“I know you must be troubled by this news,” said Illindria. “But you must know that not every god supported your murders. Myself among them. I tried to convince the pantheon of your promise as a true force of nature, that there were ways to hone your skills and fortify your mind. But these ways were...darker, let’s say. So the pantheon refused.”
“Darker?” Ion asked.
“But effective,” said Illindria, smiling. “And it’s not too late, Ion. There are ways to overcome the voice of Thornikus without sacrificing the grand power he brings. Ways I can teach you. And with the extra help of this beautiful, beautiful jaw...and the secret it keeps.”
Illindria ran her fingers wistfully over Ion’s jaw. Secret? he wondered.
“And what part does Lady Borea’s massacre play in all of this?” Ion asked.
But Illindria furrowed her brow, her eyes suddenly suspicious. “Massacre? Lady Helia, might you explain what this boy is talking about?”
Illindria turned with a scolding look, but Helia’s hand had wrapped around the goddess’s red hair and forcefully pulled her to her feet. The wisps of gold armor around Helia’s hand receded like wilting vines, exposing her sickeningly long fingers to the air as she wrapped them around Illindria’s neck. Before Ion could even process the turn of events, Solara roared, and in seconds, the Hall was flooded with hissing locusts, pelting Ion from all sides. The swarm was so thick he couldn’t see his own feet. A hand pulled him back by the hair, then cold, sharp steel pressed against his neck.
The locusts churned and swirled for only a second more before sweeping behind Ion and melting into Solara.
“Let my mother go!” she screamed at Helia, pressing the blade hard against Ion’s skin. “Let her go, or I’ll kill him!”
Lady Helia cackled. “Do it,” she said, nearly choking Illindria in her grasp. “You’ll save me the trouble of having to kill him in a few years. Go ahead—I’ll even slow time so I can watch it in slow motion.”
Ion flared his nose. I’m that disposable? he thought. Solara’s blade dug deeper, but something stopped her from doing the deed.
“What?” Lady Helia teased. “Suddenly you’re not so brave? Not so much like your mother, after all? I must admit, you’re more foolish than she ever was. So many mistakes you’ve already made, Solara—like freeing her for me. You delivered her to the Hands of Death itself.”
“Why?” Solara growled. “I demand to know why you betray us!”
“You’re more trouble than you’re worth now,” said Lady Helia, echoing Borea’s words from a day ago. “And since it was only a matter of time before the other Illyrians discovered our betrayal, Lady Borea and I had no option but to put an end to our communication.”
“By killing us?” Solara snapped.
“By reeling you onto Illyria to kill you,” said Helia. “With the humans having infused their weapons with god-killing magic, there was no way we could risk going near that forsaken city of Sol you took shelter in. So Lady Borea and I came up with a plan. A single letter sent with a single message: come to Illyria, destroy the Moon Throne, and free your mother.”
“How could you risk a Throne like that?” Ion croaked, Solara quickly adding pressure to his throat.
“Lady Borea and I have long thought the Moon Throne to be overrated. Had it been solely our choice, we would’ve never called for a new Hand. But the idea further enticed the Twins to Illyria, and without the blood of Illindria’s descendant or from you, Ion, Illindria could’ve never been freed.” Lady Helia looked hungrily down at the Illyrian in her grasp. The skin of Illindria’s neck grayed, cracked, and then drifted away like ash. “A Triumvirate would’ve never worked, Aunty, and you know it. So to brush our foolish plans under the rug, you’ll all be killed tonight—Illindria first, then you, Solara. And the Sky Guardian’s meddling has sealed his fate, too.”
The decay crept slowly down Illindria’s chest and over her jaw. Solara dug the blade into Ion’s neck, her hand shaking with uncertainty.
“This is what she did to you thirteen years ago, Ion,” Illindria finally said. “Will you let her kill you again after she’s done with me?”
The gray crept up to Illindria’s lips and over her cheeks. A hundred thoughts came to Ion, so quick and so powerful and so urgent. The Illyrians had sent the Callers to war. They put me in chains. Put the cyclops in chains. They rained destruction upon the Outerworld humans: their cities, their hopes, their lives. The Illyrians were murderers. My murderers. They were always planning. And somehow Ion constantly found himself in the middle of them—forced to sway with whatever direction their schemes would take him.
Well now it’s my turn.
The Hall filled with the screams of Lady Helia, who’d dropped to the floor with her hands over her ears.
“It’s in my ear!” she shrieked. “The pain! The pain! Make it stop! Please, make it stop!”
Solara released Ion from her grip and came to Illindria’s aid, helping her to feet. Both of them turned, watching in confusion as the tallest Illyrian curled up on the floor, writhing in agony. Ion stepped forward then. His fists tight at his side, eyes unblinking, as he continued to expand and contract the air pressure in Lady Helia’s inner ear.
The idea had just come to him, a sudden flash, bright as it was brilliant. He wasn’t sure how he was doing it exactly, given the move’s complexity and his Class level. But he was certain of one thing: this was him taking back control.
Lady Helia let out one final scream, falling into unconsciousness there on the floor of the Hall. Ion turned, glancing at the decayed skin of Illindria’s neck before flicking up to her astonished gaze.
“You saved me,” she said in awe.
“I did,” Ion said calmly. “I know I’m unsafe. Unstable. All of it made worse by my jaw. If I stay here, my friends and family—they’re destined for destruction. Death. And at my hands. I want you to train me, Illindria. Teach me what the pantheon refused to.”
Illindria stepped forward, her head cocked curiously at him. “You’d leave just like that?” she asked. “What of your father? Your sister?”
“I can leave them knowing they’ll be away from me.”
The cracked, grayed flesh of her lips pulled into a smile. “No worries, young Ion. We will make you into the god you were destined to be.”
Illindria offered her hand to Solara, and the girl accepted. Then, she knelt to Ion and offered her other hand to him.
“Take it,” she said. “And it’s done.”
“Ion, no!” came a scream that could only belong to Oceanus.
There they were—Oceanus, Theo, and Lillian—all standing beneath the gates of the Hall, frozen with shock. Ion said nothing as he gazed into his fellow Guardians’ eyes. He knew what must be done. He took Illindria’s hand, and vines exploded out of the stone floor beneath him, snaking up his ankles, legs, chest, and neck.
The vines slithered over his face, and he closed his eyes.
Don’t worry, Oceanus, he thought. This time I’ll do right. This time...I have a plan.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Nikolas Lee was born in Evansville, Indiana, moved with his family to Las Vegas, Nevada, when he was eleven, moved back to Indiana when he was fourteen, then moved back to Las Vegas when he was sixteen. No, neither he, nor his family are under the witness protection program. Though that would be much cooler than the real reason.
He currently resides in Irvine, California, where he’s currently hard at work on the third installment in the Sky Guardian Chronicles, The Iron-Jawed Boy and the Siege of Sol.
Nikolas Lee, The Iron-Jawed Boy and the Hand of the Moon
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