Share
Chapter Sixty-Two: A Mother's Visions
“Now, we find the relic and go back,” said Thassa.
“But I don’t have the other relics,” she said, her shoulders sagging with the memory. She quickly ran through the events on Benguzi, Thassa listening attentively.“That means Zlo has the relics you and the Light … Sul …” he shook his head, “I mean, Astrapi found?”“Yes, he does," she said hearing only failure in her acknowledgment. But then why was Thassa looking less despondent?"That's good news, Ilyria," said Thassa, "Because it means they are still in one place. Even if that place is with him. We just have to figure out how to get the relics back from him."
Ilyria was not convinced this was such good news, though she felt a small ember of hope warming her.
"Thassa, how do we know that he doesn’t already have the Yakip relic? And the Izben one? We didn't even make it to those places. And the Nemachi one? If it even exists.”
She remembered that final image of the Nemachi fortress, the smoki
Related chapters
Ilyria and the Lightning Bird Chapter Sixty-Three: Memory Bubbles
Ilyria had the dizzying impression of being in two places at once, which—in a way—she was. She was here, with Miasma beside her but also there, inside the whirlpool, with Thassa, feeling his thoughts and seeing what he saw. She watched herself reach out and pop one of the kaleidoscope bubbles that floated past, but it was Thassa’s scarred hand that did it. She looked around her and saw Miasma’s tranquil, untroubled expression beside her outside of the whirlpool. She even felt some of Miasma’s ease. It was going to be alright, of course it was, Ilyria felt Miasma thinking. It was not yet the end and who could tell if anything ever ended anyway. Comforted by Miasma’s thoughts she returned her attention to Thassa, feeling him cross his arms over his chest as the memory was released from the bubble he had just popped. His mother sitting cross-legged with little Thassa’s leg pulled over hers, carefully pulling long spiny thorns from his flesh. Thassa’s face was smooth and tear-streaked b
Ilyria and the Lightning Bird Chapter Sixty-Four: Zlo
Ilyria had already grabbed Miasma’s hand, before she realized she had no idea where they would run to. And what about Thassa? She felt Zlo’s amusement. He enjoyed her panic. It was like watching ants trying to save the ruin of their nest, not knowing that their inconsequential lives could be snuffed out in an instant … Wait. … she could feel Zlo. In the same way as the water gave her access to Thassa and Miasma, she could feel the flow of Zlo's thoughts. It was like being trapped in a dark tower. The walls were cold, impenetrable, there was no light. In this cold dark space he was invincible. Nothing could stop him. He was the most powerful. Yet. There was something else. Behind the door to this room at the top of the tower, down the thousands of stairs that wound their way to the bottom, through the cellar door and deep into the earth waited the something that was very, very, hungry and very, very patient. It waited for him. But if he stayed in this room, wi
Ilyria and the Lightning Bird Chapter Sixty-Five: Ruins
Ilyria finally let go of Miasma’s hand. They stood in the middle of smoking black ruins beneath a cobalt sky in which the brother full moon and sister waxing moon were clearly visible. The Twin Moons were nearly reunited. From the streets around them came noise of fighting and still that infernal procession with its drums and cymbals, though they were moving farther away. Somehow they were back in Idixat. Ilyria’s heart thudded with joy and relief. Solid ground and a disrupted burning city were still preferable to that strange watery place that was Thassa’s home, and Zlo. Thassa lay at their feet, groaning. Ilyria dropped Miasma’s hand and fell to her knees. She lifted Thassa’s head. His eyes—thankfully, mercifully—fluttered open. “Ilyria,” he whispered. Then he saw Miasma and his eyes widened. “You…” he said. Ilyria turned to Miasma and only then understood what he was seeing. Miasma silver-gold hair fluttered around her as static sparked and crackled up and
Ilyria and the Lightning Bird Chapter Sixty-Six: Aeon Clocks
Thassa found the third piece and Miasma the fourth and final. They laid the pieces together. The sky had lightened which only made the ruins among which they knelt look worse. Ilyria tried not to think of the life that had seemed so much like a home for her here. She tried to believe it was just a place that she had temporarily stayed. But it was not. The three of them stared down at the epoch clock. “Ilyria …” said Miasma softly, “Maybe …” “It will work,” said Ilyria, not meeting her eyes. “It will.” It had to. She knew the aeon clock in her father’s study as well as she knew and loved his face. The nooks and crannies of his face still lived under her fingertips, the smell of his crisp tunics still lingered as a scent-memory in some deep part of her brain. Yet she had difficulty recalling the exact colour of his eyes or what his feet had looked like. Memory was a strange creature. So it was with the aeon clock. Each one was unique in a way kn
Ilyria and the Lightning Bird Chapter Sixty-Seven: Ceremony
Miasma looked at Thassa who lifted his shoulders in a tired shrug. "The last time we saw Fierce was after Thassa gave her the collar and she went to find you,” she said to Ilyria. “She wasn’t there with you I think.” Ilyria shook her head. “No, she took off when I left the guardhouse at the gate.” “Ilyria,” said Miasma, she put a hand on Ilyria’s shoulder and Ilyria had a brief half-memory of happy smells, of home and rest and kindness. She sighed and allowed herself to be comforted by Miasma. “Fierce will be okay. She is … Fierce,” Miasma smiled and Ilyria felt a little less anxious in spite of herself, “But now we really must go.” The three hurried along the dark streets, the sounds ahead of them becoming louder and more disturbing. Ilyria had though the procession was never ending with its clanging cymbals and drums and the odd trumpet. But as they progressed along the streets and the sun’s rays illuminated their path, she saw signs that the proces
Ilyria and the Lightning Bird Chapter Sixty-Eight: There Will Be Freedom
For a while as they walked, Ilyria wondered if the sounds they were hearing were just some sort of auditory hallucination. The streets around them were empty. The houses with their shattered windows and burst open doors showed traces of the violence that had been there, but they too were empty. The sounds they heard were always just ahead. Peta would not leave Miasma’s side which Ilyria thought was understandable. He shadowed Miasma's every step. And in turn, Ilyria shadowed him, uncertain when he might turn again into a channel for the thing that may yet be powerful even than Zlo. It had said of the ceremony that “it is ours”. Now Ilyria puzzled over what that meant. “Mia,” said Ilyria, keeping an eye on Peta but hurrying to Miasma’s other side. “You said that I’m …” she glanced at the boy not wanting to say the word, “… of Izben and you of Menos.” “Magos?” said Miasma with a smile. Ilyria need not have worried. Peta continued treading dully, apparen
Ilyria and the Lightning Bird Chapter Sixty-Nine: The Palace
A woman at the back of the procession gave a long guttural howl. Every hair on Ilyria’s body stood on end. “Use the glamour,” said Miasma, “Help me, use the glamour.” “And do what?" said Ilyria, "Where do we even go?” Aerie? No then they would be too far away. They had to be in the Palace. Palace? What part of the Palace? The Princess’s chambers? The Princess’s garden? She felt for the token in her pocket already knowing it wasn’t there and that she wouldn’t use it even if she had it. The Princess, she decided, could not be trusted. Vatra? Yakip?No. They had to be here. “Make a run for it,” said Thassa, readying himself as if to do just that. The procession moved with purpose now, bearing down on them. Their fac
Ilyria and the Lightning Bird Chapter Seventy: Early
Ilyria, Miasma and Thassa paused at the iron and gold gates. The Gates of Perception they were called. Ilyria had never been this close to them. As a child she had been told they were enchanted. Any person wishing to see the Mogul had to pass the test of the Gates of Perception. Those who did not come with noble intentions would be incinerated as they passed through. Perhaps that was why the three hesitated. The heavy iron had been wrought with gold into the history of the Moguls of Idixat. There was the first with his high, noble brow, hands aloft, providing benediction for the new city. There was his successor, the same noble brow, bending to drink the water from the underground river on which the city relied. There was his successor’s successor, digging the first spadeful of dirt for the city’s ramparts. And so on. Each Mogul’s face was rendered in gold, his body in iron. The arid land in iron, the city he drew from its earth in gold. It was a study of how a man was made
Latest chapter
- Ilyria and the Lightning Bird Chapter Seventy-Seven: One World
- Ilyria and the Lightning Bird Chapter Seventy-Six: Freedom
- Ilyria and the Lightning Bird Chapter Seventy-Five: The Shackled One
- Ilyria and the Lightning Bird Chapter Seventy-Four: A Reckoning
- Ilyria and the Lightning Bird Chapter Seventy-Three: Moon Dust
- Ilyria and the Lightning Bird Chapter Seventy-Two: True Relics
- Ilyria and the Lightning Bird Chapter Seventy-One: An Old Friend
- Ilyria and the Lightning Bird Chapter Seventy: Early
- Ilyria and the Lightning Bird Chapter Sixty-Nine: The Palace
