by Lee, Nikolas
“Get away from the boy, K’thas!”
Ion looked down the road, and when he saw Vinya descending upon the Jovian Fields in a chariot of antlers, he rose to his feet with hope. She held the Moon Bow with perfect form, another arrow drawn back on its cord.
“Nooo!” Illindria screamed.
As the chariot and its parade of stags clattered across the main road, the tip of Vinya’s silver arrow began glowing a bright white. She loosed the arrow, and K’thas screamed when the arrow pierced his right shoulder. The arrow detonated, sending out a shockwave of silver light, launching K’thas into the gates and throwing everyone else to their backs.
“I want all of you against the gates!” Vinya demanded, approaching with another arrow drawn.
Ion had never been happier to hear such an angry tone. He and the other Guardians—minus Solara and Spike—gathered at her side, and he could feel her energy, her power, course through the air and empower him with confidence.
K’thas, Illindria, and her children cautiously rose to their feet and begrudgingly proceeded to the gate. They were smart—all it would take to stop one of their godly hearts from beating was a single arrow from Vinya.
“Foolish girl,” Illindria sniped. “We’re not afraid of your little arrows.”
“Yet there you are, standing in a line against the gates, just as I said,” Vinya returned. “You’ve seen my little arrows pierce the flesh of gods before, Aunty. And you will see it happen again if you refuse my orders. Father,”—she glanced over at Othum on his knees—“get to your feet and return to your people.”
The Skylord nodded and stood, withered and shaken.
When he reached the safety behind the Guardians, Vinya went on, “I must say, Aunty, you’re quite skilled at feigning goodness. Though I figured you were behind my exiling, what with you constantly in Father’s ear.”
“No hard feelings,” Illindria said sweetly, spreading her hands, “but you had to go once we discovered how you were protecting Ion from K’thas’s reach.”
“And I believe it’s now your time to go,” said Vinya. “Let’s get some nice shackles around those wrists of yours, and hopefully we can find some matching chains.”
“Oh, they don’t have to match,” Solara said. “Because we won’t be wearing them.”
She took a step forward.
“Remain where you are!” Vinya snapped, her drawn arrow pointed at Solara. “Or by my will, little girl, these fields will shine with blood.”
“Funny,” Solara said sweetly. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
Solara stiffened her fingers at her side, and before anyone could act, a single vine tore out of the earth behind Vinya. Dirt flew through the air, and Vinya didn’t have time to react. The strike had been too quick. Her Moon Bow fell to the floor, and her mouth fell open in disbelief. Then the thorn atop the vine Solara had summoned gave a jolt...and dislodged itself from Vinya’s back.
Ion screamed for what seemed like five minutes, until tears had smeared his face and rolled down his neck.
The vine slowly withered back into the hole it had come from, and everyone—even K’thas and Illindria—watched with opens mouths, as Vinya collapsed to her knees, and then to her stomach. Ion raced over with tears fogging his vision.
He turned her over, kneeling at her side and lifting her head. “Vinya!” he shouted.
A smile worked tiredly at the ends of Vinya’s lips. “Ion,” she said, her voice already weak.
“Just wait a moment, Vinya, I’m going to get a healer and—”
Vinya shook her head. “No,” she said. “It isn’t necessary, my dear.” She smiled and graced his cheek with her cold hand. “You’ve become such a beautiful person, Ion. I cannot apologize more for what this world has done to you.”
“Stop,” Ion pleaded, ignoring the icy pain in his jaw. “None of this has to be said. We’ll find a healer and—”
Vinya shook her head. “No, my dear. My journey…it nears its end. Yours, however...” She placed her hand on the pocket of Ion’s tunic, where it sat heavy with the chain of a necklace. “Your journey is just beginning. Before I say goodbye, I must let you know”—she hissed with pain—“that I always loved you more than you knew. And I will continue to love you in the world beyond this one.”
“Vinya…please...s-stop.”
Ion felt the warmth fade from Vinya’s skin, replaced by a cold as bitter as winter. She closed her eyes with a smile on her face, and when he felt her lungs rise and fall for the last time, he held his head low…and cried.
“I…love you, too,” he whispered, quiet enough so that only a passing spirit could hear.
The light of the moon grew heavy over the fields, until everyone was forced to shield their eyes. Ion felt Vinya lift from his arms and she was gone.
But when the moonlight faded, and Ion finally opened his eyes, the moon was nowhere to be seen. It had faded into blackness until there was only a faint glimmer of stars in the night sky. Now the only evidence to suggest Ion was still in the fields was the glinting of his enemies’ eyes in the distance, arranged in a row beneath what he knew to be the Acropolis gates.
“What’s going on?” Spike shouted.
“I can’t see anything!” Theo whimpered.
“The Throne of the Moon is now empty,” came Lillian’s voice. “Without Vinya, there is no moon.”
Ion stood, rising into the blackness with his eyes locked on the ones glinting in the distance. Rage, sorrow, and frustration all welled within him. He wasn’t sure why, but he gripped the Omnus Staff tight, and realized the rush of heat to his jaw was good. Brothers reunited. He breathed in deep, and with each exhale, a wave of clouds heaved out of the pores in his skin.
Static lifted the airs on his arms, and Oceanus’s voice carried through the darkness. “I-Ion...what’re you doing?”
Ion could feel his clouds reaching across the Fields, passing through the trees and rising high into the sky. He could feel the power. The anger. The need for revenge.
Sparks of green lightning flashed through the clouds, etching out their rolling walls and the line of enemies in the distance. Another flash, and Ion could see Oceanus and Lillian. Another bolt, and he saw Spike cowering beside his mother, K’thas backing away to the gates. Bolt after bolt flew through the clouds, igniting the fields in light and drawing out exactly where Ion needed to aim.
“Don’t be an idiot, Caller,” Solara sneered. “You’ve already made so many mistakes. Don’t make another.”
Ion could feel his pupils expanding and consuming his eyes. But this time wasn’t going to be like the last. The Netherblood in him was boiling over, wanting to take over. But his jaw, the staff...somehow they were helping him stay in control.
Maybe his jaw did have a use after all.
“You have taken too much,” Ion spoke through gritted teeth. “Much that was never yours to take.” Lightning streamed off the corners of his eyes and danced through the clouds around him. “You have taken the life of an Illyrian, and as a Guardian I will only take a life as repayment.”
Ion’s feet went numb for only a moment, and the next, lightning cracked out of the bottom of his sandals and he was rocketed through the air. The clouds exploded behind him, rushing out in his wake as he grabbed hold of Solara’s throat. The two crashed through the stone of the Acropolis gates, while the battle resumed on the Fields.
Lightning clashed everywhere, thunder ruptured the air, and the clouds stretched out in every direction.
“You monster!” Ion shouted, pinning Solara to the stone road outside the gates. “You killed her! You killed Vinya!”
He reared his hand into the air, lightning igniting in his palm. But Solara looked up at him with an unwavering smile. A monstrous hand tore him off of her and tossed him across the road. Lightning hissed overhead, outlining K’thas as he stood beside Solara.
A whip of water chucked Spike out of the Jovian Fields and he landed with a painful thud beside Solara. But whe
n Oceanus came running out to the road, K’thas turned around, and with a sweep of his arm, launched Oceanus back into the Fields.
Ion gritted his teeth, looked to the clouds above, and when he aimed the Omnus Staff at K’thas, a bolt of lightning tore down from the sky and ripped through the god’s right arm. K’thas screamed and Ion had to shield his ears. Spirits flooded out of the gash in K’thas’s arm before the arm itself crumbled from his shoulder like brittle stone. An explosion rocked the Acropolis, and Illindria came running out of the Fields, bits of her dress burning, and knelt beside K’thas as he continued to scream. She looked to Ion with vengeful eyes, but drew her fingers to her mouth and only whistled.
A chariot of gold sped through the air and descended upon the road. The white, winged rams that pulled it bleated as the storm raged above. In seconds, Illindria had ushered Solara and a groaning K’thas onto the chariot, with Spike hopping in soon after.
As Ion stood and geared up for another bolt of lightning, Illindria took the reins of the chariot, and snapped, “We’ll be meeting again, filthy Caller. And when we do, it shall be you crying on your knees.”
Oceanus appeared at Ion’s side, and began firing sickles of ice out the tops of her hands. They pierced the walls of the chariot before finally piercing Spike’s leg and multiple spots on K’thas’s back. They both screamed, and Illindria gave the reins a whip. As the chariot went screaming off into the night sky, and Theo and Lillian came running out of the Jovian Fields—both black with scorch marks—Ion plucked the shimmering, silver necklace out of his pocket, and with a bolt of electricity powering his throw, launched the relic at the escaping chariot.
Illindria had just allowed herself a smile when the emerald of the necklace cracked against the back of her head. Her body twisted, melted, and collapsed all at once into the heart of the shimmering jewel. Spike and Solara screamed. K’thas reached for the jewel on the floor, but before his one and only hand could close around it, Ion opened his hand and the relic whipped off the chariot floor and returned to Ion’s grasp.
The chariot disappeared, far from the light of the thunderstorm now raging above the Acropolis. Ion gazed into the green of the emerald and the enraged goddess frozen within.
This will do. For now.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
THE BEGINNING
Ionikus turned the necklace over in his hand and walked to the gash he’d made in the Acropolis walls. The clouds dissipated and the light of the stars did their best to illuminate the night. Ion crossed the threshold into the Jovian Fields and his jaw went numb at the sad sight of Othum kneeling where Vinya had last lain.
Oceanus came running up to Ion and flung her arms around his neck. “I can’t believe it,” she sobbed. “I can’t believe Vinya’s gone.”
Theo came next, and though he’d never known Vinya, he cried just as miserably as Oceanus when he hugged Ion’s waist. Othum was staring down at his lap, his wrists still bound behind his back by the power-sapping god cuffs. Ion directed a charge of electricity out the end of the Omnus Staff and into the cuffs, and with a clink, Othum was free.
Oceanus assisted the Illyrian to his feet, though he was still silent as the night.
“It’s going to be all right, Skylord,” Oceanus whispered. “Vinya won’t ever be forgotten.”
“Yes,” said Othum. “She won’t. I’ll make sure of it.”
Ion gathered his breath and looked to his teammates, and asked, “Can I get some privacy with Othum? Just for a little bit.”
Oceanus nodded and looked more understanding than ever before. “We’ll check on the coliseum. Take all the time you need.”
Theo hugged Ion, and Lillian gave a stiff nod. After the team departed, the Jovian Fields were empty, save Ion and Othum.
A tear rolled down the Illyrian’s wrinkly cheek, twinkling under the starlight. Ion opened his mouth to speak, to apologize for everything, but Othum spoke first. “The night Vinya was born, the moon shined so bright you would have thought the sun, too, had risen to see her. She was the most beautiful little baby with the brightest smile even without teeth.”
Ion looked down at the necklace in his hand and the goddess frozen within. “She knew I’d need this relic. I...I think she knew about all of this. She even warned me about K’thas.”
“Vinya knew much,” said Othum. “She always did.”
“I...I’m sorry for taking the Omnus Staff,” Ion said, fighting back more stupid tears. “And your key. I’m sorry for everything.”
Othum looked up from the earth and said, “Your apology is accepted, young Ion. But only if you accept mine. K’thas should have been somewhere safer, where his reach could’ve been contained. But Illindria fooled me, as K’thas fooled you. And make no mistake about it, they will both be punished for doing so. Until I come up with a proper judgment for Illindria, I want you to keep that necklace close to you.”
Ion nodded and slipped the necklace, his mother’s precious heirloom, around his neck.
“And as for Solara,” said Othum, his hands balled into the mightiest fists, “she better pray I never find her.”
Ion looked up to the skies. “Are we ever going to get the moon back?”
“The Throne of the Moon will first need to be filled,” said Othum. “Though whoever could be brave and kind-hearted enough to replace a goddess like Vinya, I’m unsure at the moment. But in time, the moon will shine again.”
Ion realized how warm his jaw felt now, and he looked down at the Omnus Staff in his hands. Its heartbeat throbbed in his palms. Ba-bump. Ba-bump.
Othum placed his hand on Ion’s shoulder, enveloping it in his giant, godly fingers. “Strange business, Connections Seals,” he said, and Ion’s eyes definitely grew to bush baby size.
“W-what? How do you—”
“I’d know that triangle of eyes anywhere,” Othum said, glancing down at Ion’s chin. “I’ve had my Connection Seal since birth.” His hand fell upon the giant diamond in his chest, and Ion stared into the mesmerizing gem. “Diamonds were the Seal of my father, Gromil, a god of Old, and I’ve passed the same Connection Seal down to Esereez and his brothers. Iron and a triangle of eyes, however, has always been the Seal of Omnus, a Triplet.”
“Omnus was a part of the Triplets?”
Othum nodded.
“W-what are Connection Seals even for?”
“The gods of Old used Connection Seals to help control their powers, and they hold the same purpose to this day,” said Othum. “Do you know how much focus it takes to mold the weather of this earth? Without my Seal, the skies of this world would be nearly uncontrollable. It appears, however,”—Othum eyed the Staff of Omnus—“your Connection Seal is not made up of just one item, but two. Without that staff, your jaw is just a hunk of metal attached to your skin. And without that jaw, the staff is as useless as it was before. Why do you think we stowed it away in a book to be forgotten?”
Ion shook his head. “How did my father even get a Seal to begin with?”
“Ahhh, alas, we’ve arrived at a question I cannot answer,” said Othum. “However, I believe I know a man who could.” Othum smiled, and Ion’s heart swelled.
“Ion!” Oceanus shouted.
Ionikus turned, and when he found Oceanus beaming as she approached with a freckled, bearded, beady-eyed man, Ion realized he should’ve trusted Othum from the beginning.
“Father!” Ion cried, crashing into the man and wrapping his arms around him. Ion squeezed as tight as he could, unable to hold back those stupid tears.
Father’s hands fell upon Ion’s back, and when Ion looked up, Father was crying, too. “I’ve missed you, my son,” he said, strong even through tears.
“I can’t believe this!” Ion said, refusing to let go.
“I told you Othum would free him,” Oceanus said.
Ion looked to Othum. The Illyrian was smiling still.
“Thank you,” said Ion. “I-I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”
“I am a god of my word,
Ion,” said Othum, giving a nod. “I wanted to surprise you when you arrived in the coliseum for graduation ceremony—that’s why I was dismissive after the CVEs.”
Ion’s father pulled him away and knelt before him. His small eyes found Ion’s jaw in a sad, concerned sort of way. “I can’t apologize more for what I’ve done to you, little Ion.”
“D-do you know how to get rid of it?” Ion asked, his hand on his jaw, so very hopeful for a “yes.”
But Father shook his head. “I found the metal in my shop at the Anvil. This voice...it came to me. It told me to place the metal on your jaw, and that it would attach on its own. It said something bad was coming, and only the jaw could save you from it. So I did as commanded.”
Ion’s jaw felt cold and heavy and big as a brick, all at once. “B-b-but I don’t want it on me,” he said, looking down at his feet. “I...I don’t want a Connection Seal, I don’t want to be the Iron-Jawed Boy.”
“Sometimes we don’t get what we want,” Othum said, his voice stern. Ion turned to him, confused and hurt. “Do you think I wanted a diamond in my chest for the rest of my life? Do you think Esereez wanted diamonds on his shoulders for the rest of his?”
“N-no, but—”
“Sometimes what we don’t want is actually what we need,” said Othum. “Of all the things I’ve forgotten in my life, that is a rule that will never escape my memory. However strange your jaw might be, I think it has something very big in store for you—something very big, and very good. You’ll just have to wait and see. Your jaw makes you different, Ionikus Reaves, and more often than not, it is our differences that make us stronger.”
Ion ran his fingers across his jaw, feeling the nicked, raw iron, and the triangle of eyes on his chin. He remembered how it helped him control the storm he’d just made—that metal jaw he’d hated all along. Maybe Othum was right.
The Illyrian approached and smiled down upon Ion. “Be happy, Ion. You have a father and sister who care about you. You have new friends. You have a home. You have love. And you have a difference that makes you strong.”
