Page 43 of Greed of Giants

“Another insult from your lips, I should not be surprised. I believe your mortal companion carries a scroll. Haven’t you read it?”

A bead of unease went through me. I was missing something, and the unexpected complexity was a blow. Maren had no reason to lie to me. Lady Justice was her other title, and she came with truth.

“I haven’t read it,” I said shortly. “But I assume thismeans you will let me and my companion walk out of here.”

“No. I came to free your companion and seal you away.”

“She is bound to me.”

“An unfortunate complication.”

The vines hissed and leaped at me. Fire flared across my skin.Let the inferno come. Let them all burn.I released balls of fire, hurling them toward Maren, not caring what I burned.

Yet somewhere, in the back of my mind, I heard a voice shouting words. Words I recognized, once again, in that elder tongue.

21

Ilaris

The vines dragged me away from Killian, swallowing me like a giant green mouth closing over prey, sucking in all the air and leaving me with nothing. I must have passed out, for I woke to slow, shallow breaths. The vines had retreated, coiled now on a distant, carved platform, where Killian argued with a figure in green and blue. His hands moved aggressively, and fire licked at the edges of the pavilion.

I pushed myself upright, searching for a path that would lead me back to him. A clearing opened around me, hemmed by cliffs that surged skyward, their faces carved into giant visages—mouths agape, hands raised in supplication or warning. Moss clung to the stone like draped jewelry, emerald and thick. The sky was clear, fluffy white clouds within reach. It reminded me of those clear, sunny days when Mother would take me walking in the vegetable fields. We’d lie out on the warm dirt, and she’d point out the shapes of the clouds, a fluffy lamb, a three-legged cow,or a mysterious tower. Perhaps that was when I first started falling in love with legends, with stories of the past.

Now, I stood in one.

Water poured from one of those open giant mouths, a waterfall crashing into a pool far below.

The Verdant Maw.

I still had my satchel, but Jasper was gone, unless just this once he preferred Killian’s company to mine. Or the vines were still holding him.

Drumming my fingers against my thigh, I turned in a slow circle. The carved faces stared down, patient as mountains, reminding me of my quest. I was here to wake another sleeping giant. The scroll in my bag pulled at my attention, a weight I’d tried to ignore since I’d awakened Killian. It had demanded a blood oath, and been responsible for my knowledge about the Unmaking. I did not want to know what relentless evil might lie here as well.

Regardless, I forced myself to draw it out, my hands trembling.

The parchment unrolled stiffly, its surface just as I remembered. That strange sensation washed over me again, the sense of stepping outside my own skin, watching from a distance. My mouth opened, and words poured out.

When I finished, sharp wind whipped across the clearing. Mist from the waterfall struck my face, tasting of mineral-rich stone and furry moss. I spat, grimacing, as the ground shuddered beneath me. Not the bone-jarring quake of Killian’s awakening, but a subtler shift. A resettling.

Stone groaned. Not the scrape of rock on rock but a sound with timbre. With throat. One of the cliff faces detached itself, rising with slow inevitability. I tilted myhead back, watching as the giant unfolded. He was twice my height and covered in moss and vines that clung like living skin. His stone never shattered. No transformation into flesh, yet he breathed and moved.

He blinked down at me with gray eyes hidden beneath thick brows, his face ancient, lined as old oak bark. A mossy beard trailed to his chest. His rounded shoulders hunched forward, arms hanging low, and when he yawned, the sound rumbled through the clearing like distant thunder. “Who dares wake me?”

His voice vibrated in my chest, rough as gravel dragged over slate.

“I’m Ilaris, the Scholar,” I announced.

“The Scholar.” He repeated the title slowly, tasting it. “Welcome to the Verdant Maw. The domain of. . .” His eyes drifted closed.

I waited, using the silence to peek over my shoulder. Killian and the woman in blue still fought on the platform, fire spreading like a ring around them. The flames felt wrong here, disrespectful to the lush wetness of this place. My chest tightened. I wanted to preserve it while Killian was quick to unleash destruction when the opportunity presented itself.

“It’s happened, hasn’t it?” the giant said.

I turned back. His eyes were open again, fixed on me, but because of his stone expression, impossible to decipher.

“The Great Sundering?” I asked.

He nodded, his entire body bowing under the weight of his stone head. “The end of my people. The end of an age.”