For as long as Cian could remember, he had always loved the scent his home carried. He grew up surrounded by flowers and budding greenery, their natural smells perfuming Fallen Petal. When he and Keegan had first arrived home, he had taken the largest of inhales, allowing his lungs to once again be filled with the scent of peace. This time is different. He did not know what to think when, instead of breathing in the familiar scent, a repugnant smell made him scrunch his nose in disgust.

  Death, decay—Cian remembers when he once went exploring around the vicinity of The Cornucopia, and came across a hare that had been discarded by whatever predator took its life. The smell from the rotting body had almost been enough to make him wretch, and it clung to his clothes hours after. What invaded his lungs was similar, yet he knew it was far worse. He watched the way the ridge of his uncle’s jaw grew taut, his face becoming stony as he commanded their party to halt.

  “We must get off the road,” Bomin ordered, and his people were quick to obey. They guided their carts and horses off the dirt path, traveling farther into the grassy field alongside the road. The soldiers were careful to cover their tracks so anyone traversing their way would not know of their party wandering off course.

  A sense of unease traveled through them, with Keegan the most eager to understand what was happening. “Why did we need to leave the road?” He asked, disrupting Bomin’s quiet brooding. “Does it pertain to the smell? It’s a horrid scent.”

  Bomin did not respond to his son; his mind was elsewhere as Kumo urged his horse closer so he could speak to him. Keegan was never one to be ignored when he was feeling disgruntled. Before he could become insolent, Cian kicked him with his foot. Keegan turned on him, intending to reprimand him, but Cian motioned for him to be quiet and to listen to what their father and Kumo were saying.

  “There is a small hill we can make camp behind,” Kumo said. “I, and two other soldiers of my choosing, will scout ahead after.”

  Bomin’s voice was grave as he responded, “Do not engage any enemies should you see them. Observe silently, and don’t fear telling me the truth of what you’ll see. I already know.”

  They had been two miles shy of completing the journey, and would have been home by the time it was early morning. Now, the sun was beginning to rise higher as they waited for Kumo and his band of two to come back. The tension in camp was palpable. Bomin kept secluded in his tent, resorting to prayer, his words silent as his lips moved without sound, while Keegan and Cian were left to occupy themselves, mostly Cian, trying to keep his brother from being eaten by worry.

  Keegan has always been the most overprotective of his family, to the point that it became an infliction. If he perceives a potential threat and is unable to do anything about the danger, his mind will become an endless loop of him needing to act. Action is all that Keegan knows to solve a problem, even when that is the opposite of what he should do. His irrational thoughts are the reason Cian, although it may seem inappropriate, enticed him with a good-natured game.

  “You have nothing better to do, so why not play with me?” Cian said, not the least bit discouraged as he set the chessboard down between them. Their carriage always carried a chessboard with all the pieces, as Bomin loved to pass the time while traveling, playing the game. He was a formidable opponent, and everyone would take turns playing against him, although the only one to be a genuine threat to him was Cian, even if he had yet to win. “Kumo has been gone for too long,” Keegan said, agitation coating his words as he dropped to sit on the ground. The boy’s face was twitching in tandem with his shaking leg.

  “Not long enough to warrant us to worry.” Cian meticulously placed each chess piece in its correct square. He put the white pieces on Keegan’s side whilst claiming the black for his own. They used to argue over who would go first, but over the years, Cian learned it was simpler to let Keegan initiate the game. “Besides, we must remember that Kumo is the master of shadows. Each move he makes is well thought out to the point it becomes tedious, but that’s how he remained undetected. He’ll take his time, and no one can rush him.”

  Keegan frowned. “Then at what point should we begin to worry?” His question was followed by his advancing the king’s pawn two squares. Cian did not immediately answer, his eyes surveying the board. He nudged the pawn near his left-side knight one square forward. “When uncle does.” Keegan opened his mouth, but shut it, his eyes flicking toward his father’s tent. Bomin was steadfast in his prayers, and Keegan wanted the man to continue praying, so his father’s words would be heard. He also wanted to go home to see his mother and their siblings.

  “I think we should go,” Keegan said, driving his queen’s knight out from behind its pawn. “Father can wait for Kumo, can wait for God, but I don’t think I can.”

  Cian scoffed, sliding his pawn before his queen one square forward. “If enemy forces have…occupied Fallen Petal, then what do you hope to achieve? A scrawny boy barely on the cusp of becoming a man is not very frightening.” He does not have to look up to know Keegan is glaring at him, but it is worth turning his brother’s aggressions on him. Cian is naturally foolhardy; it is in his blood to rush off and do whatever is pleasing to him in the moment, but the same could not be said about Keegan. At least, not by people who do not know him well. He can forget logic and reasoning when anger clouds his mind, and what precedes his rage is fear. Keegan cannot handle the fear of anything happening to his parents or siblings, so even if he had to face an army, the boy would do so to protect his family. Cian had to prevent such an outcome.

  White’s king’s knight was moved forward. “If it’s just the two of us, then I imagine we could sneak into the city and search for Mother and our younger siblings. There’s no need to face the enemy. It would be dangerous to involve them in a scuffle anyway, so I would want us to avoid detection.”

  “You make it seem simple,” Cian said, now reflecting Keegan’s frown from moments before. He brought his own king’s knight into the field. “We are not experienced enough for such an undertaking.”

  “I think we’ve experienced enough,” Keegan replied—the implication in his words heavy and wrought with a taste Cian would rather forget. He shoved the pawn before his queen’s bishop forward two squares. His brother kept hush after that, and they continued their game, the sun creeping over the horizon, lighting the world with the morning stripes. Cian had done well to prolong their match, making well-thought-out mistakes and allowing some of his pieces to be captured. Their board had thinned to a tight, uneven battlefield. Keegan’s king was trapped on the kingside behind his own scattered pawns, with only a single escape square left. His queen was too far off to be of any use, and his last knight lingered on the flank. Cian, meanwhile, had kept his king safe behind a wall of pawns and still commanded the center with his queen and a long-ranged bishop. Only one rook remained to him, but it was the only piece he needed. On Cian’s final turn, he moved the rook three squares along its rank. One more move and the game will have been had.

  “What’s happening?” Keegan asked, his queen stuck in the air over the board as he cocked his head before turning in the direction of the soldiers making noise. Cian stood up, his near victory forgotten as his eyes roamed over the small crowd. “Kumo has returned!”

  —————

  They gathered in his uncle’s tent: he, Keegan, Bomin, and Kumo. The latter had returned unharmed, as well as the two soldiers who had followed him, yet despite their lack of physical wounds, their souls had been cut. Ash, smoldering remains, and corpses littering the streets—this is how they found Fallen Petal. Their city was in ruins, and a band of three to four hundred enemy soldiers occupied its remains. Kumo had gone further into the city alone, searching for any signs that some of his people had survived what surely was a massacre, and he had grown despondent as everywhere he went, death greeted him. His worst discovery, albeit the most bizarre, was when he came to the city’s center. By the number of fellow Heartsease soldiers, Kumo gathered that the center had been the primary focus of battle. He gave swift, silent prayers over each deceased soldier he came across, but then his foot caught on what he thought was debris. Kumo would have ignored the chunk of rock had he not noticed that it was in the shape of a head, and not just any head. It was a sculpted image of Warden.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Kumo had picked up the head and immediately dropped it. His movements had caused what he thought was stone to crumble away, revealing the actual person underneath. It took him a moment to realize that the other stone pieces he saw were parts of his fallen brother, and that when he moved them, the stone covering the detached limbs fell away. A power of sinful cultivation Bomin had breathed out, and Kumo agreed. He left behind the remains and eventually made his way to the mansion, and during this part of his recounting, the sons and patriarch held their breaths.

  Kumo had thought the family he was sworn to protect had been executed, and that he would have to come back to his scions in duress, but then had caught a glimpse of Greatwife Mila. She appeared tired; ruffled around the edges, but otherwise was still breathing. Kumo only saw her, but if she is alive, then his younger scions might have been as well.

  “If I could have liberated Greatwife Mila and your other children, then I would have, but it was too dangerous. For as many foes as I can fight alone, just one would need to get past me, and I couldn’t take that risk.”

  “You did well, Kumo,” Bomin replied, putting a halt to the regret threatening to overtake the man. “Your judgment was sound, and now that we have an understanding of what has befallen our city, we know how to act.”

  “What is your command, my Patriarch?”

  “We must seek aid from Halo and Noctura. Our soldiers have been defeated, and if we are to reclaim Fallen Petal, we will need to borrow theirs. Go and tell the man to break camp. We are to leave the moment everyone is ready.”

  “We’re leaving mother behind!” Keegan exclaimed. Cian noted how the boy had both his hands clenched in fists and the way his body trembled. “What about Bedisa? Destin? Dove! We don’t know how the enemy has been treating them, yet we’re allowing them to remain in captivity?”

  Bomin looked at his son with all the patience of a father who knew his child was volatile when it came to his emotions. It did not surprise him that Keegan would protest; he did not understand, or more so, he did not want to see the logic behind his father’s decision. “It’s a necessary sacrifice if we want to see them again. If your mother is still alive, then they are holding her for a reason. It could be that they wish to use her as a shield to protect themselves or for bartering. Whatever their reason, they will undoubtedly keep her safe. To attempt to rescue her now will assuredly cost her life, or ours.”

  Keegan began to grind his teeth, his irritation increasing. The boy was distracted and did not expect the firm cuff upside his head. “Stop that,” Cian commanded. He did not flinch when Keegan turned his attention toward him, appearing equal parts offended and further aggravated. “Go outside and drink some water,” he said before Keegan could utter a sound. When Keegn seemed about to disobey, Cian raised his hand again, the threat evident. He received a look of disdain, yet it bothered him not, for the next moment Keegan left the tent in silent rage.

  Cian’s hand slowly lowered, and he breathed out a shaky breath. He did not understand how everything could have gone so wrong in such a short period of time. The outburst Keegan had been about to let loose is no different than the brewing emotions fluttering in his chest. How does a tribe remain so when they have lost their people? Can they even consider themselves a people anymore? A whole city, their home, had been torn away from them, so Cian could not blame Keegan for feeling so…eruptive. In truth, he wished to lash out as well, to argue with his uncle because, although the odds would be against them, why not attempt to save the ones they love? It hurt him to think of what cruelty they faced at the hands of an enemy willing to subjugate others through demonic means, yet he had to remain diligent in mind. He is the heir now, and his uncle will look to him for support. If it can ease the weight on his uncle’s shoulders, he will gladly reprimand Keegan on his uncle's behalf, whilst swallowing his anguish at the situation.

  “I’ll keep an eye on him,” Cian said.

  “See that you do, because remember what I’ve said before. Your brother loves us with all his heart, and there is nothing he wouldn’t give to see us safe. Especially now…”

  Cian nodded before leaving the tent as well.

  —————

  Keegan continued to grumble under his breath as he marched through the tall grass of the open field. He had done what Cian ordered him to—drink water—and it had been while he drank that the light from the morning sun glinted on the hilt of his sword. It seemed like a heavenly call for him to grab his blade, along with his pouch that he had restocked with his poisons. He weighed both weapons in his hands, and in that instant, a decision was made. His father lacked the courage to retrieve his mother and siblings, but Keegan was not of the same resolve. He fled from camp, being mindful not to be seen, and began his journey home. The boy had not gotten far before he heard the sound of someone running after him.

  “If you attempt to stop me, I’m obliged to fight you,” Keegan said in warning when Cian was close enough to hear him. He should have known Cian would be only too happy to test his words, yet he managed to side-step the tackle that had aimed to knock him down. “You can’t fight an army on your own!” Cian shouted, raising himself off the ground and moving to confront Keegan again.

  “I don’t intend to fight them,” Keegan argued, turning around to keep Cian within his line of sight. “I plan to sneak into the mansion and come out the same way, only with our loved ones following close behind.

  “Don’t you realize the trouble you will bring upon yourself? Your father is going to be more than angry; he will be wrath personified!”

  “You're the one who so readily goes against the wishes of those in authority over you. Why am I not allowed the same freedom?”

  Cian’s brows furrowed together. “I don’t put others’ lives in danger.”

  “Ah, I forgot Lake Kai had been meant to be a trip of leisure.”

  “That is unfair,” Cian retorted. “I had not been aware of the danger that would befall us, but you can’t say the same. You're intending on invading a nest of hornets with one or two of them wielding stingers otherworldly in their power.”

  Their continued circling wore a groove into the grass, and it was a wonder that they did not become dizzy. Not that it was an essential matter to the two boys. Their argument was more critical because whoever won would lead in a decision that would change their lives for better or worse, and Cian was desperate to win.

  “Come back with me to camp,” Cian pleaded. “Have faith in God that your father’s plans will bear fruit. Trust that we will see them again.”

  Keegan’s answer was a decisive one.

  He unsheathed his sword and brandished it in Cian’s direction. “I’m going, and I refuse to let you stop me.”

  Cian’s shoulders slumped, yet he did not hesitate to charge at Keegan, his direct assault deceiving the other into thinking it would be another simple side-step to evade him. This time, Cian accounted for that, mimicking Keegan’s movement at the same time, withdrawing his knife. Unlike with their fight for the heirship, Cian had no reservations here, not when it meant keeping Keegan from doing something so brazenly idiotic. In a few swift, short moves, he knocked Keegan onto his back and pinned him with his knife to his throat—the boy’s sword knocked away.

  “Fine!” Keegan shouted, spittle raining from his mouth as he looked up at Cian with a mix of fury and distress.”Why did I think I could ever best you? You, the prodigy, the heir, the brother with sense! I can’t beat you, yet I felt I could save them, help them, and protect the remnants of our tribe. Everyone else is dead. Kumo told us, and he isn’t a man to lie. We are the tribe now, but I shouldn’t be bothered with the responsibility that you so graciously earned. I lost. I lost here. I lost at the Colosseum. I would have lost the moment I breached Fallen Petal’s boundary. Father knew, and you know, so take me back. Take me back and be the son of my father’s right hand while I stand aside! I… I just want my family.”

  Keegan did not weep. His eyes remained harsh, albeit broken, but he did not weep, and Cian felt like doing so on his behalf. A raging wave of guilt crashed into his core being, and it caused him to stumble away. The words his brother spoke were said in anger, but none of them were false. His brother always spoke in truths to hurt others whenever he was angry enough, and perhaps Cian was just too gullible. Keegan was no wordsmith, yet that did not stop him from untempering Cian’s resolve.

  Cian will always do what will calm his brother, even when it is the wrong thing to do.