Lowering myself, I say, “I’m going to start with this foot.” I touch his bare ankle, finding the skin under his bindings so callused and tough that I wonder if he’ll even feel the burn through the thousands of years of thick, hard skin he’s built up. “Ready?”
I don’t wait for his answer but call power to my fingertips and try to control the surge of lightning as I grip the shackle with both hands and pull. The metal glows red-hot and grows malleable. I rip it apart, freeing Prometheus’s foot. His skin does blister from the heat, and I’m sorry for it, but he doesn’t say a word. As for me, I feel no pain or burn.
Gently, I guide his big foot onto the peg-like anchor fixing the chain to the cliff. “Put your weight here,” I tell him.
Beating my wings to hover steadily, I free his other foot. Slowly, Prometheus bends his knee enough to balance his weight atop the chain’s anchor without my help. I hear his bones creak as he moves, and then he groans. He’s standing for the first time in millennia. The angle on his arms shifts, and he groans louder still, probably as much in pain as relief. Like me, he doesn’t appear to have changed from his original state in any way besides forming the calluses under his bindings. His body is strong and hard, beautifully sculpted and muscled—and likely as heavy as an ox. His mind, though… I have a feeling it’s not nearly as intact.
A gentle push on the air brings me to eye level with his right wrist. I melt the shackle off, leaving more burns in exchange for his freedom. I press the now-dangling chain into Prometheus’s trembling hand. “Hold this for balance. Don’t let go.”
I look him hard in the eyes, trying to get him to focus on me and maybe stop shaking. He’s going to rattle us both off the cliff.
“I need your help,” I say. “It’s very important. Prometheus?”
He blinks, glances away from me to look at his giant hand gripping the chain, and then brings a steadier gaze back to my face.
“I don’t think I can hold you up.” Actually, I know I can’t, but there’s a difference between outright lying and not being abysmal. “Youneed to send us into that light. You see it, don’t you?”
His eyes jerk to a spot beyond my shoulder and then shift down. He nods, another quick dip of his chin.
“After I free this hand,yougrab me, andyoupush us off the cliff. You push us right into that light.” The muscles in his legs are enough to make three times the leap I ever could. I just hope they’re not too stiff to work. “I’ll do my best to fly and guide us, but we’re going to fall. You understand that, right?”
“Fly,” he whispers, and my heart clenches so hard it stops.
I nod. “Yes. Fly.”Gods, I hope so, anyway.“Flip us so that I’m on top.”
He nods again, understanding that he needs to twist us in the air, or we’ll end up performing an experiment in upside-down wing use that’s sure to end poorly.
“What…about…on the…other side?” Prometheus asks haltingly.
Emotion rips through my chest and steals my breath. It’s the first time he’s said anything butfly, and to me, his rusty voice is sweeter than a song.
“I’m going to think really hard about arriving down low,” I answer. “And hope for the best.” Because really, what else can I do?
His eyes search mine, and for the first time, I notice their color—a rich hazel that seems to mix every palette of the earth and sky. Back to a whisper, he says, “Thank you.”
I smile, even though this huge, generous, damaged male tears me up inside. “Don’t thank me yet. We still might fall to our deaths.”
He frowns, and his hand twitches like he wants to release his grip on the chain and reach for me. He doesn’t. “Don’t say that, firebird. I would let go of you first.”
And then I would fly. Oh Gods damn it, I’m going to cry. Prometheus—ever selfless, willing to sacrifice his eternity for the comfort of man.
I swallow, my throat thick. Well, his punishment is over. Today, I make sure his life begins again.
“Don’t you dare let go,” I say fiercely, my voice unsteady and low. “We’ll make it out. Together.”
He doesn’t deny or confirm. He doesn’t even give me that bumpy jerk of his chin.
“Ready?” I ask, taking hold of the final chain and letting my hands begin to heat. I don’t wait for an answer any more than I did the first time. I melt the metal until I can pry it apart, and Prometheus grabs the loose chain, steadying himself.
We’re not touching yet, but I see and feel him gathering himself before me, getting lower and winding up tight so that he can spring off his footholds in one sudden burst.
I take a deep breath. Here goes everything. “Go!” I shout.
With a roar, Prometheus lets go of the shackles that have bound him for lifetimes and throws his arms around my waist. At the same time, he uses his muscular legs to propel us outward and send us both flying out over the valley. He heaves his great weight to one side, and we spin in the air so that I’m on top.
“Umph!” My whole body goes vertical, with Prometheus dangling from his crushing grip. His colossal weight drags us both down fast, but he jumped far enough out that we’re almost to the door. I beat my wings, straining feverishly, and somehow bring us closer to the fissure between Tartarus and Thalyria. Gritting my teeth, I flap hard and push. I’ll get us there. I swear to the Gods, I will.
We plummet toward the bottom of the bright line in the sky, and I grip Prometheus’s shoulders so hard I’ll leave marks. There’s no way I’m letting him go. I have more lightning, but every instinct in me screams that this first blast I shot into the gray is my one and only door. That power was a one-time deal—my reward. The gate will close behind me, and I won’t have that ability anymore. If we fall too far, I can fly back up here, even from the valley floor, but I could never lift my passenger again. This is Prometheus’s only chance.
