5. Ilaris
Ilaris
Ithrew my arms over my head as debris rained down. Dust choked the air, and through it came a low, rumbling sound. Not the roar of stone breaking, but something breathing.
I spun.
In the distance, one of the mountains had come alive, black smoke pouring from its peak, red lava running down its sides.
My chest went tight as I watched it, unsure whether I was in danger and needed to retreat to the hut.
Would the lava run this way, or was the mountain merely showing off, a reaction that happened frequently?
When I turned back to the statue, those golden eyes were no longer stone. They were watching me.
I lowered my arms to my sides, staring in disbelief. The statue was cracking. Not crumbling, but opening like an egg. Stone peeled away in chunks, and beneath it gleamed golden-bronze skin. I couldn’t look away, couldn’t breathe as I watched, dumbfounded.
Cracks glowed molten, bleeding light like veins of fire beneath flesh. When the stone fell away, muscle emerged. Broad shoulders, a powerful chest rising and falling. But it was the eyes that captivated me. They were fiery gold. Blazing. Staring directly at me.
My heart slammed against my ribs, and heat flooded me. Not from the embers dancing in the air around him, but from somewhere deeper, lower. It coiled in my belly and spread like liquid fire through my veins, filling me with an unfamiliar ache.
Again came that strange compulsion, almost a demand.
I wanted to step forward, reach out, touch him, to see what he felt like, to know if he was truly alive.
Seconds ago, he’d only been a statue until I read that damned scroll.
I could almost hear my grandmother scolding—or would she be praising me—for acting before thinking?
His gaze held mine, unblinking, and for one suspended moment I saw something flicker in those molten depths. Hunger? Anger? His gaze traced over me, slow and deliberate. Down my throat, across my collarbone. Lower still, lingering on the rise and fall of my chest, hidden beneath my armor.
My breath hitched, and my face went warm. It was as if he knew exactly what he was doing to me. His lips parted as though he might speak, and I watched the movement, transfixed by the curve of his mouth, the strong line of his jaw, and the column of his throat as he swallowed.
The stone around his torso split and fell away.
Firelight danced across skin that gleamed like bronze freshly poured.
I licked my lips, wishing he would say something, aware that I could say something too, but I couldn’t stop staring.
The hard planes of his chest, the ridges of muscle along his stomach, disappearing beneath the low-slung waistband of his pants.
Of course, I’d seen men before, but nothing had prepared me for this.
For him. He wasn’t human—that much was obvious from the way fire glowed underneath his skin.
Was he a giant? He was big, tall, but not overwhelmingly.
In my mind, I thought of giants as two or three times my size.
I was a tall woman, but up close he might only be a head and shoulders taller than me.
Up close. Heat emanated from him in waves, yet I took a step forward anyway, moving closer to this impossible being.
His eyes tracked the movement, and something in his expression shifted. Darkened. His nostrils flared as though catching a scent, and his irises burned brighter. The muscles in his jaw tightened as his hands flexed.
Did he feel it too? That strange pull between us?
Then his skin rippled, and flames cascaded across his body. I should have stumbled back, should have run, but I stood frozen as fire danced over him.
The heat was immense, rolling off him in waves. Not consuming, but becoming. The chains glowed red, then white-hot. One by one they snapped, falling away just like the stone.
He stepped forward. Free.
My pulse thundered in my ears, and not entirely from fear. His movements were all lethal grace and burning power. Predatory and controlled, vastly different from the way humans moved. Who was he? A fire god?
He rolled his shoulders back, hands flexing in a way that made me weak at the knees. He planted his feet, claiming the ground beneath him. His hands ignited, flames erupting from his palms in twin columns of gold and amber.
And still—still—the reckless part of me wanted to move closer.
Terror finally broke through the spell as the flames leaped higher.
Why hadn’t I paused? Why hadn’t I considered the consequence? He’d been chained for a reason, turned to stone because of some great wrong. The gods had seen fit to punish him, and I’d set him free.
There was no hidden truth here, only death and devastation, locked away until I’d foolishly followed in the footsteps of my grandmother and behaved badly. Regret tasted like ash on my tongue as I lifted my face, and the realization swept over me.
He was going to kill me.
A bark broke the tension, and the horned dog dashed between us, teeth bared, growling. The giant lowered his hands just a fraction, but it was enough. I found my tongue as I knelt to protect the dog. “Don’t hurt me, I come in peace.”
Fire extinguished as though I’d poured water over him.
The glowing embers underneath his skin faded, though that gold gaze held me as his mouth moved.
Instinctively, I leaned forward, anticipating his words as his lips twitched.
Finally, his gaze released me, lingering on my hand where the scroll was still clutched in my fingers.
What had possessed me to read it aloud?
His low voice rumbled like the beginning of thunder. “Who sent you? Why are you here?”
That voice. It was deep and smooth, enveloping me with warmth. A slow yearning throbbed in my soul. Unbidden. Unwelcome. Undeniable. Breaking eye contact, I stood tall, holding the scroll in both hands as though it would shield me from any further outbursts of fire.
The horned dog sat back on its haunches and cocked its head, watching us.
“My name is Ilaris. I was sent here by the House of Scholars to study the runes and translate them. I’m seeking knowledge, truth, but I did not expect to awaken you.”
“Do you know what you’ve done?”
Anger laced his words. Why was he so upset?
I eyed his broad hands, those long fingers, the veins running up his muscular forearms. Awareness settled over me.
It would take very little for him to hurt me, a reminder that I should choose my words carefully, even though his obvious anger made me want to lash out.
Instead, I held up the scroll, keeping my words even. “I read from the scroll. I believe the words woke you. It wasn’t my intent to pull you from the afterlife, or wherever your soul was at rest. And I certainly didn’t expect you to be so ungrateful.”
That last jab caught his attention. His eyes went wide, nostrils flared as though no one had dared to speak to him with such audacity.
A little zing of pleasure went through me at his reaction, even though I knew I might nurse burns to go along with my bruises should he retaliate.
My armor wasn’t strong enough to withstand fire.
He stepped closer. “It is not ungratefulness. You are ignorant of what happened here.”
I looked at the chains, still glowing red-hot from where he’d burned them off. He was a prisoner, that much was obvious, but he could be a thief, a murderer, an outcast. Where did he fit into the society of giants? Was he one of them or some kind of magic I shouldn’t have touched?
A memory came to me, of leaving the train and seeing the old, wizened man by the side of the road with his ox. The words floated in my memory. Don’t go.
What had I done?
Since there was no sense in shrinking away from what I’d done, and no putting the fully flesh man back inside stone, I lifted my chin. “Then tell me what happened. I know nothing about you, and I suspect you know nothing about this world. You’re one of them, aren’t you? One of the ancient giants?”
Rolling his shoulders back, he shifted, turning to take in his surroundings.
No longer the center of his attention, I felt my knees go weak.
I gripped the scroll as though it would give me strength and glanced at the horned dog.
It sat contentedly, still watching the giant.
I followed his gaze to the mountain where black smoke rolled, and a creeping dread came over me.
Whatever happened next, I wanted the truth about that door the giants had supposedly found, and what was behind it.
Finally, he shifted back toward me, his expression unreadable. “It’s not safe here. We should move to higher ground.”
He led the way, moving slowly, and I followed. Every few steps he paused, gazing across the ruins. We moved up the stone steps, back toward the archway and the rune-covered stones that led into the realm.
I couldn’t imagine what it must be like for him, returning to life after so long. How many thousands of years had it been since he lived? Had he seen the devastation of his homeland? Was it a shock to see the city in ruins?
I studied him as we moved. He wore only a loose pair of gray pants, and his feet were bare.
Long, dark hair fell past his shoulders, hanging in gentle waves that would make any woman jealous.
My throat went tight, that fluttering sensation inside as though I were looking at something I shouldn’t be.
A stiffness punctuated his movements, as though parts of him were still rigid stone. But it was the light moving under his skin that captured my attention. At times his skin looked like cracked stone with fire bleeding out of it. Other times it was smooth. Normal.