Killian
“Legends tell of the Divine who created this world,” I told Ilaris as we stood on the shore, staring at the great expanse of foaming waters.
“He labored to form this world, the land, the plants, every animal and every being that walks upon the surface. He created the gods, the greater and the lesser, and gave them gifts, unique powers to use for good. He gave giants and mortals the breath of life, and minds powerful enough to build, to grow, to do all we saw fit to do. And for a time it was good. But we took the breath of life for granted. We forgot about the Divine, who might have seen us as His children, the great experiment meant to bring Him joy. In our arrogance, we thought ourselves in control, rulers of the world, and we let our hearts grow corrupt. But there was one place, so the tales say, that was never corrupted, because we could not reach it, because our influence could not reach to those depths. And that was the great sea, the waters that stretch before us now. Unblemished, unmarred.”
I fell silent, staring at the waters. The story didn’t need to be told.
I could have simply walked into the waves with Ilaris by my side.
Yet I held back, procrastinating because in this, I was afraid.
I hadn’t forgotten the tentacled being that had dragged her under, then demanded something in exchange for her freedom.
I would have to reckon with it now and face my fears.
Recently the word I’d heard over and over again was sacrifice, and if it came down to it, I already knew I would fight with everything I had to keep from sacrificing her.
“According to the tale then, the sea is all that is good and beautiful?” She turned it over slowly, mistrust in her tone. “But what of the tales of sea monsters? When I was in Vold, I heard music coming from below, and we were attacked . . .” She trailed off.
I glanced up, wishing Prince Castor hadn’t gone so quickly.
Using his wings and wind, he’d blown the Sky Kingdom over the shore and dropped us here, then left to hold back the Four and the Unmaking.
A near impossible task for one so young.
I was grateful for his help. It gave me hope, and even that hope made me aware I had no right to stand procrastinating on the shore.
Something waited underneath. I had to face it.
“Unblemished, unmarred,” I repeated, quieter this time.
“Until the fallen walk within it. Then what lives inside tries to claim them.” I felt the truth of it settle in my chest, old knowledge, stories passed from tongue to tongue, not written in scrolls.
“We have never truly known what lies at the bottom, only that it remembers everything that entered it.” I looked at her then.
“The music you heard in Vold, you weren’t imagining it. ”
She hugged her arms to her chest, but I caught the faint tremor in her hands.
“The villagers were afraid. They told me never to set foot in the water at night. As though I might be taken. Claimed. I thought it was because of the Great Sundering, some magic left over from the age of giants. I wasn’t sure it would be a monster, but it didn’t feel good. ”
“We cannot tell whether something is good or bad based on feelings. It is natural to have fear in the face of something powerful, to feel awe and want to escape from what we don’t understand. Even if it will not harm us, there has to be respect for the old and the ancient.”
“That kind of respect, that awe, has long left the land of the mortals,” Ilaris said.
“Often it felt as though scholars were the only ones left who still held that profound knowledge, that intense respect for the old ways, for the ancient and arcane, for immense power beyond what we can understand. I understand why we never walked into the waters. We mastered sailing, but never swimming, never holding our breath and sinking into the depths.” She looked at me then, fear laid bare in her eyes. “Killian. I’m frightened.”
I held her then. Not because I needed an excuse, but because there was no other answer. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her tight against my chest, pressing my lips to the top of her head as I breathed in the salt-tang air.
Stop delaying. Jasper complained. He sat on the shore, the bags around him, Ilaris’s armor piled up beside him.
I don’t know where the currents will take us. I can’t promise that we’ll return.
Don’t start being sentimental. Not yet.
I shifted my attention back to Ilaris, wanting to comfort her, but what could I say? The truth was that I didn’t know what lay ahead, and I had nothing to protect her, to protect us.
So I guided her out into the waters. Hand in hand we walked until the waves churned around our calves, then up to our waists, then reached her chest. She stopped and closed her eyes, and the words from the scroll rolled off her tongue.
We’d agreed, ahead of time, that she should speak them before we dove.
I’d never been to the Sunken Kingdom, never wished to spend time in the depths, even though I’d grown up playing with the sea creatures.
I’d ridden on the backs of dolphins, raced seahorses, and had contests with my brothers.
I knew the sea by its surface, sea and sand and salt, of long days fighting against its power.
Out here was majestic, the blue-green waters swirling around us as Ilaris spoke, then funneling into a vortex so quickly I did not have time to react.
It sucked us under, spinning us through a shell of colors, dragging us down into gray, then ink-black depths, where the song of the sea was at its loudest.
A mournful tune rolled out from the depths, a blend of a voice calling, the sound of a flute, and the crash of the waves.
It was haunting and beautiful, and made my chest tight.
Ilaris was beside me, and it was a moment before I realized we weren’t standing anymore, but lying on a soft bed of what felt like stone and sand.
I stood, helping Ilaris to her feet. My clothes were damp, but I could breathe, even though it was clear we were underwater, in some kind of cave with walls as clear as glass. On the other side, coral reefs blazed with color, and colorful fish swam around them.
The music rose and fell, and a shape moved in the darkness beyond.
A shadow rippled toward us with the body of a giant eel.
I hated how vulnerable I felt in that moment, the lack of heat, the damp air around me, the scent of brine and fish filling my senses.
It wasn’t that, but knowing what awaited.
The shape neared. Shifted. Shadow became flesh, and the giant was before us.
It was less of seeing and more of an awareness of an immense, ancient presence.
Numen. He was no prince of the giants. He was the one, the only, the giant who had ruled the sea for as long as time would have him.
I felt his age, the weight of his presence as it surrounded us, reading our minds, baring our souls.
It was impossible to see him fully, a suggestion of a long beard, a hint of a three-pronged weapon, the shiny green scales of armor covering his body.
A pale, silvery light grew, not to display the presence of Numen, but to illuminate the vault. A sunken hall that dwarfed cathedrals, stone walls rising beyond sight. And there, at its center, a gray cornerstone covered in script. The Stone.
Numen knew why we’d come. He revealed it, simply, easily, letting us know he understood. But there would be cost.
Blood for blood. Mortal for immortal. Life for life.
The voice boomed around me, resonating from both within me and outside of me at the same time.
Ilaris stiffened, pressing her lips together, hard.
She, too, felt the weight of this power, the enormity of this being.
He was less like a giant and more akin to a god, he could kill us with the very breath from his nostrils.
“What tribute will you accept?” I asked, keeping my head bowed.
You carry the guilt with you, as though you still carry the door. You know what I require. Your confession.
A great pressure came. I lowered myself to my knees, humbled before the power of the giant, ready to confess in front of the mortal I loved—uncertain what would be gained from it, but certain I had no right to withhold.
I thought of what I’d done. Of how I’d framed it in my mind, again and again, the corruption of my people, the greed of the age, the pressure from other kingdoms, the weight I’d placed on my own shoulders to make something of myself.
I was not only a prince, I was a fire giant with a gift, and what good was a gift if nothing was done with it.
“It was my fault,” I admitted. “I was the leader, the one who gave commands. The project was my idea, I was in charge and there is no one to blame but me. It was my arrogance, my selfishness that brought wrath upon my people. I saw the door, and I knew what was behind it might be unsavory, but I wanted to be the one to open it, to let out the horrors and see what might be done. I regret my hotheadedness, that I didn’t make a different choice.
That my actions caused so much death and devastation. . .” I trailed off.
Those were the words, bold and true. The confession that made me feel lower than any creature that had walked the black pit of the sea.
Admitting it to Numen felt like reliving it, the horror, the brokenness, realizing that the door I’d opened could not be fully shut, and resorting to anger was the only thing that kept me from shattering under the weight of what I’d done.
The truth was simple and terrible. I was the one person with power, who could have chosen differently and given my people a bright future instead of this.
I should have looked away from digging for treasure, for gleaning knowledge and faced my own inadequacy instead of hoping to fill the holes in my soul and give myself purpose with the pursuit of more.
I had wanted the recognition. The glory.
My name praised. My statue standing in the king’s hall.
I had wanted the fame, the glory, the wealth, the power.
I craved it all, and that selfishness had been the tipping point.
A pressure came to rest on my head, light and comforting. The gnawing guilt lifted, and the voice came again. You were chosen, given a second chance. Only you can choose, which choice will you make this time?
I nodded in understanding, my words lost, because the choice was clear. I could repeat the actions of the past, and this time, condemn the mortals to death. Or I could make a better choice, seal the door and give hope to the living.
The intensity of the presence shifted to Ilaris. The pale light shone over the cornerstone, illuminating every carved line. Touch it.
A gentle wave rolled in, licking at her feet as Ilaris walked forward to kneel in front of the stone. With shaking hands she reached out and pressed her palms against it. Liquid pooled at the edges, and a soft glow came from it.
What do you see?
The vision moved in the water like a reflection disturbed by wind. Ilaris’s shoulders drew tight as she watched. Then, her body went soft, bowing into what she’d seen.
“I see myself.” Her voice was barely above a breath. “I see the sacrifice the scroll demands. I know what it takes to seal the gates.” She broke off, a sob caught in the back of her throat.
Blood for blood. Mortal for immortal. Life for life.
As Numen repeated those words, understanding washed over me.
The words of the scroll. The three gifts of the gods.
It had been so clear all along, but my knowledge was shaky, my vision was clouded.
This was why Lady Justice had fought us, why she’d wanted to be the one to give the ultimate sacrifice.
Numen was telling us it was a choice, we had to be willing to make that choice, to sacrifice.
No one was making us, it was our own free will.
Even Prince Castor understood it. I’d been blinded by guilt, by love, and, once again, by my own conceited notion of nobleness.
This wasn’t recognition or honor, it was doing what was right because it needed to be done, even though no one would know, and no one would appreciate it. And that was more powerful than anything else. Already I felt the reward within my soul, even though my heart hurt for Ilaris.
Receive it.
Ilaris took a deep breath, and the stone came free. It was smaller in her hands, easy to lift. She remained bowed over it a moment longer, head low.
As she remained, the music returned. I hadn’t realized it had stopped.
The great serpent of the sea will take you home.
There was a shift, a withdrawal, like a tide going out.
And then the presence of Numen was gone.
I did not hesitate. I crossed to Ilaris and curled my body around hers, her back against my chest, my arms enclosing her as she wept.
Silent tears.
Acceptance.