Ilaris
My legs trembled from making love, and it was mid-morning by the time we dressed and approached the beanstalk. Killian showed me a few footholds, how to climb and how to rest when I grew tired. I went first, and he followed, with a promise that Jasper would meet us at the top.
The beanstalk smelled like fresh vegetables, and the slight breeze made it sway gently back and forth.
It was easier to climb than I anticipated, nothing like scaling a tree.
The vines were still soft, slightly hairy, making it easy to grip, although after an hour, my palms were scratched raw from constantly rubbing against it.
It was like climbing a great staircase, except when I looked down, the world moved beneath me.
The higher we went, the fluffier the beanstalk became, broad leaves offering shade while hiding the ground below.
The wind picked up, bending the stalk in a way that made my stomach lurch, and I slowed, clinging to the vines like a moth fighting against being blown off into a storm.
Killian caught up with me, his bulk pressing close. Comforting, but no less terrifying.
He whispered soft words of encouragement in my ear, and we moved together, hand over hand, continuing the ascent.
My limbs burned, and the sky had gone dusky when we reached the top.
Not the top of the beanstalk, but the Sky Kingdom where the giants once dwelled.
My entire body was shaking as Killian pulled me to solid stone.
I sat for a moment, my head between my legs, taking short breaths, trying to calm myself.
I’d never climbed before, and nothing within me wanted to repeat that terrifying experience.
It felt like death was just a touch away.
The air balloon had brought us just as high, yet it felt more secure because there was a basket, a railing, something to stand against versus free-climbing a magical beanstalk.
I pressed my palms flat against the stone and reminded myself that I was safe.
As safe as one can be while floating on a rock in the sky.
It was only when a soft nose nuzzled against my cheek that I lifted my head. “Jasper,” I whispered, hugging his neck. Today he was the size of a large dog, and he smelled of warmth and green things growing. I held onto him longer than I meant to before gathering the courage to lift my head.
“Oh,” I sighed. Awed.
Killian stood a few paces away, clouds moving above him like a halo, and before us stretched the ruins of the Sky Kingdom, if ruin was even the right word for something so imposing it made the world feel too small.
Spires towered high, bending in the wind.
A row of gray statues led into the city, and beyond them, stairs climbed upward into a bank of clouds.
On either side of the stone path, rich green grass rippled across rolling hills toward a distant grove of lavender trees.
The grass and the trees made a dry crackling sound as they moved, as though something hollow lived inside them.
An uncomfortable sensation moved through me.
I couldn’t banish the thought that there might be living creatures here, things that had found sanctuary in the silence of an abandoned city.
I knew, for certain, that no scholar had ever walked this place nor studied its magnificence.
I was the first, and the thought unsettled me in a way I could not precisely name.
“Ready?” Killian’s deep voice rumbled, echoing faintly across stone.
I stood, tilting my head back. “Have you been here before?”
“No. Nor do I know Prince Castor. The giants of the Sky Kingdom kept to themselves. Aside from trade they were reluctant to leave their city.”
“Then do you know if the Unmaking came here?”
“I’m unsure, but I am certain a different kind of greed drove the giants of this kingdom. Because of their silence, their stealth, I’m unaware of what they were doing here.”
I fell into step beside him, quiet as we passed the statues.
They were giants, kings I assumed, for each wore a crown and held a scepter.
Across from each king stood a woman, a queen or princess, also crowned, also holding a scepter, the twin gesture something between ceremony and mirror.
Runes were carved at the base of each statue, and as we passed them, a glittering white mist breathed over the carvings, there and gone.
Mist threaded across the stones at our feet, dispersing like fingers.
I thought of souls, and that cold, eerie discomfort settled over me again.
When I glanced back, clouds had closed around us, hiding the beanstalk. Ahead, a great monolith rose from the stone, tall and lean, golden runes glistening against the obsidian face, careening into the heavens like a black lance.
As we approached the base, I saw stairs leading up to an altar, round and raised, much like the one I had seen in the Verdant Maw where Killian and Lady Justice argued. An object sat at its center. My breath went still as the mist parted and I recognized it.
I caught Killian’s sleeve. “It’s the Heart. Is this. . .some sort of game? A trap?”
Killian’s head lifted, eyes moving across the mist. Jasper trotted ahead, nose low, and gave a sharp bark. Something was there, beyond the veil of white. I felt its attention like a cold hand at the back of my neck.
Heat surged from Killian, and I stepped back instinctively. Knowing he would not burn me and actually standing inside the radius of his fury were two very different experiences.
Jasper’s bark sharpened, then tapered off. He trotted back to us and settled beside me, tongue lolling, as though whatever he had sensed had retreated.
Killian lowered his hands, brow knitted. “There is danger and yet, there is no danger. Stay behind me.”
We walked into the mist, which drew back as we moved, as though frightened of Killian’s fire.
When we drew level with the altar, it parted entirely, and the Sky Kingdom revealed itself in full—the monolith blazing like a second sun, the runes glowing like a warning carved into the face of the world.
At its base sat a throne, and on it sat Lady Justice.
Sat was too generous. She had collapsed against it, as though gravity had finally won an argument it had been making for some time.
Her vines spread around her like a spider’s web, roping her in place, veiny and pulsing with a dull red light.
Cracks ran across her green face, and her chest rose and fell with a rasping, wet sound as she breathed, twitched, shuddered.
“What happened to you?” Killian demanded.
There was no kindness in his tone, and I did not judge him for his lack of empathy. I myself felt very little beyond the unpleasant memory she evoked. My fingers grazed the base of my throat, all the while aware that something terrible must have happened to her.
“Took you long enough,” she croaked. Her watery gaze shifted to me. “Take back your gift.” She pointed at the altar. “Little good it did me.”
“What happened?” Killian repeated sternly.
“The Unmaking. I fought them in Caranhal while you snuck away like thieves. Night after night I held them back, but the Heart was made for sacrifice and love, not war. It was the wrong weapon to use against them, and slowly I emptied myself of everything. The Guardians there are thankless, they did not appreciate my help, so I left them to their deaths. I headed here, a more direct route than the one you took. I guess the Sky Kingdom held more secrets than the Frost Giants’ land, and I was right.
But they found me.” She closed her eyes. “They will come for you too.”
They? Something we had not yet seen? That slow, creeping cold moved through me again, and I looked around the sacred, ruined area. The crackling grass, the hollow trees, the mist curling at the hem of the monolith.
“Who do you speak of? The Unmaking?” Killian’s voice was sharp.
Lady Justice’s head lolled back. “Once there was a tale of the end of days. When the creatures beneath the world escaped, and ran like ants across the surface of the world. The Four will rise and destroy everything in their path. All life. Unmaking. Mortal. Giant. One of them gave me a mortal wound on my way here.” She breathed, a sound like tearing cloth.
“I’m not sure if they fly, but you must hurry if you wish to evade them. ”
“They are killing everything?” I asked in horror.
“They will come for you because you interfere with their plans. They will hunt you down and slay you. They aren’t far.”
I remembered the words of the Guardians in the mountains, their veiled fears, the things they had not plainly said. Each time we entered one of the giant kingdoms, we learned another layer of truth, each one heavier than the last.
I closed my eyes.
Just last night I’d been lying against Killian in the dark, blissfully happy and unaware.
And now the truth was coming to capture us, too fast, too much, and no time to brace for it.
This tale wasn’t in the scroll, and I wondered whether, had I known, whether I would have heard echoes of it from the beginning.
Whispers of world enders, of destruction moving up through the dark like roots.
When I’d first met Killian, I’d thought he was one of them. One of those who would burn the world because his kind was no more. Much like the Frost Giant who had loosened his wolves. Even the Stone Giant had thrown his own fit of rage by flooding the Verdant Maw. What calamity would we face here?
“Have you come to sow seeds of fear, of panic and pain?” Killian asked. “Clearly, you are not dead. Why would we heed your words when all of your actions have been against us?”