Titan Song (Star Child: Places of Power Book 3)

by Leonard Petracci

  Arial gripped my arm, Francesca stumbled back, and Slugger launched a fallen ledge of rock as a pitiful shield in front of us. I generated two dark orbs, baring my teeth, the heat radiating towards us already eliminating any moisture from my face.

  And I knew that this thing, which had once been Dacil, Francesca’s father, had undergone Lynns’ prediction. That he was no longer human, but a force of nature.

  Chapter 66

  Pebbles danced across the concrete, skittering in circles, bouncing against our shins and jumping off the ledge into the exposed ruin tunnels. Before us the concrete edge started to glow, crumbling away, corroding as if attacked by acid. Molten rock rushed to fill the corridor maze, the figure at its peak now towering so high at the arena center to eclipse the sun.

  In my hands, the dark orbs seemed tiny in comparison as he loomed over us, magma dripping away off his mass. Nothing I’d seen had ever approached this amount of sheer power —even Lacit, the strongest Special I had encountered, was only a man. This was something more, something that now filled nearly the entire coliseum, yet still grew.

  I threw the orbs, whipping them towards the blazing tower, fighting to stabilize them as the crashed into either side. Magma wicked away, drawn in whirlpools that attacked the structure, thinning it to resemble an hourglass. But the mass flowed in too quickly—with the density of rock far greater than water, the orbs swelled in size beyond my grasp, growing beyond their stability in seconds. Francesca’s father roared once more, stamping a foot that sent a reverberation down the column just as I lost complete control and the orbs exploded.

  The entire column lurched upwards, enormous bubbles blowing out the sides and spewing streamers of rock away. Then it fell in upon itself, the liquid regaining form, healing and surging higher than before, accompanied by a bellow of rage as the Titan raised a fist. A lance of molten rock stripped away from the column and arced towards us, cascading down with enough material to bury the entire platform, a streak of hot death. I raised my hands, eyebrows singeing as I created a massive force point alongside it, pulling at the lance with all my strength, bowing the magma around the invisible distortion in space. It turned in mid-air as if pulled by a magnet, splashing back harmlessly into the column as I fell to my knees.

  I’d only deflected the mass, not even blocked it, and so great was it that it had taken nearly all my strength. Dacil sent it with a casual wave.

  “Incoming! SC, move!” shouted Slugger as what used to be Dacil raised both hands, pulling upwards a wave of molten rock from the arena catacombs. Rearing up like a tsunami, it broke above us, hurtling down in an angry surge of red. Immediately, I spread my palms, angling them upwards and stretching space, the area above us crackling as a rectangular plane of darkness rippled into existence. My vision swam as magma collided with it, spilling over each side to splash down only feet away, flecks smoldering against our clothes. Above, the dark rectangle buckled and ruptured, exploding upwards and throwing the magma away in an enormous umbrella.

  I panted, Arial’s grip supporting me enough so I didn’t fall, gritting my teeth as I glared up at the Titan. The mass of magma was too great for me to effectively combat—too much matter in my orbs and space that started to bend outside my control, too heavy to maneuver. The column alone supporting him weighed hundreds more times than I could handle. In an outright battle, he’d win, either smashing us like bugs or solidifying us in liquid rock.

  “Slugger, we need to be light!” I shouted as Dacil prepared another strike. With Arial’s flight and Slugger’s power, we still stood a chance of escaping, but transporting all of us at once made for a slow and cumbersome target. I’d still be the bulwark of our defenses and there were only a few direct shots left in me.

  But then something flashed out of the corner of my eye —a sparkle that dashed over the concrete from the blimp, leaping through the air and plunging down towards the pool of magma. Blake shouted as he fell, his entire form turning diamond as crystals shot out from the soles of his shoes to widen his feet. He landed on bowl-shaped heels, pushing off the magma and skating around the side of the Titan’s column, his legs pumping to keep him afloat.

  “Get Francesca out of here before she’s killed!” he shouted, then slashed an arm through the magma column to divert the Titan’s attention. “You’re all dead when this is over, but she’s staying alive!”

  Dacil turned, confused as Blake zipped around it, shouting obscenities up at its form. We took advantage of the moment to act.

  “Arial, get her to the portal,” I commanded as Francesca opened her mouth to object, and I spoke over her. “Look, if you want to intervene, you can do it just fine up there behind some shelter. He doesn’t recognize you as his daughter now. He tried to kill you twice. Go!”

  Francesca hesitated, but it was all the time Arial needed, whisking her upwards and away. Dacil lurched back towards them, releasing a spray that Arial easily dodged before setting Francesca down and streaking over to buzz around his head. It howled, swatting at her, but she was too quick, moving just as magma welled upwards, keeping just out of his reach while Blake pulled his attention back. The suit from Lynn’s aided her motion, one she had strapped on before the blimp crashed, her erratic motions far more difficult to hit than her normal smooth paths as the flaps under her arms caught the air. But it would only take one slip-up, one mistake, and Arial would be swatted from the sky into the fires below.

  Around me, Slugger turned a circle, his fingers tracing through the air, and an immediate draft pulled inwards as he made it lighter. Cooler air from behind rushed in, clearing my head while solidifying the leftover magma from the assault that creeped in around us. Taking a deep breath, the fresh oxygen building my energy reserve, I constructed two more dark orbs, then stepped forwards for a better shot at Dacil. His body was at the edge of my range, but if I could launch one perfectly, I could neutralize him.

  I aimed, preparing the shots, sending the orbs out into space where they would be closer to his figure, lining them up behind each other for two rapid fires. But Arial chose that moment to dive forwards and taunt him, unaware that he had summoned magma from the pool beneath to crash into her from behind.

  I reacted instinctively, slamming the orbs together, forming the elongated black tube that was now quickly turning to instinct. I stretched one end behind Arial, capturing the stream of magma before it could reach her body. With the other, I twisted it around her, aiming it directly at Dacil’s face.

  The stream sailed thirty feet before it collided with him, the first bit washing over his face as if it were nothing but a warm shower. Then he opened his mouth, swallowing the remainder of the stream whole, swelling in size as the magma flowed down his throat. With a belch, he spewed it back outwards, angling his face down at Blake, the cone of liquid rock burning away any clothing left on this fully crystallized body and sending him skidding away like a skipping stone. Blake careened into the side of the arena, the rock smashing around him, trapping him as it crumbled over him and the titan prepared for a finishing blow.

  But Arial drew Dacil’s attention away once more, whirling in circles around his head as he spun like a top to follow her. Magma welled upwards, building in strength, and I knew we had to finish the battle soon, with our only option being to flee.

  As Arial circled, there was movement behind her from the edges of the coliseum. I squinted, barely able to see through the waves of heat, just as faces started filling in the alcoves. Dozens of them, surrounding us in the arena, just as Dacil unleashed his killing blow and Arial launched herself upwards, chased by a spout of fire that melted the bottoms of her spotless sneakers, spreading her arms wide in Lynns’ suit to ride the hot air.

  Chapter 67

  I gawked as Lucio and Ennia appeared among the faces in the stadium, ducking and weaving until they appeared in the same archway as Francesca. Ennia raised her arms, and the scaffolding on a restoration area of the coliseum sprouted muscle and bone between its joints. It teetered, then w
obbled, coming loose from the wall and walking towards them before settling just before Francesca.

  Magma rained down on the Titan from his attack on Arial, and she was but a dot in the sky, having successfully outrun his strike. By now, Blake had recovered, digging his hooked fingers into crevices in the coliseum wall, escaping up towards the second level before he could sink into the magma. His eyes tracked Francesca, but with Dacil still bellowing before us, I had no option but to leave Ennia and Lucio alone to defend her.

  But now Francesca had stepped onto the scaffolding platform, and the joints flexed, raising her to be level with the lip of the coliseum. Two red beams followed her as the Titan raised his head, and the magma pit around him swelled, heat rippling forth in a blaze. The few remaining pillars behind the Titan toppled, splashing into the sea, and his body doubled in size once more.

  “He’s still getting stronger,” I said. “He’s completely out of control.”

  “Chains still fallin off, I’d bet,” added Slugger, raising a hand to cover his eyes, sweat pouring off his forehead. “He’s getting all rowdy now.”

  I could now see the flashing blue lights in the distance behind the Titan, but held off little hope as his power surged, and Francesca stood level with him in a challenge. For a, moment neither moved, neither wavered; both simply waited. As if they were each sizing up the other or experiencing something new.

  Then both opened their mouths. The Titan roared in fury.

  And Francesca sang.

  Her voice pierced through his roar, the sweet notes slipping around the blunt force, a float bobbing through a cascading wave. For a moment, it was as if his cry supported hers, as if they both reached a perfect harmony. Then it passed, his voice dying away while hers held true, a single thread trying to pull an anvil’s weight. Once more the pool of magma surged, the Titan raising his hands, but a second voice joined Francesca’s.

  Marshall’s head peeked out from an archway on her left, his deep voice joining her words in Italian, his voice bolstering hers. Then Ann appeared on the other side, her high voice on the other end of the spectrum. Together, the notes braided together, the highs and lows dancing in the arena as the Titan’s hands slowed. Two more voices joined, then two more as each of the other choir members stepped out, forming an arc that surrounded Dacil. First a semicircle, then nearly a full ring, each alcove on the wall occupied by another singer, all facing the single focal point of Francesca’s father in the center.

  Dacil froze, then lashed out, the blow almost halfhearted as the magma spilled harmlessly over the second floor of the coliseum. The voices above faltered, and the heat burned again, while Lucio’s face scrunched together and he focused upon the retreating choir singers. They paused before returning, their voices louder than ever, filled with a confidence greater than before the Titan had attacked.

  Dark bands formed on the column where the Titan stood, crossing over one another as they traveled up the liquid rock, solidifying wherever they touched. With each word, they spread faster, racing along the circumference until they reached his submerged legs. There the bands paused, Dacil looking down, stomping once and causing the top spirals to fall away and back into the pool below. But Francesca stepped forwards on her platform, redoubling her volume, leading the choir in a crescendo that built among them, gaining in power with each passing note. Dacil growled, straining, his ashen muscles bulging as if he were fighting against himself. Then the bands broke free, traveling up his legs, turning to grey where they touched his dark form.

  Around him, ash fell in flakes that drifted like leaves to a glowing pool below, swirling and caught up in the wind. Then chunks of coal followed, dropping and flaring as they floated in the molten rock, breaking off his arms and torso. The bands around the towering column thickened, constricting, expanding to cool the rock, a ring forming at the base as the pool around it solidified. It grew, shifting outwards, a dark glassy surface over what had been angry red only moments before, the arena resembling a frozen pond.

  Only the tip of the column still glowed, but it fled through the color spectrum, reaching a dull red in moments as the Titan’s cocoon continued to slough off like a molting insect. Instead of combusting in magma, the pieces now bounced on the solid lake surface, leaving chunks of forearm or breastplate far below. Then the first bit of skin showed as the base layer near his cheek fell away, miraculously unburnt. And with a crack, the remaining armor shattered, his body slumping against it from the inside, held up only by piled-up debris. His eyes closed, his torso naked under the ash, his head falling to one side. But still held high atop the tower, with his facial gems now scattered around his feet. High above us, and decorated as if a god.

  Francesca’s last words came soft as the singing died down, the circle of voices retracting the same way it had come. These turned to English, their effect still washing over me, and though away from the focal point, they only produced a calm, drowsy, as if I was ready for a nap after a long day’s work.

  “The fires you drive dwindle,

  May your thoughts rekindle,

  May you forget this day,

  And ever calm you stay.”

  Then her voice cut out, just as she started the next verse. And I stirred, the calmness like a slow moving sludge over my mind, not comprehending the situation as I turned to see why she had stopped mid-song.

  Blood dripped from the scaffold turned altar.

  Chapter 68

  Francesca stood with her mouth still open from the last note, her breath coming in a choking gasp. She dropped her eyes see the silver point of a knife protruding from her stomach, the blade pointing upwards, glinting in the sunlight. In that moment, all I could think about how picturesque it all was—how the dark obsidian below complemented the red, the blue sky passing off its dominion to the up-reaching coliseum, her frozen face contrasting the wicked smile of the Matteo behind her. Then he twisted the knife, and her hollow scream shattered the serenity left behind by Silver Tongue song, her face too shocked for tears as she fell to her knees.

  “This day will be remembered as the beginning!” Matteo shouted to all in attendance, resting a boot on her shoulder, the tips of his tattoo showing from where his sleeve had ripped off in the crash landing. A bruise formed over one of his eyes, his nose crooked, and crimson streaks soaked the tears in his clothing from his encounter with the tree branches outside the coliseum. “Today, today, is when the Specials first stumbled. It is when their heartbeat faltered, and they felt their first taste of fear. I will be remembered for today, and the history books will hold my name as the bringer of change, while yours shall be erased.”

  “Matteo, stop!” Arial shouted, and alighted on the lip of the coliseum behind him. It was where he had jumped to Francesca’s platform after scaling the outside, sneaking along while her song held us in its grasp. Even if he had walked right past us, we wouldn’t have noticed him any more than a passing butterfly, and from outside the focus of the circle of the choir, he’d escaped the song’s influence.

  If he could be affected at all, considering his ability.

  Matteo’s head swiveled her way, and he spoke, his voice cold.

  “I take no commands from a Special, least of all one that’s a traitor.”

  “Listen to me! You have options!” Arial cried, and floated towards him. But as she neared the scaffold, Matteo stretched his arm towards her from the edge, and she dipped as her power faltered.

  “No closer,” he growled, and twisted the knife again, sobs finally overcoming shock for Francesca.

  Arial raised her hands, showing them to be empty, and her voice turned soft.

  “I understand what it’s like, to be abused by Specials,” she said, straining to maintain her height that close to him. “What I said about my father was no lie. There are times where he’s been wretched. I’ve had my mind controlled by one Special, and my body controlled by another. There are awful ones, terrible ones out there. But there are good ones too.”

  She gesture
d to me below, then Lucio and Ennia behind before continuing.

  “I agree with you that something needs to be done. And what you’ve discovered with Divi is incredible, world changing, miraculous. But there’s no reason we can’t coexist, no reason why we can’t fight for change. I think you’d be surprised how many would join the fight with you, us included.”

  We nodded, and in my mind, I started tracing the route of the closest medical clinic to the subway back home. Once Arial convinced Matteo to free Francesca, we’d have to fly there immediately. Here, with Divi still hiding somewhere, would be far too dangerous. And with every moment, Francesca lost more blood.

  “You want to join the fight with us?” Matteo asked, pausing, his expression slackening. “You mean that? You’re serious?”

  “Absolutely,” said Arial as the rest of us nodded.

  “Then there’s only one way,” he answered, almost nonchalant. “Kill the Specials.”

  The next moment happened in slow motion as he extended his foot on Francesca’s shoulder, pushing her off the edge of the scaffold with little more than a tap. She topped forwards, screaming as her hair streamed behind her, the knife still lodged in her stomach. Arial dashed forwards to catch her, then fell hard against the top of the scaffold as she entered Matteo’s nullification radius, rolling to a stop just before the edge.

  Francesca’s choir robes fluttered behind her as she fell, flapping against the wind, her arms spread out as if she could fly on her own. I threw a forcepoint in desperation, trying to catch the area above her, to slow her fall down to the freshly formed obsidian. But she was too far from me and falling too fast—for a moment, her robes caught my power, and her direction veered right, but she exited the range of the point before it could hold her back.