Killian
Hunger. The word ripped through me with an understanding, an awakening I did not expect. She was the source, driving that insatiable craving, that deepening need. She fell back, a soft sound escaping from her throat as she held out a hand to steady herself, catching her balance on the table.
Her eyes had gone slightly glazed, but I remained rigid, unable to break her gaze as though the barest hint of a kiss held me spellbound, wrapping stone around me once again. It took an immense will to keep my tone even. “You could not resist. You’ve wanted to do that since you woke me.”
Her eyes widened, as though she were innocent, the single word no more than a whisper. “No.”
“Liar. I see the way you look at me. I smell your desire. But you should not wish for more. I am dangerous.”
Her fingers tapped the top of the chair. “I know.”
She didn’t fully comprehend what it meant to touch me, to get too close.
“I am fire.” I dragged my gaze from her lips. “I destroy everything I touch.”
“I know,” she repeated.
But she didn’t. All it would take was one moment lost in passion, and I might burn her to ash in my arms. “No. You don’t. But you will if you persist with this.”
Now she stepped back, pressing a finger to her lips, but her gaze, treacherous and desirous, gave her away. She didn’t believe me, not for a moment. “You don’t frighten me,” she said.
Those weren’t the words of someone bold and defiant. It was the simple truth, laid plainly before me.
“I get the sense you’re not frightened when you should be.” I eyed the scroll, the edges of it peeking out of her bag. She was ideal for this task—bold and unexpected—but too curious for her own good. If I wasn’t careful, I’d get us both killed. “Sleep. I’ll keep watch.”
“Don’t you need to sleep?”
“I’ve been asleep for years. One night awake will do me no harm.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
Even though she shifted away, I was acutely aware of the small space of the hut, of the sound of cloth against skin, and the pull of heavy blankets.
The thought hovered before me unbidden. The invitation extended. All I had to do was rise and accept it.
Despite the tug within, I knew that I wouldn’t touch Ilaris the Scholar. I needed her alive, well, and undamaged. I needed her knowledge and the power of her voice. She might claim the world did not have magic, but something unique hovered around her and resonated in my mind like a melody.
I settled in front of the fire, even though the night was balmy.
I let the flame die out and watched the shadows shift into depths of velvet blackness.
But nothing was darker than those tombs, those tunnels deep under the earth.
Here, light shone through the window, the sky was a navy blue with hints of faraway starlight.
They sparkled like diamonds, reveling in their midnight dance.
The fire died, the embers glowing red, then gold, then not at all.
Eventually came birdsong, and underneath it all was the music of the waves, rolling, crashing against the shore.
The water was calling. Calling. Had it always rung out, that wordless song?
Demanding release? How many souls had it driven mad, making them dive deeper, swim faster, only to drown before they reached the source? Because the source was unreachable.
What lay beneath those waves had been buried there when the world was young.
And shouldn’t be calling. Shouldn’t be awake or aware, unless the seals were weakening faster than I expected.
It was a wonder the mortals didn’t call this bay cursed, unless the songs were new and hadn’t been there until she had woken me.
She slept hard without moving, her breath slow and steady, a music of its own.
One of her books still lay on the table, and I flipped through it, a study of giants, runes and ruins.
A preposterous lie. Stories pulled from fragments, scholarly thought intent on unearthing what should not be unearthed.
Not without someone who was there, who knew the plans and motives and the meaning of eternity.
Perhaps that was why the scholar sought truth.
She wanted me to give her what no historical account could provide.
And I would give it to her, even though it would be meaningless.
By the time my brethren were awake, there wouldn’t be a world for her to return to, to stand on academic accolades and earn the praise of her peers.
Praise she desperately wanted, even though she attempted to hide that part of herself by revealing something deeper: her past in a field of poppies.
It was the bell that brought me to my feet. A gong that rang out. Seven strikes, just as it had always been. All these thousands of years later, and it was still there, still ringing. I didn’t question the possibilities. Instead, I unlocked the door and let myself out.
The fresh scent of dew, of salt-stung waves filled the air along with the constant mist that hung over the waters.
What was it hiding? I left the door open, hoping the chill of the morning air would wake Ilaris.
It was time to leave. I felt sure of the direction.
The rest of the details would come once we were on our way.
The mist parted, and a boat emerged. A man got out, dragged the boat up on the shore, then lifted out a basket full of fish, so fresh they still flapped about. Putting the basket on his back, he picked up a walking stick and headed across the beach.
I walked down the slope toward him. It was uncanny to see another mortal. This one who didn’t know me nor where I’d come from.
“Need help with the fish?” I called.
The man paused, glanced at me, then back at the shore. “I didn’t see your boat. Did you arrive this morning?”
“Yesterday.”
His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Then, “Yes, I could use a hand with the fish. I came to see Ilaris, the Scholar. You might have seen her?”
“She came to study the ruins?”
The man nodded. “I’m Harlan, one of the few bold enough to come here. Pardon me, I did not intend to come off as rude, but you surprised me. I haven’t seen you in these parts before. You’re not from Stonehaven.”
The name was unfamiliar. “No, it’s been a while since I’ve been to these parts.”
“Then perhaps you’d be interested in a tour?”
“Actually, I’m more interested in getting back to the mainland.”
“Then I’ll take you when I leave.”
I nodded. Conversation was never hard, nor was getting what I wanted from people. Not much had changed.
“Have you had breakfast?” Harlan asked.
“Not yet.”
“Join me on the beach. I’m partial to building a fire out here. Food always tastes best outdoors.”
A truth I agreed with.
We gathered driftwood, and when his back was turned I sparked a flame, coaxing the fire into life. He didn’t question it as he built a spit for the fish, then passed me a knife. We sat on rocks, skinning and gutting the fish, talking as we worked.
“I grew up around these parts,” Harlan said.
“Still do a bit of everything: fishing, woodworking, the odd jobs. I like coming out here. It’s quiet.
The wildness is still in the woods, the ancient spirit lingering in the bones of the earth.
I think it’s because of the ruins, but most people are spooked.
They believe in curses, would rather not speak about it, much less pass through the mist to come here. So I’m surprised you’re here. Why?”
I laid the clean fish on rocks, so Harlan could skewer them over the fire. Ironic how the truth struck me in ways that Harlan would never understand. “I guard that which should not be opened, and find a way to ensure what is done cannot be undone.”
Harlan shrugged. “Sounds like a riddle to me. You might be interested in the ruins then. I was planning on taking the scholar there, unless she found her way there yesterday. I’m sure she has questions.”
I avoided talking about Ilaris. It wasn’t my concern, and she could speak for herself. So I asked another question instead. “What is your interest in the giants?”
“I’d say it’s more intellectual. They were before our time, yet they accomplished feats humans never have.
Or at least the evidence is still there.
They lived longer lives, were smarter, faster, better.
I suppose I’m curious what wisdom I might glean from the past, what treasure might be uncovered. ”
Treasure. It always came back to finding what should remain buried. Taking what didn’t belong. “And the fact that the giants’ greed led to the Great Sundering doesn’t frighten you?”
“So you’ve heard that story too. I was wondering.
There is a fear.” He tapped his heart. “A deep respect. That’s why I walk and look, but I don’t prod too deeply.
There was one man who came, another scholar.
He tried to do some digging, searching for the lost treasure of that age, gold, silver, precious stones.
But something spooked him, scared him off. ”
Interesting. Ilaris hadn’t told me this. “What did he find?”
“He never said.” Harlan’s gaze shifted away, first to the fire, then to the mist. “Just came back with glazed eyes, looking old and withered. Can’t say I know what happened to him, but I keep the huts up on the shore.
His was clean, bare, except for the fireplace.
There was an unusual amount of ash. I assumed he burned all his notes.
Ilaris hadn’t heard of him, and she’s a scholar too.
Although I’m not sure how many of them there are, or if they all know each other, like we do in my village. ”
Harlan’s words drew me into a musing silence. I watched the dance of flames, thinking of glazed eyes, withered skin, burned notes. The man had seen something in the ruins. I knew what he’d found. The question was whether he’d found it by accident or whether it had found him.
I waited for Harlan to fill the silence, but he, too, seemed comfortable without words as he handed me the first cooked fish.
It melted on my tongue. Food cooked over a fire carried a certain char, an earthiness to it that tasted better than anything else.
The flavors were simple, but it was enough.
“Are there other places in the world, similar to this place?”
Harlan’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean? Ancient ruins? Forgotten cities? I’m sure there are plenty of those, but Scholar Ilaris would know best.”
The ghost of her lips touching mine haunted me.
I’d been too distracted to question her properly, a mistake I’d quickly remedy.
Time was shorter than I’d hoped. If the barriers were falling here, they’d be falling elsewhere.
If my brethren woke without me there to guide them, to remind them of what we’d sworn, the answer was only chaos.
Warmth surged through me as fire tried to burst free.
I quelled my dark urges. Let them come. My focus should be peace, yet part of me wanted war. Chaos. To let them burn.
Something flickered at the edge of my vision. Jasper, dashing toward the waves. And then, Ilaris herself, as though just by thinking her name, I’d summoned her.
A quizzical expression sat on her face as she approached, her gaze lingering on me before shifting to Harlan. But the question was for me.
Jasper bounded out of the water, barking and spraying salty water and sand.
Harlan stood and held out some fish. “Breakfast?”