Read Online The Iron-Jawed Boy and the Hand of the Moon (Book 2, Sky Guardian Chronicles) by Nikolas Lee - Free Book Online

scrambling. “Just...rumors. Er —not rumors —but words of caution, I...I guess. You are the goddess of death and all.”
    “And time ,” she added. “Everyone forgets that part. It’s insulting.”
    Lady Helia, the Illyrian of time and death. She had no temples on Eldanar. No shrines. No statues. No cults that worshipped her as they did the others. She was the Bringer of Death, and no Eldanarian dared speak her name because of it.
    “S-sorry, Lady Helia,” Ion said, looking to the floor.
    “Yes, well, all is forgiven, Mr. Reaves. May we start the Procession now?”
    He looked to the turquoise streets outside the Hall and marched out of the building, head held high but palms sweaty. He passed the monstrous feet of the chained cyclops, and walked down the stairs of the Hall, taking a right on the street where Othum had indicated.
    He kept close to Helia’s side to make sure he wasn’t walking too fast or slow. Glancing back, he saw the other Guardians marching as nervously as he was—even Lillian, whose hands were balled into fists at her side as she walked beside Onyxia. The Queen didn’t look pleased, occasionally hissing at Lillian when the elf would draw too near.
      They walked past countless shops, with apartments situated above those, some squat, some tall—all of them constructed of sandstone, their windows and doorframes banded in gold. With the Procession Bell still ringing through the city, Ion took a right on the next road, and when the golden gates studded with sapphires came into view, Helia spoke up.
    “The first Procession is always the most nerve-racking,” she said, eyes kept straight ahead. “But it’ll get better. Thornikus was just as nervous his first time.”
    “Thornikus White?” Ion asked, daring to look at the goddess, then deciding it was best not to.
    “Your first life, yes,” she replied. “There wasn’t a soul on Illyria who wasn’t familiar with the first Sky Guardian. Stormy days, those were. You had a bit of a brush with him, I understand?”
    Suddenly, Ion couldn’t have wished for those golden gates to be upon them sooner. He remembered the anger that had coursed through his body that day he had first heard the voice of Thornikus in the Acropolis coliseum. The voice that urged him to do it—urged him to strike Spike down with a vicious bolt of lightning.
    “I guess you could call it a brush, yeah.”
    “It’s all right, Guardian,” she said. “There isn’t a past life of yours who hasn’t had to deal with the voice of Thornikus White. His voice, his anger—it comes with the soul you’ve inherited. You simply can’t have one without the other.”
    “Othum told me my second life had issues, too. Atticus Clearwater.”
    “Ah, Atticus—yes, I remember him well, too. But that was not the only life of yours who battled Thornikus. There was Aurelius, Sorn, Lauria—ten in total.”
    Ion knitted his brows at Helia’s words, suddenly so confused. He reached the golden gates, pulled them open, and stood at their side.
    “Ten?” he asked Lady Helia. “But the Guardians are all third generations. I’ve only had two lives before me.”
    Helia stopped beneath the gates and finally looked at Ion with those glowing white eyes. “Yes. That’s what we’re supposed to tell you.”

CHAPTER SEVEN
    THE ONE WITH THE GRAY EYES
    The ring of the bell came loud yet again. Lady Helia proceeded through the gates, the ends of her smoky robes crawling across the floor in her wake, taking the smell of sadness with her. Ion’s mind was reeling. Stomach turning. Yes, that’s what we’re supposed to tell you , Helia had said, the words replaying again and again in Ion’s head. But why? What did the gods have to hide? What happened to my past lives that I’d have so many?
    The god with the sewn-shut mouth—Adalantis, Illyrian of the desert—entered the Sanctum behind Helia, and Theo stopped beside Ion.
    “I’m so nervous my hands feel like they’ve been licked by dogs