Page 8 of Greed of Giants

I closed my mouth as we walked uphill, keeping my focus on my breathing, my ribs throbbing with each step. Harlan waited for me at the top, and I joined him, turning to face the water. “You don’t believe in mermaids, yet you believe in giants.”

“The ancient city is right here, it’s hard to ignore the truth when the proof is in our faces.”

“Will you tell me what you know?” I asked carefully. “Your version of the Great Sundering?”

He nodded, brushing a hand over his face, fingers scraping the white hairs on his chin. “Oh, aye, although I’m not sure how they tell the story in the land you hail from.”

“That’s why I want to hear it from your perspective, in your words.”

He was quiet for a moment, eyes on the path ahead as we climbed. The grass grew tall around our legs, and somewhere in the distance came birdsong. The tension in my shoulders softened at the awareness that this island stillfelt normal. Humans might not live here, behind the wall of mist, but animals did.

“The giants were great builders, obvious from the ruins. They built vast cities, but legends hold that they weren’t simply intellectual and creative, they were also hoarders. Greedy. They refused to let anything go, not gold, or knowledge, nor even the bones of their dead.”

I listened, the weave of his voice more captivating than the tale he spun. How could I blame the giants for their greed when we were just like them? We hoarded knowledge. We built great monuments and—my thoughts went to my grandmother’s bones—we only buried our dead if we believed they wouldn’t be punished in the afterlife.

“The giants dug deep into the earth,” Harlan continued. “They found jewels, precious metals, and other things that should have stayed buried. They built great cities that scraped the heavens and filled vaults that went down into the darkness. Rumor holds that as they dug, they found something unspeakable. A door deep under the earth. Some say it led to the realm of the dead, others say it was where the gods buried the magic that wrote this world. Regardless, when the door was opened, and whatever was within escaped, the Great Sundering began.”

A door. This differed from the tales I’d heard before. All I knew was that their greed caused the Great Sundering and the age of the giants ended. The humans rose in power and wealth, and strength. We didn’t make the same mistakes, we didn’t dig deep into the earth and open doors we had no business opening. Had Scholar Benjamin heard this tale and taken it seriously? Had he searched for the door, curious to discover what lay on the other side?

Cold touched the back of my neck. “What came through that door?” I asked.

Harlan shrugged. “The truth is, no one actually knows if the door was even opened. It makes a convincing story, but the truth is lost to legend, just like the giants. Regardless, the ground shook, a volcano spat up fire and ash, and this island was split from the mainland, a cursed, haunted place that serves as a reminder of what happens to those who displease the gods. In the early days, many came, snatching relics, hunting for treasure. But rumor holds that those who took from this place were cursed, bound to the same fate as the giants themselves. Treasure hunters soon gave up. Even though there’s no proof, just tales now, I caution you against taking anything from the ruins. Go, walk among them, catalog what you see, take notes, transcribe, but do not take so much as a piece of dust.”

So then, if I found treasure, I shouldn’t take it in case it was cursed. Did I believe in curses? I wasn’t sure, but it dampened the idea of finding magical relics and returning to the House of Scholars for notoriety and praise.

“Do you think they found the treasures of the gods: the Rod, the Heart, and the Stone?”

Harlan shrugged. “Anything is possible. All we know for sure is that whatever they found, the giants paid the ultimate price. Some doors, once opened, can’t be closed again.”

I fell silent as we rounded the bend. A hut lay before us, tucked into the hillside, with a view of the beach below. Another path led onward, winding into the woods, climbing toward the summit. Wind stirred my hair, aglimmer of gold rushed through the air, and voices whispered around me, calling, beckoning.

I stood still, letting the eeriness of the story settle in my mind.

Something here called to me. Truth that no one had uncovered.

But I was here now.

I would discover it.

4

Ilaris

Harlan led me to the hut and pressed a key and a map of the island into my hands. The walk to the ruins would take only an hour or two, but he apologized that duty called him elsewhere. With a promise to return in the morning, he strode back to the beach while I surveyed the hut.

One room held everything: a tidy bed tucked in a corner, firewood stacked by the door, cabinets full of food, and a table under the window. An optimal place to write my notes. It was cozy yet lonely.

Rather than dwell on my isolation, I packed a small satchel, locked the door, and followed the path toward the ruins.

The dirt trail slithered into the colossal trees, their shade almost too cool. The fragrance of wood and heather awakened my senses. I took my time, careful not to irritate my healing bruises.

The wood ended abruptly, and the tang of salt had longfaded from the air as I stepped into a clearing. Gray stone thrust up from the lush grass, a polished pillar carved with runes. I caught my breath, recognizing an artifact from an ancient world. A signpost.

Excitement surged through me as I unfurled the map and confirmed I was halfway to my destination. The spirit of the scholar rose within me, reaffirming my determination to find answers. The armor, however, was growing heavy. I tugged at it, wondering if I should have left it behind. But no, I still didn’t know what I’d uncover out here. It was folly to ignore wisdom’s advice.

A soft, keening sound cut through the silence.

I froze, listening.