The laughing God's Gambit

“Tell me you’re kidding.”

“No jokes about stealing from the gods,” a voice hissed in Ferris’s ear, crackling through the comm-crystal. “Move it, Fox! The moon’s almost down.”

Ferris’s fingers shimmered, half-phased into the chest of a marble goddess. The statue stared down, as if it was quietly judging him. His knuckles brushed something cold and smooth, a crystal buried deep inside. The Tear of the Moon. It hummed, sharp and electric, right up his arm. His teeth hurt just from touching it.

“Uh oh. I’m stuck.”

“You’re what?”

“My hand. It’s… gone through, but now it’s stuck. Magic’s thick here. Like pudding.”

A beat of silence. “Did you just compare a goddess’s heart to pudding?”

“It’s the feeling! I can’t get it out.” Sweat trickled down his spine. The vault stretched out, huge and silent, starlight pouring in through the glass ceiling. If he messed up, the Harmony Guardians would be on him. Or worse, the starlight would go solid and trap him for good. He’d read about it.

“Jiggle it.”

“I’m jiggling!”

“Try your other hand. Use something.”

“I don’t have anything! You said travel light!”

“I said travel light, not brainless! Ugh. Fine. When I say, yank like your life depends on it because it probably does. Three… two…”

The doors at the end of the hall crashed open.

Not gently. Not even close. They exploded inward splinters everywhere. A figure stood in the doorway, haloed by the vault lights. Armor, but not the fancy parade kind. Battle-worn, scraped up, no nonsense. And the sword she carried? Not metal. Sunlight, bottled and burning.

“Crap,” Ferris whispered.

The knight stepped into the light. Woman. Hard face, angry eyes. She fixed on his hand jammed in the goddess’s chest.

“Thief,” she said. Not a question. Just a fact.

“Tourist?” Ferris squeaked back, voice cracking.

“Lyria Stormcrown. Knight-Errant. You’re messing with a Shrine. Get your hand out. Now.”

“I’m trying!” He yanked, but his ghost hand wouldn’t budge. Red-handed, literally.

She raised her sun-sword. The vault hummed louder. “Last chance.”

Boom barked in his ear, “YANK!”

Ferris planted his foot and pulled with everything he had. At the same moment, Lyria lunged, fast despite all that armor.

His hand popped free. He clutched the Tear, a gem swirling with galaxies and moonlight. Light shot everywhere.

The alarm wasn’t a noise. It was pure panic like a wave of NO slamming through his mind.

Lyria staggered but kept coming. Her sword arced toward his arm.

Ferris did the dumbest thing he could think of. He didn’t drop the Tear. He threw himself straight at her.

They crashed together, armor smashing against leather. He grabbed her sword arm. His phased hand, still gripping the gem, slid right through her armor and pressed over her heart.

The sun-sword flickered.

They froze, nose to nose. He could see flecks of gold in her eyes, shock peeking out from all that fury. Her heartbeat thudded against his palm.

The alarm shrieked. The starlight started hardening into crystal.

“You…” she breathed, voice trembling with anger and something else disgust, maybe. Surprise.

“Sorry,” Ferris squeaked. “Habit?”

A new voice sliced through the chaos. “Well. This is more interesting than I expected.”

A man in grey robes appeared. The Spymaster. He looked like someone who’d been interrupted during paperwork unimpressed, annoyed.

Guards filed in behind him, weapons drawn.

Lyria made her move. She grabbed Ferris by the throat. “You’re under arrest, thief.”

The Spymaster just sighed. “Actually, Knight Stormcrown, you’re both under arrest. You’ve triggered a big problem. The sentence is… well, let’s just say it’s the end.”

He nodded, bored. “Take them to the Brink.”

The Brink wasn’t a dungeon. Dungeons had nasty straw and regret. The Brink had nothing.

It was just a round slab of black stone, dangling off the edge of the Spirelands. One side dropped straight into endless clouds. The other side had floating rock islands drifting past like lazy whales. No guardrail. The wind cut straight through.

Ferris and Lyria got dumped on the cold stone, mana-cuffs clamped on their wrists. Hers killed her sun magic. His made his hands feel like dead fish. The Guardians left through the only door a shimmery arch that vanished, leaving them alone with the wind and the drop.

Lyria shot up, tugging at her cuffs. “This has to be a mistake! I’m a knight! I was catching a crook!”

The Spymaster’s voice echoed from nowhere. “You were in the act. Broke into a sacred vault without permission. Doesn’t matter why. Magic’s out of balance. Sentence is… nothing.”

“You can’t be serious!” Ferris yelled, scrambling to his feet. The wind almost shoved him right off the edge. He crouched low. “It’s a rock! A glowing rock! We’ll put it back!”

“The Tear’s locked up safe. Your fate’s set. You’ve got until the sun hits the top of the Sky-Spire.” The Spymaster’s voice faded. “Do something with the time. Or don’t. I still get paid.”

Silence. Just the wind, sharp and hungry.

Lyria turned that icy glare on Ferris. “You. This is your fault.”

“My fault? You’re the one who barged into a historic site!”

“I was chasing a thief!”

“I was having a bad night!” Ferris shot back, fear tipping into anger. “I owe dragon money! You think I wanted to rob a statue? You k

now what dragon indigestion looks like? I do! I’ve seen it!”

She blinked, completely thrown.

A dragon?