Ilaris #2
“The Heart protected me, but only for so long.” Lady Justice’s voice had gone thin, the rasp more pronounced.
“My time is over now. I thought I would bring justice, as my name demands. I thought it was my duty, but it is clear the scholar was chosen to receive the Heart. The fate of the world doesn’t lie in my hands, nor your hands anymore.
It belongs in the hands of the mortals.” Her eyes found mine.
“You have a chance: keep the Four fixated on you, use the Heart to protect yourself. And hurry. Time is short.”
Her breath rattled in her chest, and then she was still. I wasn’t certain she was dead, and I didn’t want to check. The dread threatened to overwhelm me. Instead, I looked at Killian. “Where is the giant we need to wake?”
“I’m not certain I want to wake him,” Killian replied, brow furrowed.
“We need to find the Rod,” I said. “We can’t finish this without the three gifts.” Turning back to the altar, I picked up the Heart. Warmth flooded my palms, cutting through my panic like a candle lit in a dark room, providing a pool of light, relief.
Killian tilted his head back and pointed at the black monolith. “Something within me thinks he’ll be inside there. If you speak, I believe he’ll hear.”
Tucking the Heart away, I unrolled the scroll.
The words were familiar now, the shapes of them settling on my memory like a well-worn path.
My voice, when I read them aloud, carried something I did not recognize, a resonance beneath the sound of it, humming in the bones of my chest, as though the words had been waiting to be spoken here, in this exact place.
The ground trembled. Killian placed his hand against the small of my back as the monolith blazed brighter, as though it were becoming the sun itself.
The light was gold, then white. Smoke billowed from it, and then came a crack like the world splitting, and the monolith shattered, detonating outward, sending stone raining down.
Out of the debris stepped a winged giant. He shook the rubble from his wings with a single great beat, the air rushing past me with enough force to push me back a step.
Despite the impossible height the tower had been, the giant was no taller than Killian, lean and well-muscled, wearing only a cloth at his waist, curly black hair with a golden crown perched above it, brown skin catching the light the way my own did.
In both hands he held a scepter, the same object I had seen again and again in the line of statues.
The Rod.
Killian claimed he knew little about the Sky Kingdom and the giants that lived there. Would he have known that they used the Rod to rule?
The Sky Giant approached us, giving barely a glance to Lady Justice, who slumped on his throne, now covered in rubble.
He bowed, as though we were royalty, then dropped to one knee and held out the scepter. “You’ve come. The priest said that this day might come, and it would be a dark day indeed.”
“Rise, Prince Castor,” Killian said. “What can you tell us?”
Prince Castor stood. He was quite young, perhaps in his early twenties, and it made me sad. What a shame for a young life to be so wasted.
His eyes were wide, golden like the sun as he studied Killian. “You must be the Fire Prince.”
“Prince Killian.”
“Ah. My father told me you were ambitious, bold, and I should be more like you.” Castor gave a wry grin. “Apparently you are the reason we are in this mess. Not the sole reason, we all bore the responsibility, but your actions were the tipping point.” His gaze moved to me. “Is this your queen?”
“My bride,” Killian said. “Ilaris the Scholar.”
The word settled against my heart. Bride. Heat rose to my face, a blush of both embarrassment and pride.
“Welcome.” Prince Castor smiled. “To the bitter remains of my kingdom.” He held out the scepter. “Here, a gift.”
I stepped forward, holding out my hands to take it. But he did not give it to me right away. He held it a moment longer, eyes moving over it with what might have been grief or relief. “The Rod will help you,” he said, and released it.
“Thank you, for keeping it,” I said, not sure what else to say.
He nodded, then shifted back to Killian.
“There’s not much I can tell you that perhaps you don’t already know.
I was also a scholar in our time, studying the future and predictions of what might come.
That’s why the Rod was entrusted to me. But if I read the sundial correctly, the years that have passed are beyond counting. ”
“I have not counted them myself,” Killian offered.
“Thousands, perhaps. Mortals rule the world now, and have reached the heights of advancement we once lived in. They are not without their corruptions, political wars, laws bent to serve the powerful, manipulating truth with enticing lies. And yet there is help for them still. No reason to abandon them to their vices. There is always hope.”
“Unless you’re us. We were unforgivable. Too far gone.” Prince Castor shook his head. “Then it is true, the Unmaking break against the seals of the world?”
“Yes, and the Four have arisen.”
Prince Castor stepped back, a look of shock across his face. “Is it as bad as that? What are you going to do?”
“Collect the gifts, stop them.”
Prince Castor narrowed his eyes. “How?”
I stepped forward and opened the scroll. “I found this, before I woke Prince Killian. The words to summon, awaken a giant, to break the bonds that held you in stone. And beneath it are more words, on how to stop the Unmaking.”
Prince Castor took the scroll with both hands, holding it reverently.
He read over it, whispering the words under his breath.
When he finished, his eyes were wider. He stared at us.
“You’re going to do this? You are willing to give the ultimate sacrifice?
” He shook his head. “The world doesn’t deserve this, the mortals haven’t earned this.
You could walk away, let them die, let them pay for their own sins. As we did.”
“Yes,” Killian echoed. “We could just walk away, try to carve a new world for ourselves, away from the Unmaking.” He was quiet for a moment.
When he spoke again, his voice was low and measured.
“But I have learned that what people deserve is not the question I can stop at. None of us deserve any of this, not the gifts, not the second chance, not forgiveness, not love. We are bold, greedy, and ignorant, so certain of our own importance. We are entitled and believe everyone owes us. But I have been all those things. When I first woke, I wanted revenge. I wanted to burn the world alive. But now, I have tried to hold myself differently, to ask not what I can take but what I can give. This is not about me. It is a chance at redemption, and I cannot make peace with my conscience if my mistakes are left to consume the entire world. It already cost me everything once.”
Prince Castor went still. He looked off into the wind, and something moved across his face.
“A prince of fire will come and teach wisdom,” he said, almost to himself.
“You would do well to listen. To learn.” He blinked, as though surfacing from a trance.
“I will help you. I still carry the spirit of the wind. It has not forgotten me. I will hold back the Four as long as I am able, but you must not delay. You have the Heart and the Rod. The Stone is underwater. I will take you as far as the shore. From there, you are on your own.”
“How can we thank you?” Killian asked.
“You have given me two gifts: first, the gift of life, a second chance I did not earn. The second was wisdom. I understand now what I did not in my first life.” He tilted his head. “Thank you for waking me.”
I had no words for that. This was the first giant we had met who did not need to be argued with, did not resist, did not turn his grief into a weapon aimed at us. He simply understood and offered himself anyway.
Part of me wanted to kneel down on the cold stone and weep with relief.