" Her teeth flashed as she grimaced. "You dared to fail me, you miserable wretch, and so you took everything from me. I was once Gorger's most trusted confidant, his advisor. I was at the top!" she screeched. "And then you brought upon us Gorger's death. His, and those of so many others I loved. Only my dear Twirltongue remains!" she wailed. "You condemned me! To fleeing for my life and hiding for months in some damp cave before I at last found Longclaw. At last, a worthy successor!"

Henry had to clench his jaw in order not to spit in her face and yell that she had condemned herself. He couldn't afford to take risks with Thanatos' life on the line.

"You are a failure," spat Tonguetwist, brandishing the golden blade in front of his face, then she sat back on her haunches. "Oh, Silverchild, be not sad," said Tonguetwist pleasantly again. "At least after all this failure, I finally found a human worthy of the trust we all put in her. Poor, poor Dalia." Tonguetwist shook her head in false sympathy. "So lonely, so mistreated, so misunderstood. You must've all branded her a villain by now, no? But she is no villain—not like you. Everyone deserves to receive what they earn, yet sadly, not all get what they deserve."

"I am not a villain!" screamed Henry, against his better judgment. His fists clenched, lest he attack her with his bare hands.

"No?" Tonguetwist feigned surprise. "Is that what you delude yourself to think—that you learned anything since our last encounter? What is the matter? Have you actually thought that you could be a hero after all?" She slapped the dull side of the dagger against Henry's cheek. "Oh, Silverchild, I thought we agreed that you were not hero material. You are a condemner. Not only mine, either. Look at them." She waved toward the questers. "Look at everyone you have condemned, all because you tried to play hero. Now their deaths will weigh on your newly grown conscience."

Henry stared at her defiantly. Of course, it had only been a matter of time until she had sniffed out his latest insecurities. He thought he had become immune to her manipulation, yet . . . Henry bit down on his lip hard. He had condemned the questers today. Any deaths, any suffering as a result of this quest would weigh on his conscience. It was not mere manipulation . . . It was the truth.

Shortly thereafter, the taste of blood entered his mouth. Drips escaped his lips and hit the white sand. Red . . . on white. Henry heaved, unable to avert his gaze.

"You have not changed," said Tonguetwist. "You just think you have. But you will never cease being—"

"She lies!"

A sudden, high-pitched wail made his head snap up, and even Tonguetwist whipped around toward where two more gnawers had now joined Longclaw in grappling with the furiously struggling Thanatos.

"All lies!" his flier screamed and Henry blew out a strained breath, then unclenched his fists. Lies . . .

"Enough of this," Longclaw hissed and Henry let out a scream, when a gnawer grabbed him from behind and dragged him over to the others. "Tonguetwist, you're such a killjoy. We were planning to celebrate, weren't we?" He flashed a toothy grin. "Bring that warrior-boy here and lock the others away again. Save your scheming for later. There will be plenty of time."

For a second, Tonguetwist's gaze hardened, but she did not protest as they dragged Henry off.

"Hey!"

Longclaw, who had just handed Thanatos over to the other two gnawers, whipped around again.

"Can we not even watch?" Henry squirmed in the gnawer's grasp. He couldn't let them split their group up even further. The other fliers had already been taken out of sight, and without staying together, they couldn't formulate a plan. And without a plan, they were—

Longclaw paused, then he waved dismissively. "Fine, fine, let them watch. You are in luck that I am in a good mood today."

Relief washed over Henry as the rat holding him gestured for the others to drive the questers into the secluded area where he had always prepared for battle. Fifty times, he thought as he fell into the familiar sand, next to the others. His gaze followed the path leading to the wall and the lake, where Kismet's cave lay. If only he could somehow reach her, if only . . .

They watched Gregor be ushered into the center of the arena, then tossed a sword at his feet. Henry reached for Luxa, and without thinking, he wrapped an arm around her trembling shoulders. She did not push him away; she clung to his arm with an iron grip.

Even Kismet's help would be ineffective against such a massive number of gnawers. Their only viable option was to escape by air, yet their fliers were restrained somewhere out of sight—out of reach. Henry tightened his hold on Luxa, valiantly combating the pungent despair.

"She did—are you kidding?!" Henry winced at the piercing, sudden cry and saw Longclaw, more frantic than he had ever seen him, rush out onto the arena. "Halt!"

Gregor and the gnawer flanking him vaulted out of the way, and Longclaw came to a halt in front of Tonguetwist, who sat on the other side of the arena. After exchanging a few words with her, too quiet even for Henry, he released an exasperated groan. "Fine. We will deal with this now. Back to the pit! They all!"

The crowd's disappointment was palpable when they realized that the battle had been postponed. Groans and boos echoed through the arena, and Longclaw's ears nervously twitched. "Rest assured, we will resume in due time. But right now, our priority is to secure your enjoyment."

Henry frowned. What had happened? Yet before he could properly think, they were all ushered out of the arena—even Gregor, who had to relinquish the sword he had just picked up.

Henry winced in pain as he once again landed at the bottom of the prison pit. Something significant must have occurred—something grave—or else Longclaw would not have disrupted the festivity. Henry briefly wondered if there was any reason to feel hopeful, but as soon as he saw the sunken, dejected forms of Howard, Luxa, and Stellovet, and Gregor, who had curled into a trembling ball upon landing, his hope drained.

The temptation to sink to the ground and fall into his own oblivion was nearly overpowering, but . . . Henry dragged himself up to all fours. "Are you injured?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

Everyone shook their heads. But in their eyes, he saw that they were hurting anyway.

"At least I don't have to fight," said Gregor in a voice that betrayed that he was moments from breaking into tears.

Henry scooted over to the Overlander, and when he offered him his arm, Gregor allowed himself to be embraced, shaking so violently that his teeth rattled. Suddenly, Luxa was on his other side, and then Henry was holding them both, just as Howard held Stellovet. His back grazed Luxa, and then they both had an arm around her. This was a moment that might never come again, Henry thought as he rested his head on the cold stone behind him: Luxa's two eldest cousins, who had always detested each other, united by a shared desire to comfort her.

"Where is Aurora?" whispered Luxa into his fur collar. "Where is she? Where is she?" over and over.

Henry searched within himself for words of comfort and hope, yet there were none. There was nothing within him except crippling guilt and the conviction that he had failed—he had brought them all here. He had dragged them into this feud, and now he couldn't even be uplifting anymore. Not when he had no hope left to give. "Forgive me," he mumbled with his eye shut. "You shouldn't be here."

He should be here by himself, thought Henry. He should suffer the consequences of his negligence, not they. His eye flew open, instinctively searching for black fur. His ears peeked, holding out for a voice to tell him that he was wrong and to chase all the chaos and pain with logic, but it was deathly silent.

Was he alone yet again?

No . . . His hold on Gregor and Luxa tightened. He was not alone. But . . . he should be alone. Because he had yet again done something wrong. Had he not?

"Forgive me," he whispered. Over and over into the piercing silence. For what or whose forgiveness he was asking, he could not tell.

Forgive me . . . for involving you in this.

. . . for leaving Longclaw alive.

. . . for not having any words of comfort.

. . . for being weak. For being useless.

He was useless, thought Henry. After all this training, all this time, he was still useless. He could not save them. He could not save anyone. He . . . perhaps Tonguetwist was right, and he wasn't hero material after all. Perhaps he should have never tried.

He couldn't have known if he had been sitting there, holding the children, for minutes or hours when a sudden sound made Henry's head snap up. For a moment, he sat still to check whether he had been wrong. It was only when his unbelieving eye met three shadows darting over the pit and finally landing in their midst that he dared believe his senses.

Immediately, Luxa wriggled out of his grasp and fell forward with a joyous cry, wrapping her arms around the neck of . . . Aurora.

Both Gregor and Howard sat upright and barely managed to scoot to the side before the white face of Thanatos rammed into Henry's chest, knocking him into the wall so hard that he momentarily couldn't breathe. "Death . . ." Henry hugged his flier tightly, overcome by an all-powerful surge of joy that almost drove tears into his eye.

A silent minute must have passed before Howard's strained voice sounded from Henry's right: "How did you escape?" he asked the question most urgently burning in Henry's own mind.

Thanatos drew back a little and only then did Henry notice that he had also brought back to him Charos; the blade lay in the middle of the pit and Henry felt yet another surge of joy at its sight. "Quite simply," said Thanatos. "Although you may not believe me either way." Under everyone's eager gaze, he shook his head. "The one whom we must thank for our freedom is . . . Dalia."