CHAPTER 1: Marching Ants

Is it fate that destiny occurs?

From the bottom of the grassy hill, Khronos stared up at their father standing beside Uncle Maerik, both dressed in armor, their silhouettes dark against the yellow-orange sky. They had been speaking for some time, occasionally pointing toward the plains beyond.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Khronos turned.

His older brother, Khaos, sat in the grass with his arms folded, watching him with the irritating expression he wore whenever he believed himself wiser than everyone else.

“Think about what?”

“Going up there.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You were.”

Khronos scowled.

Khaos was nine eclipses old, three more than him, and seemed to believe those extra eclipses entitled him to command everyone younger than himself.

“Father said to stay here,” Khaos reminded him.

“I heard him.”

“Then stay.”

Khronos looked toward the hilltop.

Whatever they were discussing, it seemed important.

And important things were precisely the sort of things Khronos wanted to know about.

“I only want to see.”

“You’ll get a lashing!”

“Coward,” Khronos muttered.

The grass grew slicker as the hill steepened. He climbed carefully, crouching whenever his father’s head turned in his direction. A breeze swept across the hillside, carrying the smell of damp earth and something unfamiliar.

From above came the low murmur of voices.

“…Impossible…”

That was Uncle Maerik.

“…honor… sacrifice…”

His father’s voice.

“…freedom…”

Khronos crept closer.

“…death.”

He stopped.

Death?

He knew what death was. Everyone did. Old people died. Sick people died. Soldiers died in stories.

But his father was speaking about it as though it were something expected, like the coming moon.

Curiosity overcame his unease.

He took another step.

And the world opened before him.

Beyond the hill stretched an immense plain, its grass trampled beneath an approaching army. Rows of armored men extended farther than Khronos could follow. Spears rose like a forest of silver needles, and banners swayed above them.

He had seen soldiers before.

He had seen hundreds.

But never this.

“WOOOAAAH!”

Both men turned.

Maerik’s hand flew to his sword.

“Khronos!”

The boy barely had time to smile before his uncle seized him by the arm.

“What did I tell you?”

“Ow! Uncle Maerik!”

“What did your father tell you?”

“I just wanted—”

“You were ordered to stay!”

Maerik dragged him down the slope.

The grass betrayed them almost immediately.

Maerik slipped, caught himself, slipped again, and landed hard on his backside, taking Khronos down with him.

“FUCK THE GODS!”

Khronos would have laughed if his arm hadn’t hurt so much.

His uncle scrambled upright, muttering curses that would have earned Khronos a beating had he repeated them.

Khaos was waiting.

Of course he was.

Maerik released Khronos with a shove that sent him sprawling into the grass.

“That hurt!” Khronos protested.

“As intended.”

Khronos rubbed his arm, fighting the tears gathering in his eyes.

Khaos watched without saying anything.

His expression was perfectly innocent.

His eyes were not.

At least I was brave enough to try.

Khronos stuck out his tongue.

“Maerik.”

Their father’s voice came from above.

“Leave the boy.”

Kallikrates descended the hill with measured steps. His armor gleamed beneath the fading sunlight, and the magnificent sword at his hip swung gently with his movements.

Khronos had always thought his father looked most impressive in armor.

Today, however, something about him seemed different.

He looked tired.

“You are far too forgiving,” Maerik complained. “The boy has no discipline.”

Kallikrates glanced at Khronos.

“And yet he has curiosity.”

“Curiosity will get him killed.”

“Perhaps. But ignorance has killed far more.”

Maerik grunted.

Kallikrates approached his son and knelt.

“Come here, Khronos.”

Khronos rose, brushing grass from his clothes.

“Are you angry?”

“Should I be?”

Khronos considered lying.

“Yes.”

His father smiled.

“Then why did you disobey me?”

“I wanted to see the army.”

“And what did you see?”

Khronos’s face brightened.

“Thousands of soldiers! Maybe more! They looked like ants, Father! Marching ants!”

Kallikrates glanced toward the hill.

For a moment, his smile faded.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “I suppose they do.”

“Are we going to fight them?”

Maerik looked away.

Kallikrates rested a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“Not if we can help it.”

“Could you beat them?”

His father studied him.

“Would that make you happy?”

Khronos nodded eagerly.

“I would tell everyone!”

Kallikrates laughed softly, but something sad passed through his eyes.

“Then I hope you’ll have many other things to tell them.”

He pulled Khronos close and kissed his forehead.

“Listen carefully. You and your brother are going to travel with Uncle Maerik. I need you to obey him, no matter what he tells you. Can you do that?”

Khronos looked at Maerik.

His uncle stood nearby, arms folded, still wearing the expression of a man who would happily administer another lashing.

“Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

“But I want to stay with you.”

“I know.”

“Then let me.”

“I cannot.”

“Why?”

Kallikrates hesitated.

Khronos disliked that hesitation more than the answer.

“Because I need you somewhere safe.”

“But I’m brave!”

He raised his arm and flexed.

“Look!”

His father laughed.

“I know you are.”

“Strong too!”

“Very strong.”

“Almost as strong as you!”

“Almost.”

Khronos grinned.

Kallikrates drew him into another embrace, holding him a little longer this time.

“I love you, son.”

“I love you too, Father.”

When his father released him, Khronos felt strangely cold.

Kallikrates turned to Khaos.

His older brother immediately straightened.

“Khaos.”

“Yes, Father.”

“You are everything your brother is not.”

Khronos frowned.

That sounded unfair.

“And your brother is everything you are not,” Kallikrates continued. “There is strength in both of you, though neither of you understands it yet.”

Khaos listened intently.

“I am trusting you to look after him until I return. Will you do that?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Even when he disobeys you?”

Khaos glanced at Khronos and remained silent.

Kallikrates smiled.

He pulled Khaos close and kissed his forehead.

Khaos accepted the embrace without complaint, though his cheeks reddened.

“I love you, son.”

“I love you too, Father.”

Behind them, Maerik exhaled sharply.

“You shouldn’t deceive them.”

Khronos looked at his uncle.

“Deceive us?”

Kallikrates rose.

“What would you have me do Maerik?”

“Tell them the truth.”

“And what truth would comfort them?”

Maerik didn’t answer.

Khronos looked between the two men.

“What truth?”

Neither answered.

Before he could ask again, someone called from the direction of the encampment.

“Kal!”

Waltz Thunderbolt approached with Khronos’s mother Euphraeta, and several marked soldiers.

Khronos recognized Waltz immediately. His dark robes swayed around his legs, and his expression carried the peculiar calm of someone who always knew more than he cared to say.

His mother, however, was looking only at his father.

“The kingdom’s main army has halted its advance,” Waltz announced. “A convoy bearing the king’s messenger banner approaches from the east.”

Kallikrates nodded.

“Then we have a little time.”

“Very little,” Euphraeta said.

She crossed the remaining distance between them.

“My love, the children must leave.”

“They will.”

“Now, Kal.”

He reached for her hands.

“The king’s messengers have arrived. They will not attack while negotiations are underway.”

“Do you trust that?”

“No.”

“Then—”

“But I trust that even a king must consider the consequences of violating sacred custom.”

Waltz raised an eyebrow.

“An optimistic interpretation.”

Kallikrates gave him a faint smile.

“From you, I’ll take that as praise.”

He turned to the soldiers.

“Prepare the children’s carriage.”

They hurried away.

Khronos watched his father draw his mother into an embrace.

They kissed.

Khaos made a disgusted noise.

Khronos turned away, then immediately looked back.

He had seen them kiss hundreds of times. Usually, it was embarrassing.

This time, neither seemed willing to let go.

When they finally separated, Kallikrates rested his forehead against hers.

“Go with them, my love.”

Euphraeta closed her eyes.

“No.”

The word was soft.

But everyone heard it.

Kallikrates stepped back.

“Euphraeta.”

“I am staying.”

“That is not what we agreed.”

“I know.”

“Our children need you.”

“They need us both.”

“And if we both remain?”

She held his gaze.

“Then we remain together.”

Khronos felt a strange tightening in his stomach.

His father rarely became angry. He had seen him command soldiers, settle disputes, and confront men twice his size without raising his voice.

But now his jaw tightened.

“My love, I beg you. Take our children and go.”

Euphraeta shook her head.

“No.”

Maerik spat into the grass.

Waltz watched them for a moment before speaking.

“She may be right.”

Kallikrates turned.

“Waltz.”

“Her abilities could make the difference between holding the army moments and half a sun.”

“I know what she can do.”

“Then you know what her absence could cost.”

Kallikrates stared at him.

In the distance, horns began to sound.

Across the encampment, marked soldiers hurried between tents and wagons. Some carried bundles of supplies. Others helped elderly men and women into carriages. Children ran beside them, calling to one another.

The noise unsettled Khronos.

Everyone seemed to know something he didn’t.

Finally, his father looked back at Euphraeta.

“Very well.”

She exhaled.

“Say farewell to our sons.”

Euphraeta nodded.

She turned toward Khronos.

And suddenly her eyes were full of tears.

He had seen his mother angry.

He had seen her laughing.

He had seen her summon beasts so enormous that grown soldiers scattered in terror.

He had never seen her look quite so small.

“My beautiful boy.”

She knelt and pulled him against her.

Khronos wrapped his arms around her neck.

She smelled of flowers, leather, and the familiar warmth of home.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you too, Mother.”

She kissed his forehead.

“Be strong. Listen to Uncle Maerik. And take care of your brother.”

“Khaos is older.”

“Then make certain he remembers it.”

Khronos giggled.

His mother smiled, but tears continued down her cheeks.

“Why are you crying?”

“Because I shall miss you terribly.”

“Then come with us.”

She brushed his hair away from his eyes.

“I cannot, my love.”

“Why?”

“Because your father needs me.”

“I need you also.”

Her smile faltered.

For a moment she said nothing.

Then she took his face gently between her hands.

“Listen. In a few suns and moons, your father and I will find you. And when we do, we’ll travel together, just as we promised.”

“All the Five-Lands?”

“All of them.”

“The deserts?”

“Yes.”

“The forests?”

“Yes.”

“The mountains that touch the sky?”

“Even those.”

“And the Crownlands?”

She laughed through her tears.

“And the Crownlands.”

Khronos smiled.

“Promise?”

His mother’s expression changed.

Only for a heartbeat.

“I promise to do everything I can.”

It wasn’t quite the answer he wanted.

But he accepted it.

She turned to Khaos.

“Did you hear that? We’re going to see the whole world.”

Khaos looked away.

“I’m not a fool like him.”

Khronos fidgeted.

“I’m not a fool!”

“Then stop acting like one!”

“Dit-twit face!”

“Enough!”

Their mother rose.

Khaos folded his arms as she approached.

“Come here, my strong boy.”

“I don’t want to.”

She embraced him anyway.

He resisted for a moment, stiff and embarrassed, before his arms slowly settled around her.

Euphraeta closed her eyes.

“I love you, Khaos.”

He said nothing.

She kissed his forehead.

“I know you love me too.”

Khaos turned away.

Khronos thought he saw his brother wipe his face.

But before he could tease him, their father spoke.

“There is something I wish to give you.”

Khronos turned.

Kallikrates unfastened the sword from his waist.

It was the most beautiful weapon Khronos had ever seen.

The hilt held a brilliant blue jewel, with another green stone set beneath it. When his father drew the blade, sunlight shot in every which direction blinding Khronos momentarily.

His father repositioned the blade of the sword, which was made completely of glass, so that Khronos could see his face.

His green eyes stared back at him.

Black hair.

Open mouth.

A grin spreading from ear to ear.

His father lowered the sword.

“This belongs to you now, Khronos.”

For a moment, Khronos forgot how to speak.

“Your sword?”

Kallikrates nodded.

“Your real sword?”

“Yes.”

“The one you fight with?”

His father smiled and nodded.

Khronos looked at Khaos.

His brother was staring at the weapon.

Khronos tried not to smile.

He failed.

“It is called the mirror sword.”

“The mirror sword,” Khronos repeated testing the words.

“It has served me through many battles. And one day, if you prove worthy, it may serve you.”

“What does it do?”

His father knelt.

“Something extraordinary.”

“Show me!”

Kallikrates shook his head.

“The sword demands more from its wielder than strength. It demands discipline, judgment, and respect. Until you possess those things, this sword will only bring you turmoil.”

Khronos barely heard him.

He was imagining himself standing atop a mountain, sword raised, an entire army cheering his name.

“Will Uncle Maerik teach me?”

“He will teach both of you.”

Khaos perked up.

“Both?”

“Yes.”

Khronos grinned.

“I’ll be better!”

Khaos’s face darkened.

“Why does he get your sword?”

The question silenced them.

Khaos looked from the weapon to his father.

“I’m older. And I follow orders.”

“I know.”

“Then why him?”

Kallikrates studied his eldest son.

Before he could answer, Euphraeta reached into her hair.

She untied the long red ribbon that held it in place.

Her hair fell loose around her shoulders.

“Perhaps,” she said, “because I have something for you.”

Khaos stared at the ribbon.

His expression soured.

“A ribbon?”

“Yes.”

“He gets a magical sword, and I get a girl’s ribbon?”

Euphraeta examined it thoughtfully.

“You’re right. It does seem terribly unfair.”

His mother leaned closer.

“But what if I told you this ribbon has a power of its own?”

Khaos hesitated.

“What power?”

Euphraeta turned the ribbon between her fingers.

A circular symbol had been threaded into the fabric.

She opened her right palm, revealing the burn-like mark upon her skin.

Khronos leaned forward.

The symbols were identical.

“You know this mark,” she said.

Khaos nodded.

“And you know that my people recognize me by this ribbon.”

“Yes.”

“Then consider what it means to carry it.”

Khaos frowned.

His mother lowered her voice.

“Among our people, it is a symbol of command. Whomever carries this ribbon carries the authority over our people.”

Khaos looked toward his father.

Kallikrates nodded solemnly.

Euphraeta continued.

“A sword may make others fear your strength. But a leader must earn something far more difficult.”

“What?”

“The willingness of others to follow.”

She held out the ribbon.

“So, tell me, my son. Would you rather possess a sword, a grown man’s toy and excuse to swing something, or the symbol of a commander?”

Khaos tried to suppress his smile.

Khronos watched in disbelief, his cheeks reddening and a smile forming.

Khaos reached for the ribbon.

“No!” Kallikrates cried dramatically. “Not the ribbon! Anything but the ribbon!”

Khaos laughed.

Euphraeta laughed.

Even Maerik’s mouth twitched.

Khronos frowned.

His mother placed the ribbon into Khaos’s palm and closed his fingers around it.

“Keep it safe, my beautiful boy.”

Khaos nodded.

My sword is better, Khronos decided.

Much better.

Something struck him from behind.

“Hey!”

A little girl with bright green hair hurried past him, nearly knocking him off balance.

“Use your eyes, dit-twit!”

She ignored him.

She stopped in front of his father.

“Commander!”

His father turned.

The girl couldn’t have been much older than him.

“Are we going to win?”

His father knelt.

“What do you think?”

She hesitated.

“I don’t know.”

“Then perhaps we should ask a different question.”

“What question?”

“What can we do, whether we win or lose?”

Khronos bounced forward.

“I know, Father!”

Kallikrates gave him a look.

He fell silent.

The girl thought for a moment.

“Fight?”

“Perhaps.”

Kallikrates smiled.

“We can try our very best.”

The girl thought long and hard and finally smiled.

“I have heard something remarkable about you. They say you can communicate with Mother Aouruoa.”

The girl’s face brightened.

“Yes!”

Khronos stared.

“I can hear her sometimes,” the girl continued. “But I don’t know how to make it happen.”

“That is all right.”

“What if I never learn?”

Kallikrates gently raised her chin.

“Then you will have spent your life learning. There is no shame in that.”

She smiled faintly.

“Remember, little one. There will always be dark skies. But the light will always come back around.”

The girl nodded and ran off, barely even paying attention towards the end of his words.

She hurried away.

Khronos watched her disappear among the wagons.

Whatever gift she possessed, it couldn’t possibly be more magnificent than his sword.

A horn sounded.

Then another.

The camp stirred with renewed urgency.

His father rose to his feet.

“My love,” he said to his mother, “we have delayed long enough.”

She nodded.

“Take the children to their carriage. See that the marked-ones are prepared to continue toward the Dead-Lands. And then return to those to who’ve volunteered to stay behind and fight.”

“And you?”

Kallikrates looked toward Waltz.

“The king’s messengers will arrive shortly. Waltz and I will hear them.”

Maerik stepped forward.

“Permission to accompany you.”

Kallikrates frowned.

“You are responsible for the children.”

“I am the fastest man in Aouruoa. Five-Lands or Dead-Lands. I will catch their caravan before it reaches the next vantage point.”

Kallikrates studied him.

“You wish to meet the king?”

“He nodded with a smile.”

Waltz sighed.

“I suspect the king will regret even extended the grace of a surrender.”

His father stared up the grassy seeming to look beyond it.

“Very well, Captain. It would be my honor to have you at my side.”

Khronos looked from one man to the other.

“Father?”

Kallikrates turned.

“When will you come back?”

The question seemed to catch him unprepared.

He looked at Khronos, then Khaos.

For a moment, the noise of the encampment seemed to fade around them.

His father approached and placed a hand on each boy’s shoulder.

“Whatever happens,” he said, “I want you both to remember something.”

Khronos nodded.

Khaos stood perfectly still.

“You are brothers. The world may ask many things of you. It may ask you to fight, to flee, to lead, or to follow. But never allow it to convince you that you must become enemies or that you do not possess the power to change your circumstances.”

Khronos looked at Khaos.

His brother looked back.

“Your lives belong to you. Never surrender that truth to anyone.”

He kissed each of them once more.

And then stepped away.

Euphraeta took their hands.

“Come, my loves.”

Khronos resisted.

“Father!”

Kallikrates stopped.

“Will you win?”

His father looked at him for a long moment. And then behind him and the encampment and something beyond.

At last, his father smiled.

“Were you listening when I spoke to the girl?”

His father chuckled.

Khronos didn’t understand.

He wanted to ask another question, but his mother was already leading him away.

He looked back.

His father stood beside Maerik and Waltz, three figures beneath the vast evening sky.

From a distance, they seemed very small.

Almost like the soldiers beyond the hill.

Khronos tightened his grip around the sheath of his new sword and turned toward the 4-horse carriage in the distance.

He had a magical sword.

His brother had a ribbon.

And his mother had promised they would see the world.

Everything would be all right. They would be together again soon. Him, his father, his brother and his mother.

Behind him, the horns sounded, and shouts and commands ruled over the silence.