Page 51 of Under the Iron Sky

Each of these statues held one similar to this, and the Lumination festival always began with extinguishing the fires that burned in each all year long. Like Ikarus had said, this statue was one of three: Solano on the edge of Enzure, the largest fishing port on Vordell in the southeast, with her long flowing skirts and bangles of stars around her wrists, then. Apollas in the West, slightly smaller than her twin but burning no less brightly, and finally, the largest of the three suns, Helliana, in the heart of Lumirel.

All three statues had burning suns in place of a head, but unlike her daughters, the smooth white marble Helliana had been sculpted to have cracks of pure gold running down her lithe body, and while Solano held a flaming sword in one hand and Apollas a deadly flail, Helliana’s free hand was empty.

Soraya stood beside her father at the dish’s edge, the ghost he’d never gotten to see, and tried to absorb his face. She was almost as tall as him now. It hurt to see so little of herself there—not the features, she did resemble him a little—but in the smile lines around his eyes and mouth. Would she ever have those?

She thought about him a lot, daily, if she was being honest with herself, but each year she found it harder to recall certain features of his face, the exact brown of his eyes, where the crow’s feet were just starting to crease his eyes, like a statue that’d been left outside for decades and the elements had slowly chipped away at his features.

Not now though. In here, she could see every blemish and scar and—Gods, she missed him. Seeing him there, beaming at her younger version like she was Helliana herself, made her chest feel as though it was trapped in a vice that was steadily being cranked tighter and tighter.

Only Ikarus stepping closer could break that connection. Her father wasn’t really here, she had to remind herself. Ikarus couldn’t actually hurt him, but she moved nonetheless. Still placed herself between the two of them like a shield. She stared up at Ikarus’s face, daring him. Real or not, if he so much as raised a hand toward her father, she’d cut it off and slap him with it.

It didn’t come to that, and Ikarus stepped aside just as her father set her younger version down.

This year’s ashes had already been cleared, replaced by hundreds and hundreds of tiny pieces of folded parchment.

“What are those?” Ikarus asked.

Soraya’s throat was hoarse when she answered, “Fears. Ailments. Heartbreaks. Wishes. Whatever you wanted to happen or leave behind that year.” She didn’t know why she was telling him this. Told herself that it didn’t really matter if he knew or not.

The tradition had practically died anyway. They’d tried to keep it alive at first, but it’d grown smaller each year. They’d still lit the three small replica statues last year, what had once stretched high into the sky now easily fitting in the palm of a hand, but it was hard to feel thankful for anything with so many bodies piling so high around them.

“These statues were a tourist trap before,” she continued, still watching her father, “but the last few days of the year were always the busiest. People queued for hours just to stand right here so they could throw a scrap of paper onto the pile. The fires would be relit at midnight on the last day of the Lumination festival, and all those letters would be swept away so we could start the new year fresh.”

Soraya used to watch from the palace balcony every year, huddled in a blanket in her father’s arms, gazing at the ashes rising high in the sky and wondering what secrets were floating away.

“And what did you wish for?” Ikarus asked as Soraya’s younger self threw her piece of parchment onto the pile with a grin.

“For things to stay exactly as they were. Always.” She shook her head, banishing the tears that threatened to spill over as her father added his own wish, then petted the top of Bertok’s head, smiling. He was always smiling.

“You know this is useless,” Soraya said after a long moment. “This doesn’t tell you anything about our armies.” She would not let Ikarus see her break. Not now. Not ever.

“All that effort,” she said, forcing as much venom into her words as possible, “and this is all you got. You must be so disappointed.”

Ikarus took a step toward her, intending to see her cower away from him no doubt, but Soraya rooted herself in the spot.

“On the contrary,” he said, his voice almost a low purr, “this tells me everything I need to know. Your mind isn’t as impenetrable as you think it is—and it’s only a matter of time before you let something important slip.”

Ikarus held her glare as the memory faded around them, his eyes as gray and lifeless as ever.

Burning fucking suns, she hated him. Didn’t think it was possible to hate anyone as much as she did the creature standing right in front of her. She wanted him dead. Wanted to hold his head between her hands and squeeze and squeeze until his skull cracked.

She held his stare, knowing every hit of hate and contempt that simmered in his expression was reflected right back at him.

Until they were back in the dungeon in his castle.

Her head throbbed with pain.

It was like this after every session. Ikarus’s powers would pull away, but remnants remained, like being stabbed in either temple with a serrated blade that kept twisting and twisting until she collapsed onto her hands and knees, reduced to a panting, pathetic mess on the floor until it eventually subsided.

The wave finally passed enough for Soraya to open her eyes. Ikarus was kneeling in front of her, and she was too weak to push him away when a cold hand cupped her chin and tilted her head back.

He stared into her eyes with an intensity like being thrown into a burning fire. He tilted her head to the right, then the left, his gaze never faltering.

What the hell was he looking for? Fear? Pain? Checking to make sure his magic hadn’t turned her mind to mulch? Whatever it was, he clearly wasn’t finding it.

Soraya yanked out of his grip the moment her strength returned. “Touch me again and I’ll snap your fingers right off.”

Ikarus’s gaze lingered for a moment longer, then he clenched his jaw and vanished into nothing.