Page 73 of Greed of Giants

I watched the line of her jaw, the deliberate steadiness of her breathing, and swallowed against the thickness of my throat. I felt the tremor in her hand, but sensed her determination as she put one foot in front of the other.

And it was I who followed.

37

Ilaris

Iwas both afraid and calm at the same time. Afraid because I didn’t know what came next, and calm because I was on the right path, stepping out in the full confidence that I was doing the right thing. Killian’s warm hand in mine gave me strength. I felt his presence, his love, like an aura as we moved through the ruins. This time not headed for the hole in the ground, the kingdom underneath, the door where the monsters lurked.

We walked toward the volcano.

Smoke billowed out, covering the island in a cloud of darkness. It moved like a living thing, vapors with wings, a growing intensity behind it as we climbed. The ground was a crater of heat and at last we came to a ledge, a natural dais close to the summit, and there before us the glowing red mouth of lava opened like the maw of some dreaming god. The air tasted of iron and sulfur. It coated my tongue and sat heavy in my chest with each breath I drew.

The heat should have been unbearable, but part of merecognized my union with Killian, the ability to withstand fire. I squeezed his hand, my heart thumping like a drum. “This is the place?” I gasped, struck by how the darkness took my voice and squeezed it into a tiny nothingness.

“This is the place,” Killian murmured, his deep voice just as small against the mountain’s indifference.

His bulk shifted as he faced me and snapped his fingers. A glow appeared, a small flame giving us a pool of light. Runes crossed the volcanic rock in symbolic circles. The light gave off just a glimpse of the hallowed walls beyond. Giant stones reached to the heavens, enormous figures frozen in place as though they’d stood watch for a thousand years, guardians carved from the mountain’s own bones.

And beyond them, something moved.

Crawled.

A dark shape that made my stomach drop. I knew already that I would see those eyes, too many eyes crowded onto one body?—

“Look at me,” Killian said, a softness threading through his normally commanding tone. “Only at me.”

Tears brimmed. I blinked them away, my nose burning from sulfur and grief, my body strung tight with the need for release. I wanted to be strong in his presence. I didn’t want him to see me cry because this was a choice. This was sacrifice. I had made my peace with it.

I opened my satchel, took out the gifts before tossing it away. Placing the Stone beneath our feet, I took the Heart in my left hand, the Rod in my right.

Somewhere in the distance came a thrumming, the clopof horse hooves against stone, and that familiar terror wrapped itself around my ribs and squeezed.

“Ilaris,” Killian coaxed.

I lifted my face to his and was undone.

His golden eyes pooled with the edges of hope. Not certainty, not command, but hope, bare and unguarded as I had never seen in him. It was breathtaking. I wanted to give him more of it, more time, more life, more of every ordinary thing he’d been denied.

I stepped closer.

He cupped my face with both hands, his palms warmer than any hearth fire, and my body remembered all of it, his heat, his breath against my temple, the press of his lips against my skin, burning yet not burning, a different kind of fire entirely. He was beautiful in the way that terrible, true things are beautiful, and it felt like a grief to look at him and know.

“I wanted to give you more,” I lamented. “More time, more life, more everything.”

The crease between his brows softened. “We had time,” he explained. “It was short, yes, but perhaps that was always the design. We are the catalyst for the second chance, for the rebirth of all that is new. Some secrets are laid to rest and buried because they are not meant to see the light of day. Some evils are too dark and should not be released until the world is ready to end. We glimpsed what the ending would look like. But it is not time for the world to cease. Our time, though, is over. Do not weep. You only cry because this is the only life you’ve known, but there is eternal rest on the other side.”

The other side. I thought of my grandmother’s bonesthen, and I realized I didn’t have to worry, not like she did. My actions may have been chaotic, reckless even, but in the end there was redemption. Hope.

“Is that where you were?” I asked. “Enjoying eternal rest when I woke you?”

His arm circled my waist, drawing me against him. I leaned into his embrace, taking deep breaths to calm my fear.

“No,” he said. “I was suffering. But you changed that. You gave me a second chance.” He pressed his lips to the crown of my head. “Your tears are for the past and also for the future, what might or might not happen. But you’re with me, right here and now in the present. That’s all that matters. We made a choice, and we will stand by it. Our sacrifice will give many others the second chance I was given.”

“Will it hurt?” I whispered.

“All transformation requires pain, but that, too, will pass. Are you ready?”