The Helio Trilogy: Volumes 1-3

by Valerie Roeseler

  Finishing the first half of my sandwich, I charge, “Give me an hour to eat and get dressed. Have Solas gather everyone in the Throne Room.”

  Thea gives me a curt nod, leaving promptly. Jack questions, “Are you sure you don’t want to rest?”

  I guarantee, “I’ve rested enough. I owe them answers.”

  My father notes, “We have yet to hear word from Michael.”

  “They can’t wait that long.”

  Azrael states, “I will find Tristan. This needs to be taken care of right away.”

  The Gray Legion marches into the Throne Room, elegant decorations from the wedding still in place. I fiddle with the throne’s rose embellishment at my fingertips as I wait for everyone. My father stands by my side. My Chief of Command is front in line with my General and her brother. Jack stands at the back of the room with Evelyn, Ezra, Alice, and Eric. Solas reaches out to me, “I heard what happened. How are you doing?”

  Why didn’t you come see me then?

  “You had plenty of help. Three would make a crowd,” he indicates.

  Tristan is going to help me.

  “I don’t know if he will be as effective as you hope.”

  Why?

  “We will talk about it after this.”

  I rise to my feet, spreading my wings to garner the room’s attention. Every spine erects with rigidness. Though this is not the first time I’ve gathered the legion, every time is just as surreal as the first. These warriors have fought and bled alongside me from the moment I was shanghaied to The Keep.

  My wings tuck behind me as I observe each face of The Gray Legion. They wait patiently for me to figure out what to say to them. I begin, “There has never been a legion as offensive and unethical to Paradise as us.” I take comfort in the strength and confidence they exude from that statement. I smile at them, “There has never been a legion as powerful either.” Pride amasses the legion. “Each of you has fought and bled with me since Beleth brought me here. You believed in me… You believed in the Light even though you were consumed by Darkness. There is no strength as mighty as the fight each of you weathered against it. For that alone, I am glad I could give you the redemption you deserve.”

  Solas warns in my mind, “You’re going to turn these warriors to mush if you keep talking like that.”

  “I am forever grateful for your loyalty through the journey I faced to defeat the Four Horsemen. I know now that it was never my own journey. All of us were a part of it…and we prevailed. The Horsemen have been destroyed. It is over. You are no longer rogue Warriors of Darkness. You are now Warriors of Light. There is no reason for you to remain at The Keep. I do not want that for you. There is an entire world out there, waiting for you to rediscover. No more looking over your shoulders. No more sneaking around. You have never been obligated to be a part of this legion and have held the right to leave at any time. I will no longer command this legion.”

  The room is unmoving, staring in a daze. Someone speaks up from the crowd, “What of your next mission? You may need us.”

  I sigh. “I don’t know what the future holds for me. I can tell you that I don’t want to be held up here for the rest of my immortal existence. Neither should you.”

  Another warrior calls through the room, “What if something happens and no one is there to help.”

  I smile at his sentiment. “If there is ever a time where I may need you, would you entertain the idea of allowing me to reach out to you?”

  The warrior nods once with satisfaction. The room begins to pound their chests. Theodora and Cassius join in, their expressions sad yet pleased. Solas gains a mischievous smile on his face and initiates a chant. It reverberates through the Throne Room, “Teloch! Teloch! Teloch! Teloch!”

  I roll my eyes at him, Really?

  “This may be their last chance to prove how much they appreciate what you’ve done for them. Let them.”

  Once the Throne Room empties, Solas, Theodora, Cassius, Jack, Evelyn, Alice, and Eric meet my father and me on the steps of the dais. Theodora notes, “They will have a hard time adjusting off the island.”

  Alice suggests, “Is there a way we can help them acclimate?”

  Evelyn offers, “It will take time, but I can find them residences if needed.”

  Eric muses, “I think most of them will continue to fight for the Light of Paradise, waiting to be called.”

  Cassius remarks, “It would be nice, but it would be hard to leave the family I’ve gained on the surface.”

  Before I tear up, Jack changes the subject, addressing my father, “Did you find Tristan?”

  Azrael inclines his head, “He is on his way.”

  I regard Solas, “What did you mean that Tristan may not be able to help me?”

  He nervously eyes my father in hesitation. “If it was an Original that placed the ward, Tristan will not be powerful enough to break it.”

  Regarding Solas, Azrael interprets, “You believe Lilith is responsible?”

  Solas eludes, “The only beings able to place wards are Cherubim and Original Archangels. We know that whoever placed the ward on Ivy has been close to her at some point. I am the only Cherubim she has been around on a regular basis. I can assure you I would never do that to her. That leaves an Original Archangel. Ivy trusts that you did not place the ward, and your enthusiasm to find answers makes it clear that it was not you. It could have been Lilith during Ivy’s time in Sheol. It couldn’t be Mephistopheles because the ward would break once his essence was destroyed.”

  I observe, “That leaves Raphael, Gabriel, and Michael.”

  Evelyn laments, “What reason would they have to do such a thing?”

  No one dares to dispute her claim. Evelyn is not only Jack’s mother anymore. She has become the mother of the entire Gray Legion. We give her respect and do what she says without argument. She demands us to rest, we rest. She commands us to eat, we eat. On top of that, she has always been there as a shoulder to cry on or the sound voice of reason and advice. Evelyn will always be our mother figure even though the legion is no more.

  I don’t meet her eyes as I challenge, “Why do you trust Michael?”

  The silence drones for enough time that I worry. I look up to her face, wide and disbelieving. Her tone reflects her astonishment, “Michael is The Supreme. He was the first angel ever created.”

  She waits for the realization to hit me. It never comes. I shrug, “So? What has he done to gain your trust?”

  Azrael explains, “Trust was not a concept in the beginning. There was never an event that led to mistrust until The Morning Star began to question The Creator.”

  Evelyn adds, “Michael is the oldest and wisest of all angels. He is The Creator’s right hand.”

  Azrael accounts, “To mistrust Michael is to mistrust The Creator.”

  A shameful thought crosses my mind. Solas cautions, “Don’t.”

  Ignoring him, I voice, “Who is The Creator? Have you ever met them?” I rise to my feet angry that they have never questioned the root of their being. “I’ve never seen them! Here I am, Teloch, a creation that has a destiny. That destiny is supposedly predetermined by The Creator. Why? To what end? Who are they? Why do they appoint Michael to do their bidding? What makes you think Michael hasn’t had his own agenda? What makes you think Michael and The Creator don’t have their own agendas?”

  Solas rockets for me, “Ivy!” He catches me in his arms as I topple forward. My body quivers uncontrollably in his arms, and he lowers me into his lap. He strokes a wisp of hair from my face as he whispers, “I think you’re on to something, princess.”

  My teeth chatter as I force out the words unevenly, “What...is…ha…hap…pen…ing?”

  Everyone surrounds us. The corner of Solas’ lips tilts to the side. “You’re bleeding again. The ward is warning you to stay away from your thoughts.”

  My body eases its tension, the shaking slowing. “So…close… So…tired.”

  He says, “Yes. Rest now. We will figu
re it out when you wake.”

  As I lose the fight against the ward on my mind, I catch sight of Evelyn and my father’s faces. They regard each other with apprehension and uncertainty, and I know we have our answer.”

  Everyone prepared for when I woke. Grilled Cheese Sandwiches, coffee, water, orange juice, donuts, chips, Jägermeister, and even a casserole dish are waiting for me as I come to, though I’m alone. I squint my eyes through the pain, pushing back my covers and stumbling my way to the bathroom. I splash water on my face then feel my way to the food at my desk. I plop heavily into its chair and muster what energy I can to force myself to eat. The water is the first thing to touch my parched lips. It washes over me, clearing the blurriness of my surroundings. After two grilled cheese sandwiches, one donut, a cup of coffee, and a sip of orange juice, I feel my energy spike.

  Knowing these episodes are becoming more frequent, I eat every last bite of food left for me. I’ll need the energy for what I must do. I’ll also have to be careful not to dwell on it too much.

  Solas knocks on my door, allowing himself in at the same time, “Feeling better?”

  I smile, “Yeah.” My delight fades as he comes to stand across the desk from me. I prompt, “Are Evelyn and my father alright? I know they don’t believe me. Are they angry?”

  He slides his hands into his front pockets. “They are confused and uncertain.”

  I assert, “They need proof.”

  He draws a long breath, releasing it slowly. “Tristan won’t be able to help you. You will have to do this on your own.”

  I quirk a brow, “Do what? How am I supposed to find proof?”

  Solas steps around the desk and crouches down, taking my hands. “You must find the ward within you and break it on your own. Once it is broken, the memories being blocked from you should come. I’m hoping those memories will unlock the truth behind who placed the ward on your mind and why.”

  I rest an elbow on the formidable desk chair’s arm and rub my forehead. “I’m so tired of fighting. I need a vacation.”

  Solas chuckles, coaxing a playful glare from me. “There’s no such thing as vacation when you are Death and Darkness is your enemy as well as your friend.”

  I purse my lips. “It’s not fair.”

  He rises before me, helping me to my feet. “It’s not about what is fair, princess. It’s about what is right.”

  I grin at his statement with suspicion. “Have you been talking to Cassius?”

  Solas’ brows converge in confusion. “No. Why?”

  I snicker. “He told me the same thing when I told him the Griffin’s damnation wasn’t fair.”

  As he smiles down at me, his blue eyes glint with joviality. The pull inside me warns of the inevitable choice I made and what I must do. I push those feelings away. I may be procrastinating, holding off on sealing my fate, but I can’t help the itching sense that the memories hiding within me are crucial to unveil as soon as possible.

  I squeeze Solas’ hand once, then part from him to tend the fire. As I toss more wood into the hearth, I request, “Will you help me do this?”

  He joins me, his tone low and thick, “I will always be here when you need me.” He takes my hand again after I dust them off, and we sit across from each other.

  I tease, “Even when I don’t think I do?”

  His gaze is serious, “Even then.”

  I soak in the comfortable silence between us, the touch of his hands on mine, his warmth, and his gentleness. I close my eyes. My empathic walls come down. His compassion, devotion, and encouragement become corporal, filling me wholly. I probe, What am I looking for?

  His voice swims through my mind, and I’m aware of his presence with me, “I’m not sure. Possibly something that doesn’t belong. It could be as plain as seeing the ward itself.”

  I take him on a journey to the depths of my being, the core of my essence. We come upon its flickering glow, gilded against the blackness surrounding it. Its heat is an inviting comfort, calling us to come closer. Solas modulates with astonishment, “That’s amazing.”

  I point out to him, Do you see the Darkness?

  “Yes.”

  I search around my essence, only finding it balanced and content. I summon Solas’ opinion, I don’t see anything here that doesn’t belong. Do you?

  “No.”

  Are we going about this the wrong way?

  “Perhaps. Are you able to explore yourself on a visceral level from here?”

  I speculate, I can try. I’ve never made the transition before. We’ll see what happens.

  “Begin with your brain. I’ll save you the medical terminology, so search the front part and the crevasse separating it.”

  I jest, Maybe I should go back to school for a doctorate in anatomy.

  “It could help.”

  If he could see me roll my eyes, I would. The radiance of my essence fades as we trail away, following dark red lines through my body. When we come upon my brain, I find it a bit repulsive. My search is hastily done, and I pull away. There’s nothing here, Solas.

  He concurs, “I don’t see anything either. It has to be here somewhere.” We linger inside, both of us clueless what to do. Solas wonders, “What if we try to make the ward react again. We both know the common thought that triggers it.”

  I stress, What will it do to me if I’m in here?

  “Try not to dwell too much on it. Let’s just see if it will react. If I’m right, it will illuminate as all wards do in defense.”

  I resentfully agree to try, not looking forward to the physical reaction my body will have. I instigate flashes of memories. The first to come is the initial time I met Michael, falling to my knees in the Veil. The next is when he showed up to the Roe’s estate to collect messages to give to Jack in Paradise. He made it seem as if Jack would never be sent back to the surface. The anger that memory solicits grows as I remember him offering us the armor we needed for the Greek Masquerade Ball to battle with Lucian. I’ve always thought he shorted us armor on purpose, ultimately pushing Solas away from me. Michael was responsible for Jack’s return. He knew the number of suits we would need when he gave them to us. I question again why he needed Solas out of the way.

  Solas urges, “That’s it, I see it. Keep going. Do you see it?”

  The slight illumination the ward produces fades as I find it. We shoot through my body in the direction it came from, looking around. When we come up empty handed, I push for more answers. I challenge the reason it took so long for Michael to place my mother in Purgatory if one of his special gifts is to find people.

  The thought triggers the ward inside me. A pressure builds as I catch its glow. We creep closer. I keep the last thought of Michael and my mother in the forefront of my mind. We discover the ward nestled between the muscle and bone of my right rib cage. It’s an Enochian script of multiple characters with a bright green luminescence. Solas laments, “Oh, shit.”

  I shoot to my feet ripping at my shirt to expose the skin of my ribs. The tribal tattoo framing my side to cover the scar from my wreck has a faint green glow beneath it. It’s hardly noticeable unless you know what you’re looking for. I rub my palm over the tattoo roughly, “Get it out, Solas! Get it out!”

  “Ivy!” Solas barks, seizing my hands from me. “Look at me,” he demands.

  My body is shaking—partly from fear, mostly from anger. My brows converge, “He put something in me, Solas. I want it out.” My Darkness floods my eyes.

  Solas doesn’t falter at the sight. “We know where it is now. Being green, it is clearly an Original’s ward, and everything is pointing to Michael.”

  I rage, “I knew he hated me! He’s always had something against me.”

  Solas squeezes my hands, determination in his tenor, “It’s up to you to break it.”

  “How?”

  “You have to push past the memories triggering it. Push it until it breaks.”

  I deflate, “How am I going to do that without blacking out again?�
�

  His voice deepens, “Use the Darkness to get past the pain. Let it heal you in the process.”

  I take a breath, nodding with preparedness. We sit back down. I muse of my evident Darkness, “Why are you not afraid of me when I’m like this?”

  Unsmiling, Solas testifies, “I don’t think you’ll ever understand the pride I have for you. It proves how strong you’ve become, how much you’ve grown, how much you’ve overcome. If I was still your guardian, I could retire knowing you can take care of yourself. When I see your Darkness manifest, I delight in it—not because of my own Darkness but because you have accepted yourself for who you are and embraced it fully. It’s a wondrous and beautiful thing to behold.”

  I consider all the things I’ve had to overcome to get here. Michael is the last obstacle holding me back from complete unity with myself. Whatever he is hiding, it’s a part of my life that belongs to me. I begin to inquire, Why would a memory ward be underneath the scarring from my wreck and not on my mind where it was expected to be?

  The wreck flickers in my mind, my body hanging upside down in the car as I cry out for Gideon. I notice the blood streaming down my head. The memory fades to me waking in the hospital, lethargic and in pain, bandages on my head.

  I feel the pain radiate through my body, and I become aware of the ward causing it. I can smell the blood dripping from my nose, but keep pushing.

  A doctor comes in my hospital room, but I can’t see his face. He mentions how lucky I am and says he thinks it’s time. I encourage my Darkness to force me past the ward. I want to know what the doctor looks like.

  Agony radiates through my body. I allow the Darkness to rectify the pain. I become numb.

  The doctor comes into view. It’s Michael. He unwraps my head, “This will not do.” He eyes me, “Do you know my name?” It’s on the tip of my tongue, but he stifles my words with his hand over my mouth. “The wreck destroyed the memory ward I had in place. I must replace it before you become coherent.” My tongue is like cotton in my mouth, I want to protest, but he pushes something into me causing me to fall asleep. I wake with a hideous scar on my side, believing it was from the wreck.