He says to Issus: “I’ve killed gods. I’ve killed friends. I’ve killed the man I was. But I will not trade my son for a planet that never learned to love its own children.”
Dejah walks to him. She doesn’t speak. She just takes his hand.
That is the wound the sequel will not heal—it will only cauterize. A psychic scream rips through Carter’s mind: Dejah . He falls to his knees, blood from his nose, and sees through her eyes: the sky over Helium is turning black. Not with clouds—with ships. Ships made of obsidian and bone. At their helm, a figure robed in light-devouring silence: Issus , the so-called Goddess of Death, revealed not as a myth but as a cosmic parasite. She feeds on the psychic residue of dying civilizations. And Barsoom, after a decade of civil war, is ripe.
They just didn’t know it yet.
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