Eris has left the realm. The Scavenger’s Daughter closes her eyes.

Both Eris and Jesus disappeared. The meat skewer in Jesus’s hand clattered to the top of the food cart. The gremlin, confused, tried to pick it up, but it turned to dust. He muttered something about over-spicing.

“Carl, Carl, I got a weird notification that said there was a god but then it disappeared before I can even read it,” Donut said as she landed right on Imani’s shoulder. “I didn’t get any special upgrades or anything. It happened too fast!”

“I saw it, too,” I said, clenching my hand tight. “The god is gone now.”

“Somebody probably got themselves killed,” Donut muttered.

My heart wouldn’t stop thrashing. At my shoulder, Quemada, oblivious to what had just happened, continued to talk about Emberus, giving me a pep talk about dying as a martyr. I quickly started jotting down everything I saw and heard, starting with the four sides to the coin.

Was this real? Things had just gone from bad to worse.

First, we had these goddamned races, where we had no agency whatsoever. We were on rails with no ability to alter our own fates unless we just killed everyone. And now this?

That goddamned goddess was just popping around causing . . . well, causing chaos. If I was understanding her correctly, one of the following four things would happen. Donut would die, I’d get my feet chopped off, “most” of my friends would die, or whatever the hell that last choice was. But because I’d grabbed the coin, I’d unlocked the fifth choice, which made everything random. But I didn’t know if that meant there was a 20% chance that nothing would happen or if the odds were much lower than that, assuming they broke up each possibility equally. Had I made things much worse by grabbing the coin?

And would killing Eris fix the problem? So now I had to kill both Emberus and Eris?

And what else had she said? She’d mentioned something alarming about Britney, but she’d also confirmed it was the pickaxe, which confirmed it was a Ysalte issue. And there was that thing about Florin and all that about the Pineapple Cabaret. What else? I furiously jotted it all down in my mental pad, heart hammering in my chest.

I realized the eye on my chest was still open, and I had to make a conscious effort to close it.

We were playing their game, doing their bidding. We had to alter the paradigm. We had to break the game. But how? Time was running out.

I had an idea, but it was so utterly ridiculous, so completely suicidal, that I immediately dismissed it.

Maybe these war mages had an answer to that problem. Maybe.

“Goodness, Carl, are you all right?” Donut asked.

“Your blood pressure is skyrocketing,” Imani said at the same time, also examining me. “Carl, something just happened, didn’t it? You can’t . . .” She paused, taking a step back, eyes suddenly wide. “Oh, snap,” she said.

“What? What?” I asked.

A tiny fairy appeared right in front of Imani, swirling in a sparkling circle around her head. This one was about the size of my fist, and it moved so fast, I couldn’t catch it with my eyes.

“Imani, why did you summon him now?” Donut asked.

“I didn’t,” she said drily. “I just received a notification that he is now permanently summoned and can no longer be used as a card.”

Elle came floating up. She eyed Quemada warily and then looked at the spinning, chattering fairy zipping around Imani’s head. “Why’d you let that little psycho out?”

“I didn’t,” Imani repeated. She looked at me and crossed her arms. “Carl did something.”

“Wait,” I said. “That’s your eighth-floor card? And it said it’s permanent now? I didn’t do that!”

The fairy zipped toward me and stopped, hovering right in front of my face, quickly jerking back and forth like a hummingbird. I had a moment to examine him. He was a tiny, ridiculously buff humanoid with flowing blond hair. His wings buzzed so fast, I couldn’t see them. He only wore a white loincloth.

He’d been permanently summoned due to the effect of my Scavenger’s Daughter patch.

Jacobus. The Reverse Tooth Fairy. Level 90.

This mob was formerly a Legendary card summon but is now permanently activated due to something Carl did.

Many cultures have a creepy tooth fairy tradition designed to acclimate children to the idea they may eventually have to sell their body parts for money. In Denmark, where Jacobus originates, the Tandfeen is very similar to other tooth fairy legends around the world. You lose a tooth, you put the tooth under your pillow, and at night, the tooth fairy comes and collects their prize, and in exchange, they leave a krone or two under the pillow, depending on how rich your parents are.

It’s a bizarre and weirdly sadistic ritual. But then again, it’s one that’s pretty tame compared to some of the other Scandinavian customs, like the one where you’re supposed to let your baby take their afternoon naps out in the cold like they’re Siberian huskies. Or this weird thing where Danes drown unmarried 25-year-olds in cinnamon.

Anyway, Jacobus here isn’t a tooth fairy. He’s a reverse tooth fairy. He doesn’t buy loose teeth from children. He does the opposite.

He had a deep, accented voice.

“Vis mig dine tænder.”

“Uh,” I said.

The little fairy nodded. “Betal mig trehundrede og tyve guld.”

“Jacobus,” Imani snapped, “no! We’re in a safe area anyway. You’ll get in trouble.”

The little fairy grumbled and then zipped to Imani and landed on her shoulder opposite of Donut, who raised her paw like she was going to swat him. The tiny fairy turned and saw Prepotente walking up, and started to fly away again, but Imani moved faster than I thought possible and caught him in her hand.

“No,” she repeated. “You will not be doing that with any of my friends.”

The fairy started cursing in Danish.

I knew this particular card was fast, had some really messed-up spells, and had been a terror on the battlefield during Faction Wars. The only problem was his summoning time had been particularly short. That apparently wasn’t the case anymore.

“Wait, I didn’t know cards could be turned real,” Donut said. She looked at me. She almost said something else, but she held it back. I was thinking the same thing about poor Paz, whose card we’d ripped at the end of the eighth floor. Instead, Donut said, “Do you think we can set Raul free forever?”

“I doubt it,” I said. “This was a god thing.”

“What is the holdup?” Prepotente said, looking at all of us. His gaze lingered on Olga. “A Grulke? Well-met!”

“This the one that says I’m a frog?”

“Yes! Hi, Prepotente!” Donut said.

“I’m waiting,” Imani said to me.

I eyed Quemada, and I moved to chat to explain everything that had just happened. I held up my hand, showing the swirl pattern.

After I was done, the chat exploded.

Elle: Fucking hell, Carl. Hanging out with you is as dangerous as hanging out with Samantha. Also, I don’t trust that mercenary you hired. You can’t trust fire fairies.

Imani: When have we even faced a fire fairy? That sounds like something Donut would say.

Donut: I DON’T LIKE FIRE FAIRIES, EITHER. I LIKE OLGA AND FINLEY A LOT. BUT THIS FIRE LADY REMINDS ME OF AN EXOTIC SHORTHAIR OWNER. AND YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS.

Elle: No, I don’t know what that means. But I kinda do, too.

Donut: EXACTLY.

Prepotente: Interesting. This is a similar conundrum to the Donut and Katia problem. I will think on it.

Louis: Britney hasn’t been acting any different. She’s just been grumpy. But she’s always grumpy.

Florin: Do you think this goddess was implying that she knew the full story with Lucia?

Carl: Look. We do need to sit down and come up with a plan to deal with all this. I already have a couple ideas I want to float, but you have to promise to hear me out. It’s not fully . . . it’s not fully baked yet. I can’t even say the last part in chat. But maybe the answer is right in front of us. Let’s talk to these war mages first.