Chapter Forty-Four Abel #2
“It seemed a promising choice at the time. We learned eons ago that cooperation between both domains is necessary for a realm to flourish. But humans were a young species. They were greedy, inexperienced creators, and uncooperative with each other. They did not acknowledge their capacity to cause harm. Eventually, Diu and I stopped them with the only method we had left.”
“You revoked their immortality,” I fill in. “But how did you do that if your power was so limited?”
“We Ascended.” He looks up, as if seeing beyond the stalactites.
“In the celestial realm, the constraints on our powers lift. We can add new rules to a realm—so long as it applies on a blanket scale. From there, we pulled the magic from human blood, then created the passage of time. Day and night. One sun, one moon. A way for humans to measure their new, mortal lives.”
“But you didn’t remain there. You returned to the mortal realm.”
“Our final mistake,” he acknowledges. “We hoped to help the first generation of mortals adjust to the change. Most of them accepted their fate. Alas, some did not. They attacked us with moonmetal weapons to steal our blood, and their immortality, back. Thankfully, Diu escaped.”
“But they chained you in here.” For a blink, Micah’s human form takes Noctu’s place. “To bleed you of your magic.”
“Diu retaliated by adding a second sun to your sky. His celestial magic imposed a new rule for mortals to live by.”
“The dragon curse,” I finish for him.
He nods. “That is the true story of Ascension Day.”
“It still doesn’t feel real.” I grip one of the cell bars. It doesn’t budge. “Even my smith could free you from this, if he had the right tools.”
“Your smith can bend moonmetal because the process involves fire,” he explains. “That is a rule of your realm. Now that I exist within its limitations, even I cannot freely shape lunar material as I would in the celestial realm.”
“So you need fire.”
“Correct,” he confirms. “Without fire strong enough to melt these chains, I am as trapped as any mortal.”
Noctu needs fire.
Dragons breathe fire.
My lungs tighten as I dig through Claire’s satchel.
My journal opens with a crack of the spine.
The true history of this realm—the history as Noctu has told me—threads itself through the patchwork of clues on these pages, pulling everything I’ve learned into one seamless piece, as tight and secure as Madame Afi’s stitching.
The answer is so obvious, I’m shaking with fury that I didn’t see it before.
“Diu has been trying to rescue you?” I exclaim.
“Now you understand.” Noctu smiles morbidly. “Diu created the Ignition to search for me from the safety of the celestial realm. Dragons are his foot soldiers.”
“Then the owl constellation—”
“—is made of stars. Other suns. And therefore his creation as well. He designed it to serve as a compass for dragons to recognize while in human form. Their instincts are the magnet that compels them to follow my owls north.”
“Owls were guiding Claire?”
“Yes. And others.”
That explains the converging flight paths, and how the owls predicted where they’d end up. Where dragons went, they followed. But if all this time, dragons needed to survive to end the curse—
I stare, dumbfounded. “Slayers have been working against Diu.”
Noctu’s star-filled eyes follow me as I put the journal away and pace the cavern, working blood through my limbs just to ensure I’m still alive and present in the mortal realm.
The Tale of Stars—the Church itself—is a complete fabrication.
A way to convince us mere mortals to ignore the instructions Diu placed in the stars and blame each other for the continued existence of dragons.
This is the answer I’ve been looking for since the day Micah turned. He wasn’t greedy. He was innocent. All of them were.
Diu chose his dragons for no other reason than to follow the stars.
Still, vindication can’t ease the pain of knowing there is no cure for Claire.
Heavier than ever, I retreat to kneel at her side and place the lantern near her peaceful face.
Firelight flickers across the angle of her nose, the planes of her cheeks, the outline of her scar.
As much as it hurts to absorb this information alone, I’m thankful she sedated herself. A good dream is better than reality.
“Is this why you wanted to speak to me?” I swallow the thickness in my throat. “To tell me everything slayers have done wrong?”
“Ideally, I wished to speak to you and the dragon. To prepare you for the Ignition to come.”
“She consumed sleep powder. She won’t wake for several hours.”
“Then once she wakes, you must explain her purpose to her.”
A purpose that killed her father and made her feel terrible, terrible guilt. All that sorrow, all that turmoil—just to fight on behalf of Noctu’s furious brother, who refused to risk his own hide to return to this realm and free Noctu himself.
“Diu’s curse has killed thousands of innocent people, including the dragons themselves,” I snap. “What is his justification for that?”
“He was angry,” he replies with a shrug, “and wanted to save me.”
Rage shudders through me—then gutters out. I understand how far someone might go to save his only brother. I have no room to judge.
“I imagine you’re angry with us,” I say. “Is that the reason Florent has endured meteorite strikes for so long? Do those follow your instincts too?”
My real question hangs between us: Do you believe humankind deserves to die?
He considers me for a moment. “I harbor no ill will toward mortals, flawed as you may be,” he replies. “My celestial materials fall to this realm because I am unable to keep them at a distance. With enough time, every piece of my domain will follow me here. It will not be pleasant for you humans.”
In other words, the apocalypse. Just not for the reasons we were taught.
“Do the Immortals know their actions will cause an apocalypse?” I ask.
“They do.”
“Then why do they pursue immortality? What is their goal?”
“Wealth. Power. Control. The usual shortsighted temptations. In their defense, they will have many more centuries to indulge in it. Though speaking as one of their creators, I believe their primary goal is to evade the psychological consequences of shame.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You do, slayer. More than most. Doubling down on your actions is the mind’s way of insisting you did nothing wrong.”
The truth knifes me in the ribs. He’s right.
Only after I killed Gérard did I realize that my actions were wrong.
The shame and guilt are tolerable because Claire showed me I could atone.
Half-baked Immortals who manipulated an entire kingdom for over seventeen centuries will never acknowledge their wrongdoing.
The weight of that shame would demolish their psyches.
But it won’t demolish mine. I will atone for the dragons I killed.
Lucy whimpers and licks Claire’s cheek as if begging her to wake up. No response. Not even a twitch of her brow.
“How does this end for her?” I ask, throat thick.
“Wait here for morning.” Noctu leans forward. “When the suns eclipse, her dragon form will melt my prison. I will Ascend. Then I shall revoke my magic from my captors and let their bodies wither.”
“Dragon fire won’t kill you?”
The corner of Noctu’s mouth lifts. “Destruction of my body is merely one way to Ascend.”
“And Claire? What happens to her once you’re gone?”
“The purpose of Diu’s curse will end. She will become human again.”
My lungs push out every bit of air I’ve been holding. “You said there was no cure.”
“There is not. Dragons never needed one.”
This isn’t the solution I imagined, but the result is the same. Claire’s future lies in her completing the task Diu imposed on her. In other words, the magic needs to run its course.
Laughing, I kiss Claire’s forehead. All she has to do is follow her instincts and free Noctu. After this Ignition, she’ll never turn again. No dragon will.
“A warning, Abel Estellio.”
I tense.
“My fanatics,” he goes on, “have lived multiple lifespans. They are expert strategists. They know when to cut their losses and change their tactics.”
“Based on the supply caches the gendarmes found, they don’t have access to the weapons necessary to kill Claire’s dragon form. The rest of us can hide until she frees you.”
“Moonmetal is the least of your concerns. You underestimate their resources.”
Dread ices my stomach. “How far is their reach?”
“Further than you can fathom. They’ve infiltrated many powerful corners of society to keep the truth buried. The Church. The banks. The printing press.”
“The slayer archives?”
“Further than that. They founded the Slayers Guild.”
I nearly knock over the lantern. “What?”
“You heard me correctly,” he says. “The Immortals are the original dragon slayers.”