Lancelot looked up at the giant stone palm cradling a cat, and his knees actually shook. This was preposterous. This was a total break in the natural order of the world.

  "What is the meaning of this abominable spectacle!?" Lancelot shrieked, his voice cracking like a cheap flute.

  "How does a lowly feline---a mere sacrifice meant for the bowels of the earth---command the presence of a primeval deity!?"

  He was literally trembling. He couldn't wrap his head around how a Manul was sitting there like he owned the place.

  Lemony looked down at him with those cold, yellow eyes.

  "I'm not a sacrifice anymore," Lemony said.

  "But you? You're looking like a pretty good snack for a god."

  "Are you insane!?" Lancelot roared. He was so mad he forgot to use his fancy words.

  "You think you can just show up with a monster and act like you've won? I am a Commander of the Veridian Kingdom! You are nothing!"

  Malphas shifted his weight, and the mountain ridge literally groaned under his feet. The giant opened his vertical mouth and let out a series of ancient, melodic sounds.

  Pippin leaned over the edge of Malphas' thumb, listening intently. "He... uh... he's asking if he should just squash the shiny guy now. He says the commander's soul smells like sour milk."

  "No," Lemony said. "Not yet."

  Pippin yelled the ancient words back to the giant. Malphas seemed disappointed, but he released a pulse of Fear Aura that was so concentrated it turned the air grey.

  Lancelot screamed, clutching his head as his brain was flooded with pure, biological terror. He fell to his knees, his majestic blonde hair dragging in the dirt. He was a complete mess. So, he reached for his ear piece, his fingers fumbling with the metal.

  "Avamel! Avamel, are you seeing this!?" he hissed into the comms.

  "This cat... he's a monster. He's controlling the Malphas!"

  A smooth, feminine voice crackled back in his ear.

  "I see it, Lancelot. It's quite the conundrum. The High Generals are currently in session. I think they would find this very interesting."

  Lancelot's eyes went wide.

  "No! Don't you dare! My reputation... you cannot show them me like this!"

  "You aren't very useful to us anymore, Lancelot," Avamel said coldly.

  "Goodbye."

  Suddenly, a signal broadcasted from the barrier of this mountain that separated it to the word, beaming the live image of the snowy battlefield straight to the capital.

  In the heart of the Veridian Kingdom, the Great Hall was silent. At the head of the massive table sat King Valerius, a Lion-kin with a mane of deep crimson and eyes that looked like burning coals. He was currently discussing a border dispute in the south, his voice deep and gravelly.

  "The southern tribes are becoming a nuisance. We need to—"

  He stopped mid-sentence. In the middle of the room stood two Aura-Weavers. This species was strange; they had evolved a new biological system where their heads could split slightly to project light and sound from their own nervous systems. They were living, breathing projectors.

  Their heads tilted to the side, and a massive image flickered to life in the air above the table.

  The King and the five Generals stared at the projection. They saw the Peak of the First Rib. They saw a broken, crying Lancelot on his knees. And then, they saw the mountain-sized Malphas holding three small creatures in his hand like they were precious cargo.

  The King stood up, his claws digging into the stone table. He wasn't even looking at the giant. He was looking at the cat in the red coat.

  "A sacrifice," Valerius whispered, his voice full of a weird kind of dread.

  "A mere Manul is riding the beast of the depths?"

  In the high chamber of the Veridian Kingdom, the projection flickered with the cold blue light of the mountain snow.

  General Kaellian, a Hawk-kin with eyes that could see a mouse from a mile away, leaned so far forward he almost fell off his stone chair.

  "Is that the Centauris boy? On his knees? He looks like a pathetic foal in the mud. How deplorable," he spat, his feathers ruffling in sheer disgust.

  Next to him, General Varkas, a massive Rhino-kin whose skin was scarred from a hundred wars, let out a low, rumbling laugh.

  "Forget the boy. Look at the beast. That's Malphas. My ancestors lost an entire legion trying to bait that thing into a pit. And now it's acting like a slave for a house cat?"

  On the screen, Lemony stepped to the edge of Malphas' massive palm. He looked right into the "eye" of the broadcast, his gaze piercing through the projection and into the throne room itself.

  "Tell me, Commander... why do you keep doing it? Why send thousands of us into this hole every year? What's the point of the sacrifices?"

  Lancelot sobbed, his blonde hair a matted mess of blood and slush.

  "It's for the stability of the realm! The chosen must suffer so the kingdom can thrive! It is a divine necessity!"

  Lemony didn't laugh. He just looked bored.

  "Stability? No. You don't send us here because the kingdom needs it. You send us here because you're scared of your own trash. You think if you throw your problems into a deep enough hole, they'll stop being your problems. But look around, Lancelot. The hole is full. And now the trash is climbing back out."

  King Valerius narrowed his eyes.

  The cat isn't just talking about survival, he thought. He's talking about an overflow. He understands the mechanics of our society better than the Council does.

  "He's dangerous," General Kaelen muttered, his sharp eyes locked on Lemony.

  Back at the Peak, Lemony looked at Pippin.

  "Tell him to pick up Sissy. Gently."

  Pippin nodded and shouted the ancient, melodic commands of Aethelgard. The mountain-sized Malphas obeyed instantly, his movements surprisingly smooth for something made of stone. He reached down and scooped Sissy up from the snow. She gasped as she was lifted hundreds of feet into the air, finally being set down on Malphas' other palm next to Lemony.

  She stumbled, her legs still weak from the fight, but Lemony caught her. He patted her head---a small, rare gesture of kindness---and helped her stand.

  "Lemony... you actually came back," she whispered, her wings trembling.

  "You saved me again."

  "Don't get used to it," Lemony muttered, though he didn't let go of her arm until she was steady.

  "What do we do now?" Sissy asked, looking down at the ruined base and the crying Commander below.

  Lemony looked at Pippin.

  "Tell Malphas to end it. The Commander has seen enough."

  Lancelot's eyes went wide. He looked up at the giant foot descending toward him and began to scream. "No! Wait! I have money! My family... the Centauris name! I'll give you anything! Please, I don't want to die in the dirt!"

  In the Veridian throne room, the Generals laughed.

  "Listen to him beg," Varkas chuckled.

  "The heir to the most 'majestic' family in the north, crying weakly. What a farce."

  "Silence," King Valerius commanded. His voice was like a heavy weight dropping in the room.

  "Stop looking at the coward. Look at the cat. He isn't even flinching."

  The King was right. As Malphas raised his foot to crush the life out of the Veridian Commander, Lemony didn't look away. He didn't look happy, and he didn't look sad. He just looked like a man finishing a chore.

  The broadcast flickered as the giant's foot came down.

  Lemony had a perspective that the high and mighty in the capital could never grasp. He understood this society better than anyone because he had been beneath its boot since he was a cub. Most people who lived like him probably understood the same harsh truths, but they never got a chance to do anything about it. They just died in the dark.

  Lemony, however, was done being limited.

  The giant foot of Malphas came down with a sound like a mountain splitting in half. The snow exploded into a red mist. Lancelot, the majestic heir of the Centauris family, was gone. There was no more arrogance, no more complex words, just a crushed mess of silver armor and meat pressed into the permafrost.

  The generals in the throne room laughed. They found the irony delicious. But their laughter died in their throats as the projection shifted.

  Lemony wasn't on Malphas' hand anymore.

  He had climbed.

  He was standing right on the crown of the ancient beast's head. With Sissy and Pippin flanking him, he looked like a king standing on a moving throne of stone.

  The remaining Leftovers down in the base looked up. They were bleeding and cold, but they stared at the cat in awe.

  And the King of Veridian felt a cold frisson of dread crawl up his spine.

  "THIS IS MY REVELATION!"

  Lemony looked right into the eyes of the kings and generals watching from the capital.

  "I have been trash my entire life."

  "I was a piece of garbage thrown away by a kingdom that didn't want to see its own failures. I was a trash that lived in the dirt and learned how to survive on your scraps."

  He took a step forward, his red coat snapping in the wind.

  "I am a trash that saw my friends die for nothing! I am a trash that was told I had no value, no purpose, and no future! But today, the trash is looking back at you!"

  The Great Hall was so quiet you could hear the King's heavy breathing. King Valerius clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white.

  This isn't just a rebellion, the King thought. This is a purge he's making! He's inciting the very foundation of my world to crumble.

  "Today..."

  "I WILL KILL A GOD!"

  Sissy looked at him from her spot on the giant's head.

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  This cat... he really is my savior, she thought. He's going to do the impossible just to prove he can.

  Lemony turned to Pippin.

  "Tell him. It's time."

  Pippin's bottom lip trembled, but he spoke the ancient words. Malphas let out a long, rumbling sound. It wasn't a roar of anger. It was a sigh of relief. Through Pippin, the beast spoke one last time.

  "Before I leave this cage," Pippin translated, his voice small, "Malphas says... there are more. Ancient creatures like him, sealed away and used as tools or batteries. He says they are not monsters by choice. They are just trapped. He wants you to fix it. He wants you to break the chains of every ancient beast in this world."

  Lemony smiled. It was a small, sad smile. He reached out and patted the rough stone of the giant's head.

  "I promise. I'll break them all."

  Malphas let out a final, melodic hum. He reached down into the snow and unearthed a massive, rusted chain that had been buried for a millennium. It was the very shackle the ancestors had used to bind him to this mountain.

  With a slow, deliberate motion, the giant wrapped the cold iron around his own throat. He was choosing his end.

  He was giving Lemony the kill he needed to show the world that even a "trash" cat could end a deity.

  In the Veridian capital, the King stood up, his chair clattering to the floor.

  "He's actually doing it... he's actually killing a god."

  Malphas moved with a purpose that felt like a slow-motion earthquake. He grabbed the rusted, mile-long chain and looped one end around a massive, jagged rib-bone that jutted from the mountain like a skyscraper.

  He threw the other end over the opposite peak, anchoring himself to the world he was about to leave.

  He reached down and gently placed Lemony, Sissy, and Pippin on the snow. As Lemony's paws hit the ground, the giant leaned his massive head close.

  "Lemony," the beast rumbled.

  Lemony froze. The voice didn't sound like the ancient, melodic music from before. It was rough, low, and it was in Lemony's own tongue. The cat's ears flicked back in pure shock.

  "When the light leaves me, take my DNA. Do not let the essence of a god go to waste in the dirt."

  Before Lemony could even ask how the giant knew his language, Malphas pulled away.

  In the throne room, the projection was so clear you could see the sweat on the Generals' faces. One of them, a lean Serpent-kin with shimmering scales, turned to the King and looked at the maids and butlers shocked at the broadcast.

  "My Liege, should we terminate the broadcast? If these were slaves see a deity fall to a peasant's whim, the foundations of our authority will crumble."

  King Valerius didn't look away. His eyes were wide, reflecting the yellow light of the projection.

  "No. Let it play. I want to see how a god chooses to exit. After this, you have to eliminate every slave in this city."

  Malphas looked up at the sky. For thousands of years, he had watched those birds. He had tried to starve himself, tried to crush his own skull against the cave walls, but his divine physiology always healed him. He was a prisoner of his own immortality.

  But Lemony had given him an idea... a simple, brutal plan to end the loop.

  The giant began to run.

  The ground screamed under his weight. He hit the edge of the cliff and leaped. He didn't scream. He didn't roar.

  As he plummeted into the abyss, the only thing he felt was a wild, terrifying ebullience. He was finally going to feel something other than boredom.

  He hit the bottom of the gorge with a sound that probably broke windows in the nearest city. But he wasn't dead yet.

  Waiting for him at the bottom was a spire of obsidian, a massive and pointy rock that Lemony had pointed out from the heights. Malphas shifted his body in mid-air, guiding his massive weight. The spire pierced his skin with a wet, grinding crunch.

  It wasn't enough.

  The rock had missed the vitals.

  Malphas gritted his teeth, his stone-like muscles bulging as he grabbed the sides of the spire. He pushed himself down. He ignored the white-hot agony screaming through his nerves.

  He pushed more, and then more, the obsidian digging deeper into his chest.

  CRACK.

  The spire finally punctured his heart.

  A fountain of thick, black blood poured out, steaming in the freezing air. Malphas felt the coldness of the snow finally starting to feel warm. His vision blurred, the sight of the circling birds being the last thing he saw. He let out one final, quiet breath.

  The ancient beast was dead.

  Lemony stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down into the dark. He didn't say anything. He just felt the heavy weight of a promise he now had to keep.

  The moment the god's heart stopped, the world itself seemed to crack. The invisible walls---the borders that had turned this mountain into a inescapable prison for centuries---shattered like glass. In the King's throne room, the projectors hissed and went dark. The signal was gone because the magic holding the mountain was gone.

  Up on the Peak, the biting, supernatural wind just... died. It wasn't a death trap anymore.

  It was just a big, quiet pile of rock.

  Lemony reached out and acted like he touched the stone-like skin. When he pulled his hand away and opened his palm, a single, writhing black strand was floating there. It looked like liquid shadow.

  So this is it, Lemony thought. The legacy of a god. It feels heavy, even if it doesn't weigh anything.

  Suddenly, something poked his leg. He looked down, expecting a rock, but saw a tiny, mossy pebble with eyes.

  "Fiji?" Lemony asked, picking up the miniature creature.

  "Fiji... small," the Mossback squeaked. He sounded like a child who had swallowed a flute.

  "Blonde man poke Fiji hard. Fiji go pop. Now Fiji tiny. Don't know why."

  Lemony actually let out a short, dry laugh. It was the first time he'd felt a spark of mirth in years.

  "As long as you're breathing, buddy. That's all that matters."

  Fiji wiggled in his hand and pointed toward a hidden crevice near the base of a rib-bone.

  "Fiji know way. Secret way. Under-path. Go out. Never come back."

  Lemony walked back to the group. The remaining Leftovers didn't say a word at first. Then, they surged forward. The children hugged his legs, crying. Koro put a massive hand on his shoulder, his eyes wet. Even the old man, Crysorgo, was shaking.

  "You did it, kid," Koro rasped.

  "You actually got us out."

  "Don't thank me yet," Lemony said, though he didn't pull away from the kids.

  "Fiji knows a path. Let's move while the Kingdom is still in shock."

  The trek was brutal.

  Koro carried the unconscious Gunslinger like a sack of grain. Ve had Pippin hitched to his back, and Crysorgo walked side-by-side with Sissy, letting her lean on him.

  They entered a cave that even the oldest Scavengers hadn't found. It was Fiji's private tunnel.

  After hours of walking, they reached a wide cavern filled with soft moss. Ve stretched his arms until his joints popped.

  "Is this it? Are we out?" Ve asked, his tail wagging hopefully.

  "No," Fiji squeaked.

  "Are you kidding me!? I've been walking for an eternity!"

  Crysorgo just smiled, his face looking younger in the dim light.

  "Easy, wolf. I've been in that hole for a hundred years. A few more hours is nothing. I'm just happy to be walking toward something that isn't a grave."

  Lemony watched them.

  How can they still have this much hope? he wondered. They've been treated like trash, and they're still ready to smile at a cave wall.

  They kept moving for seven more hours. Eventually, the air changed. It stopped smelling like wet stone and started smelling like... green. They walked into a dense, underground forest where the trees were fed by hidden springs.

  Fiji pointed at some glowing fruit.

  "Food. Fiji pick here when hungry."

  "How did you all even survive up there?" Lemony asked, stuffing a handful of berries into his mouth.

  "We had growers," Crysorgo explained.

  "A creature died years ago with a pouch of seeds. We spent decades learning how to make them grow in the bone-ash. Even the predators like Ve... we all had to learn to live on what we had. We became a family of vegans out of spite."

  Ve made a face at a piece of fruit.

  "I'm going to eat a whole cow when we get out of here."

  "Almost there," Fiji whispered.

  They walked a few more steps, rounding a final corner of jagged stone. Suddenly, a blinding, golden light hit them. It was so bright it actually hurt. Sissy shielded her eyes, her breath hitching in her throat.

  They stepped out.

  The sun was high in the sky, warm and real.

  For the first time in their lives, the Leftovers weren't looking at ribs of bone. They were looking at a vast, green valley stretching out toward the horizon.

  They were finally in the world.

  And the world had no idea they were coming.

  The golden light of the sun was almost too much to handle. It felt heavy on their skin, a warm weight that didn't bite or freeze.

  Crysorgo fell to his knees, his hands digging into the soft, green grass. He started laughing, but it sounded more like a sob.

  "We're here, Sissy. We're actually standing on soil that isn't made of ground-up bones."

  I never thought I'd see a tree again, the old man thought, his heart fluttering like a trapped bird. I really thought I'd die in that grey box.

  He grabbed Sissy's hand, his eyes bright with a new, frantic energy.

  "We can find them now! My brother, your sister... they're out here somewhere. We aren't just waiting for the end anymore. We're looking for a beginning!"

  Koro let out a long, low whistle, looking at the horizon.

  "It's so... big. I forgot how far you can see when there isn't a mountain wall in your face."

  Even Ve was quiet for once, sniffing the air with a look of pure satisfaction on his wolfish face.

  But the silence didn't last. Pippin cleared his throat, looking at the map in his head.

  "We have to split up," the small creature said.

  "The King is going to send hunters. If we stay in one big group, we're a target. Besides, we're at a crossroads. This is the intersection of three different kingdoms of the Ouroboros continent. We can disappear faster if we go different ways."

  Crysorgo nodded slowly.

  "I'll take Sissy and Koro. We'll head East. And we'll take the cat," he added, gesturing to the unconscious Lynx.

  "I'm staying with Ve," Pippin announced, puffing out his chest.

  "What!?" Ve barked, looking down at the tiny scientist.

  "You're a brute," Pippin said. "You need a caretaker so you don't get yourself skinned for a rug. Plus, I like your ears."

  Ve groaned, but he didn't say no. He actually reached down and let Pippin scramble onto his shoulder.

  "Fine. But you're... ACTUALLY A CUTE CREATURE!"

  He gripped it really hard to the point Pippin looked like he was about to pass out.

  "Ow! It hurts!"

  Lemony looked at Fiji, who was still tiny and perched on his shoulder.

  "And you? You want to stay in your cave?"

  Fiji shook his head, his little mossy eyes wide.

  "Fiji follow Lemon. Lemon is... like sun. Fiji want to see where sun goes."

  Lemony felt a strange, tight feeling in his chest. He smiled... a real one this time.

  They gathered in a circle, a group of broken, scarred, and discarded things. Crysorgo stood in the middle.

  "We were the Leftovers!" the old man shouted.

  "We were the trash thrown into the dark so the world could feel safe. But the dark didn't swallow us. It made us hard. It made us sharp. Today, we aren't sacrifices anymore. We are explorers. Go forth, and let this world know that the trash has come to claim its place!"

  With a final cheer, they began to turn away.

  One by one, they started walking toward their new lives. But as Lemony turned to leave, a voice stopped him cold.

  "Lemony..."

  He turned around.

  Sissy was standing there, her wings drooping. Lemony didn't hesitate. He set Fiji down and ran to her, pulling her into a tight, protective hug. He could feel her shaking against him.

  "We have to go, Sissy. But those three days... they weren't just a survival trip. Those memories are eternal. I'll remember it to the moment I'll die..."

  Sissy pulled back, her face wet with tears.

  "You're my savior, Lemony," she sobbed.

  "You weren't just a cat who fought for everyone. You were the light that showed me the way out of the hole. You're the reason I'm breathing."

  It hurt Lemony to hear that, but it also filled a hole in his soul he didn't know he had. He reached up and wiped a tear from her cheek with his paw.

  "We'll meet again someday. And that day, we will both be completely different. We won't look the same, we might not even have the same personalities. But the Peak... the First Rib... that's ours. I won't ever forget you, Sissy."

  And then, it was finally her turn to say what she wanted. So, she grabbed his paws.

  "Promise me one thing. Explore this world for the positive parts. Don't just see the shadows. And Lemony... cry when you need to. Don't hold it all in."

  Lemony felt a hot tear roll down his own face. He smiled through it.

  "You told me to let it out. So here I am."

  Sissy laughed through her sobs, wiped his eye, and then realized Crysorgo and Koro were already far ahead. She gave him one last squeeze and then turned, running to catch up. She didn't look back, but she waved her hand high in the air.

  Lemony stood there for a long time, watching them disappear into the trees. He looked back at the dark, jagged silhouette of the Peak of the First Rib.

  "I'm a Lemon," he muttered to himself.

  "An insult to my identity. But I'll take it. Even if I'll be the sourest thing this kingdom has ever tasted."

  He picked up Fiji and tucked him into his red coat. The mountain had tried to break him, but it only ended up forging him into something new. He turned his back on the prison and started walking into the vast, unknown green.

  "The world is big... I know I'll experience more."

  "But... I won't ever forget what I experienced on this damn mountain."

  All he knew was that the peak of his life, was The Peak Of The First Rib.

  Prologue: Peak Of The First Rib COMPLETED.