Killian
We spent the rest of the night with three Guardians, and in the morning, pressed on into the snow. The storm had vanished, leaving only a thick carpet of white for us to slog through. Ilaris rode on Jasper’s back, quiet after what we’d witnessed the day before.
The hall of statues lingered in my memory, the progression of life from creation all the way to the end. If, indeed, my actions would bring about the end. It left me questioning the certainty of what I’d known. Were my steps my own, or were they guided by the invisible?
Ilaris did not speak about it, so I did not bring it up.
I led us up the mountainside to where I hoped the frost giant would be, pulling his name from my memory. Nero. A prince of his people.
I’d hoped he might guard the seals with me, but after Theron, I wasn’t sure what to expect. So far there was no sign of Lady Justice, but I kept my eye out for her. If she suspected one of the gifts of the gods was here, she’d turn up somewhere. Or perhaps lie in ambush, waiting until we were done.
I snapped my fingers, waiting for that feeling to come: the heat, the fire. Nothing. As though my well of magic were empty. Without my fire, we were vulnerable.
Ilaris drew a deep breath.
We’d come to an overpass, a frozen bridge arching over an open expanse of crystal-blue sky, stretching across the mountains. Snow glistened in the hard sunlight, a sheen that made it difficult to look too far in one direction without the light making my eyes hurt.
On the far side towered a sculpture of ice, rainbow hues catching the light, weaving into a blend of blues, pinks, and yellows. The sculpture was Nero himself, wearing a crown, holding a staff, and guarding the expanse.
Guarding. When I dared to look down, the view was dizzying.
It was once where dragons roamed, making their homes on the staggered cliff sides.
It was incredible to see how far we’d come, how high the air balloon had brought us.
The drop was so severe I couldn’t see where the ground began, just an endless nothingness.
A pit. A seal. Was that another rift? Another way for the Unmaking to invade the land of the living?
I eyed Nero’s staff, momentarily wondering if it was the Rod.
Jasper came to a stop beside me. Ilaris fumbled for the scroll and unrolled it, the parchment crackling in the cold.
Her hair was loose, flowing down her back to her waist, crowning her shoulders.
She caught my eye, and I thought she’d never looked so beautiful, out in the wild, unbound.
Her expression was raw, open, allowing me to read every insecure thought that lay there.
She also had reservations about reading the scroll, awakening Nero, and our journey as a whole.
I wanted to take her into my arms, comfort her.
When this was over, and if my fire still hadn’t sparked, I would.
I was tired of that wall between us, exhausted with restraining myself for fear of hurting her.
I wanted to love her freely, without restraint, without worrying about damaging the one I loved.
There was the truth of it. Through this journey, the bond flinging us together, the days and nights of travel, the stories we swapped, the meals we’d shared, the awareness came boldly. I hadn’t considered it before, but I had come to care for her in a way that surprised me.
I had to tell her. And I thought, finally, that I understood why she had gone so quiet when opening my wedding gift in the Verdant Maw.
How unfair it must have seemed, to glimpse what might have belonged to another woman.
A bride who might never have held my affections, and there was never the opportunity to learn before all the world was broken asunder.
Ilaris began to read, the incantation of her voice weaving around me like a spell. I felt the lurch and pull, the tug toward her, the desire to awake, to act.
A crack split the silence. The ground on the other side of the expanse trembled, and a roar came like the sound of a great beast. Shards of ice tumbled off the mountain slope, making an odd whistling sound as they dropped into the gorge.
Nero moved.
He shook the last of the ice from his shoulders and leaned on his staff, his shadow stretching long and cold toward us.
Ten feet of brawn and muscle wrapped in fur, white hair falling from his head to his shoulders, his beard reaching almost to his waist. The white wasn’t because he was old.
On the contrary, he was close to my age.
The Frost Giants all had white hair, for it kept their bodies warm and was so thick they could weave it into blankets.
Nero scowled across the expanse, his fierce gaze locked on me. “What are you doing here, Prince Killian? Isn’t the world supposed to be destroyed?”
His gaze shifted to Jasper and Ilaris, and the scowl diminished a bit, shifting from contempt to curiosity.
“I have come on behalf of the mortal,” I answered. “The Unmaking are breaking the seals, escaping into the world. I ask for your help to guard the rifts.”
“Since when did we care about mortals?” Nero demanded.
“Killian, have you lost your mind? Our world was destroyed, and we were superior to them in every way. Just because you walk with some magician who can read from a scroll and awaken the last Guardians means nothing. If the Unmaking are breaking through the rift, it is time for the world to end. The gods have seen fit to destroy the mortals, and should they wish to survive, they must fight their own battles. Our time is up. The age of giants is over. We would do better to fall in line with the will of the gods than to resist them. For what they seek is to destroy this world through famine and plagues, storms and signs. And now, the demons from the underworld, the Unmaking. Leave the mortals to their fate, or join me and help me burn the world down.”
Anger moved through me, slow and hot, and I waited for the familiar response: smoke at my shoulders, fire bleeding through the cracks in my skin. A tiny lick of heat stirred and died. The cold smothered it.
“Woe to you and the words you speak,” I shouted across the rift.
“That you would turn your back on the living. The Unmaking are here because of us. It’s our fault.
We dug too deep. We sought too much. In our greed, our lust, we weren’t satisfied with what we had.
We wanted more and more, and more was not enough, not even the gifts the gods gave us.
Where is the Stone, Nero? Where is the Rod? ”
“You speak to me of greed, yet you led us, Prince of all Princes. It was your kingdom that led us into folly. Dare you speak of the gifts of the gods? Oh, the irony of it, coming here with your greed, seeking the last treasures.”
“Don’t you see what I’m doing? I’m trying to stop them.”
“Are you? By chasing after endless power? Only to rule again, over a kingdom of mortals this time.”
“The gifts aren’t for me, they are for her.”
Nero blinked. His gaze shifted to Ilaris, then back to me.
Then his shoulders sagged with disappointment.
“You care about the mortal. I see. You’ve come to a reckless ruin.
You should not have woken me, you shouldn’t have come here.
I have nothing for you but words of woe.
The gifts of the gods were never here. There was one in the Verdant Maw, one in the Sky Kingdom, and one under the waters.
Here in the ice and cold, we were damned from the start.
Leave me to my slumber and leave in haste, before I send the wolves after you. ”
“Wait.” Ilaris’s voice broke through Nero’s rant. “There’s more.”
She held up the scroll and read the rest of it. The words I’d read out loud to her, not so long ago. Listening to them fall from her lips stirred something within, the truth of it plain to see. When I could tear my gaze from Ilaris, reading, I studied Nero to see the effect the words had on him.
He listened, his expression unreadable, although his fingers twitched on his staff.
When she finished, his eyes narrowed.
“Prince Killian, I was going to give you a dragon. I convinced my father it would be an apt wedding gift for a fire prince. It was a young one. We’d captured them, tamed them, bred them.
It all started with an egg, with a wild bargain with one of the great dragon lords.
It was wrong of us to conquer such a wild beast, and here you do the same.
I am weary, not from life, but from death.
My heart mourns our people and the great loss.
Do not ask me to assist with your fool’s quest. Do not ask me to come to the aid of those who can aid themselves.
All I see is death and devastation, and that is all I wish on any.
I will call forth the Four. They will choose whom to destroy.
The Unmaking or mortal, I do not know. This is not my world anymore. ”
He lifted his arms and chanted, eyes closed, his body shaking as he bellowed forth into the chasm.
A coldness came over me as I watched him, like an icy shard to the heart.
I was here, alive and well, and it was not enough.
If Theron had answered the call and come with me, would Nero’s reaction have been different?
Would two giants have been enough to stay his hand?
No. Because, like all of us, he’d lost everything he cared about, and there was no replacement for it, no purpose, no drive to carry on.
He’d lost his love for life, buried it deep within the ice.
Some called the Frost Giants cold and cruel.
I understood why, even though I’d never seen it for myself.
Had it been true all along? Were the giants hell-bent on wickedness? And I’d never seen it until now?
A clattering came from the chasm, like many claws striking against ice and stone. My skin crawled at the sound, and I turned to Jasper. Can you bear both of us? We need to run.
Jasper snorted as though insulted by my question.
I leaped astride, bringing my arms around Ilaris and drawing her warmth toward me. She startled, then leaned back into me as she tucked the scroll away. “I suppose he’s not going to help us, is he?”
“No. But we know the location of the gifts. We go to the Sky Kingdom.”
And Jasper spun away from the expanse, from Nero chanting, and bounded away into the white.