Page 121 of Under the Iron Sky

The old woman hissed. “Do not talk like one of his sheep. You are not.”

“Then what am I?”

“Either our salvation or our ruin.” The hag rattled her chains, gold eyes glowing in the blackness. “You trapped the sun in a cage, but she does not burn the way you thought she would, does she?”

Even Ikarus’s blood chilled at those words, the cold truth within them. “What did you say?”

Her head fell back, skull cracking against stone as she let out another fit of laughter. “I have seen you with her. The human with golden hair that burns like Helliana. The two of you together—oh, the things you could do. So, so terrible. Or you could remake this and every world.”

Ikarus pushed into the cell. “Right, I’ve heard enough.” He summoned a spare helmet and reached for the chains around her wrist, readying to phase them above and be done with this—

The old woman slammed her hands on either side of his face. Her magic spilled into him, her voice ringing in his head. Two paths lie before you, son of the great seer—one of blood and darkness, the other burns with the heat of the sun. The sun in your cage. The sun who wants to see you bleed.

Images and sounds flashed behind his eyes.

Shattered glass on the floor.

Burned wings.

A hallway filled with blood.

The three suns burning high above.

The human, wearing a rotting green and bronze crown.

Himself, covered head to toe in blood, panting in the middle of the throne room towering above … He couldn’t see.

Then there were two paths. He saw himself standing at the end of one of them, dripping with blood and scars but surrounded by Malakai, Aeris, and Emelda, bodies piled high around them. And the other … Nothing but blaring sunlight and bloodied footprints. He couldn’t see what was on the other side.

Only you can decide which one to lead us down.

He pushed the old woman away, and she laughed as she smacked her head on the stones again. “He lies,” she whispered. It was the last thing she said before Ikarus shoved a helmet onto her head and phased them both above.

It was lighter in Vordell than usual. High above, three yellow circles burned on the other side of the Iron Sky, meaning it likely would’ve been a scorching day had it not been for the cage blocking them out.

He’d materialized near a wooden deck built by the feet of Helliana’s statue in Lumirel. The inner circle were already there, helmets on, as were the large crowd of Crimsons and Irons gathered with their partners and children below.

Ikarus’s helmet was already on. He was glad for the opportunity to hide his face.

His heart was a wild drum in his chest.

You trapped the sun in a cage, but she does not burn the way you thought she would, does she? Try as he might, he couldn’t stop turning those words over in his head. He was sure the old hag had been referring to the human, but—

Ramapheal ascended the wooden steps onto the platform, and Ikarus pushed all thoughts aside. Later.

The Ancient One stood on the edge of the deck, Morana and Ikarus flanking him so he had a Demon on either shoulder. “Breathe deep, my children.”

“Breathe deep,” the crowd echoed back.

“Thank you all for joining me this morning,” he said, “although I wish it was under better circumstances.”

The twelve fairies that’d employed the seer were already on the platform, all of them bloodied and bruised from where the team of Dar’rak and stalkers had hauled them in. Only the old woman Ikarus had brought wasn’t trembling.

“These people,” Ramapheal said, pointing a claw-tipped hand behind him, “have betrayed me. Had they not abandoned their posts when they were most needed, Morana’s team would not have been stretched so thin and likely would’ve spotted the human’s trap before it was too late. We lost many brave lives that cannot be replaced.” At this he gestured to the crowd, where a group of fairies were clutched together, sobbing beneath their helmets. The families of those lost in the temple, most likely.

“The Vordellians are vermin,” Ramapheal continued, his voice getting steadily louder as he drew the crowd’s attention. “Their technology grows more lethal each day, all with the purpose of killing us. Their guns shoot faster, their bullets almost blinding in their insatiable need to kill you and me, to kill all of us—for what crime? For wanting to exist? For wanting to bask in the suns as they have for centuries now? Well, I say no more.”

He gestured to the thirteen shackled traitors behind him. “I do this not because I want to. I do this because I want us to be free of Belvador. I want us to be rid of these helmets whenever we come above—and anyone who prevents us from doing so has no place in our new world.”