Kairos made his triumphant entrance into Talos’ Cradle at midday.

The Foresight had docked on the fortress’ roof as if it were a port and offloaded troops to help maintain order. The surviving automatons had surrendered after their control rods’ destruction granted them back their free will, allowing Kairos’ soldiers to take over key areas.

The Travian King found the fortress’ upper levels heavily damaged. Ultor, who had taken the Cradle’s defenses as a personal challenge, had charged his way through every wall and door on his path. Agron and other troops had followed after him, destroying the Cradle’s cannons and demolishing its defenders.

The forges themselves were relatively intact. Kairos marveled as he entered the Cradle and explored its sprawling vaults. Crystals adorned stylized brass walls and immense copper ceilings, humming to the tune of mindless automaton blacksmiths hitting metalwork. Magical glyphs fueled furnaces with smokeless fire while ores were processed by machines of dizzying complexity. Even the battle outside hadn’t halted the production process.

The Cradle’s inhabitants were halfway through building a new batch of automaton soldiers before Kairos’ forces claimed it. The Travian King passed through a vault where a multitude of incomplete clockwork warriors waited on steel platforms, their incomplete chassis covering their copper bones. How many were there? Hundreds? Thousands?

The destructive potential of this place was frightening. It took months for human nations to recover from their losses, sometimes years.

The Cradle could produce a new army each week.

It’s a tempting prize, Kairos thought. He felt a strong urge to claim these infrastructures for his personal use. Armies of mindless machines would reduce casualties among his men and allow him to control the Thessalan League for decades to come; maybe even challenge other great empires like Alexandria. No doubt Mithridates had thought along the same lines.

But Kairos would never turn his back on the promise of a better world. One that did not rely on enslaving people like Talos to preserve peace.

After a tour of the facility, Kairos asked the surrendering automatons to select leaders among themselves to discuss terms on the Foresight’s deck. At the same time, Hybris and other amphibious forces had recovered Talos’ core and transported it to the Cradle. This device, the very vessel of Talos’ soul, took the shape of a diamond eye two meters wide in diameter. Each of its seven facets shone with a color from the rainbow, red and yellow and indigo.

Its beauty was only matched by its power. Talos’ core had to be bound with magical chains and wards to prevent it from influencing other automatons in its surroundings.

“Still no progress?” Kairos asked Thales. His engineer had spent the last hour trying to reach out to his creator’s mind and hopefully free him from Mithridates’ control.

“Lord Talos’ spirit remains shackled by his control rod,” Thales replied, though his tone was cautiously optimistic. “My modified version temporarily allowed him to regain his mind so I know freedom is possible. Maybe a shell… with enough time…”

“You have it,” Andromache said while standing at Kairos’ side. The nymph was breastfeeding Nessia and clearly took great pleasure in it. After the intense battle, Kairos found this simple display of domesticity soothing to the soul. “He cannot break my wards in his current state. By crushing his will, Mithridates prevents his machine thrall from using his intelligence to his full potential.”

Kairos had assumed as much. Talos had fought them with a single-minded focus and brutality that contrasted with his reputation as a famous inventor. Mithridates couldn’t allow his puppet to think strategically without risking him cutting off the strings.

Hybris, ever the brutal pragmatist, had suggested that they let Thales break Talos’ core to take his power; a proposal that the likes of Agron and Labienus had echoed. Mithridates still had powerful allies in the form of Zama and Romulus, and a new [Demigod] would give Kairos’ army a clear advantage in the battle to come.

Thales had shot the proposal down, however. In spite of his banishment, the engineer still desired his creator to live. Kairos too saw a long-term better option than a short-lived power grab.

Julia soon arrived with Agron and Cassandra to the Foresight’s deck. They escorted a trio of automatons elected by their kindred as intermediaries. All of them looked at Thales and Talos’ core with wariness.

“King Kairos.” One of the spokespeople took a step forward on behalf of his kindred. “I am Euclid of Thessala, an overseer model of the Thessala militia. What remains of it at least.”

“Euclid is technically the highest-ranked official in the fallen Thessala’s military,” Cassandra explained to Kairos. “Short of Talos himself of course.”

“Greetings.” Kairos welcomed the automatons with a nod. “We may have fought as enemies, but I bear you no ill will. You were victims of Mithridates, and I hope we can now work together to unseat him and free your master from his control.”

“It is our wish as well.” Euclid gazed at Talos’ core. “We worried that you would shatter Lord Talos’ heart. The crimes of the Thales unit against Thessala are well-known.”

Thales straightened up. “I have fought for my freedom and the pursuit of science. I will never regret doing so, but I never once sought to harm my homeland.”

“You can thank him for your master’s survival, Euclid,” Julia added. “Many among us were eager to claim Talos’ [Legend] for themselves, but Thales’ wise words stayed our hand.”

Euclid answered with a wary nod. “We are grateful, but… what do you intend to do with our home and father? Must we submit to your will?”

“Here is my offer.” Kairos extended a hand in the automatons’ direction. “Work with us to bring down Mithridates and acknowledge me as your king. In exchange, I will return Talos’ core to you and allow you to rebuild Thessala as a city of my federation. You will receive autonomy in exchange for military service and citizenship.”

Euclid’s chin rose up in surprise. “Would you relinquish Lord Talos’ core back to our care?”

“After we find his control rod and destroy it, yes. There are no slaves in Travia. Not even [Demigods].”

Julia added another condition. “Thales’ exile will also be repealed and his crimes forgiven.”

Though Thales was left speechless by the proposal, Euclid immediately voiced his skepticism. “The laws of Thessala say that no automaton may create another automaton, except our father Talos.”

“There is no such law in Travia,” Kairos replied. “Thales has committed no crime in our federation.”

“The laws—”

“Are in contradiction with the Travian constitution,” Kairos cut Euclid off. “If Thessala is to rise again, it will have to adapt to it. Just as no mother is forbidden from having children in our realm, no automaton will be denied the right to create another. All are equal before our laws. Nor will slavery of any kind be tolerated. Control rods are now forbidden under the pain of death.”

Euclid turned to face his fellow automaton diplomats, before returning his focus to Kairos. “Please, allow us a moment to confer between ourselves.”

Kairos granted them their wish with grace. The automaton diplomats formed a circle, their cristal eyes blinking in a code of light only machines could understand.

“Your Majesty, Lady Julia, you shouldn’t have,” Thales protested. “I care not for amnesty.”

“I do,” Julia replied. “All efforts deserve recognition, Thales. Even if you believe they do not matter to you now, your example will inspire new generations of your kind. Would you rather be reviled as a criminal or admired as a pioneer?”

“But—”

Agron growled with frustration. “Thales, you fool, take the boon with grace! You turn modesty into a vice!”

Cassandra smiled. “You deserve the honor, Thales. Even if you feel unworthy of it.”

Even the Foresight let out a growl of assent.

“I…” Thales fidgeted in embarrassment. “I… I thank you for your support. All of you.”

“You are welcome,” Kairos replied. “You are part of our crew.”

“Yes… yes, I am.” Thales’ voice broke as he said those words. “When I left Thessala for Travia, I thought… I thought I was on my own. That I would toil in solitude forevermore. But with your help I have achieved things I never thought possible… and I will be ever so grateful.”

The automaton diplomats soon stopped their deliberations. Their answer wasn’t the one Kairos had expected.

“Your terms were deemed unacceptable,” Euclid declared.

Kairos squinted, his officers tensing up as if expecting a fight to break out. “You refuse my offer?”

“We are bound by the laws of the city Thessala,” Euclid said. “The city’s destruction did not free us from our oath. Lord Talos pledged to serve the will of the city’s human Archons and their laws.”

Agron scoffed in disdain. “All your Archons are dead and buried.”

“Yes, we concur. Therefore, as the last representatives of Thessala, we have voted to confer the title of Archon to King Kairos of Travia.”

Kairos laughed. “I can’t break the laws if I make them?”

“We believe it to be a satisfactory compromise considering the goodwill you showed us,” Euclid said. “You have allowed our people to choose our path when you could have taken our freedom, and spared Lord Talos when you could have claimed his power. We shall not be ungrateful. We ask that you create a new constitution for our city, one that will fit with your federation.”

“I shall. And I promise that we will run democratic elections for your people as soon as Mithridates is out of the picture. Until then, I ask that you lend us your strength.”

The diplomats pledged their support in the battle for Pergamon before dispersing to inform their fellow automatons of their decision.

“Congratulations, husband.” Julia smiled ear to ear. “You have won a new army, and maybe another as well soon.”

“I still think we would have been better off with another [Demigod],” Agron said gruffly before frowning at the Queen’s words. “Another army, you say?”

“Thanks to Aglaonice, I have managed to create a secure magical contact line with Teuta’s second-in-command,” Julia explained. “A certain Castor Epulon.”

“I remember him,” Kairos said with distaste. He didn’t miss Cassandra tensing up at the mention of the man’s name. After all, he had tried to convince her to run away with him once. “He acted as an agent provocateur for Teuta.”

“Out of loyalty for her, and she is dead,” Julia replied. “I informed him of his master’s demise and found him open to discussion. Words of your mercy to Orthia, Mithridates’ infamous reputation for throwing his allies to the wolves at the slightest provocation, and tales of the Beast Cult’s involvement in the Thessalan army have eroded his goodwill for our enemies’ cause. No [Hero] who allied with Mithridates has ever come out better for it.”

The Poison Emperor had no friends, only slaves, and pawns. His strategy of sending allies to their death and ruling through fear had allowed him to gain short-term successes, but in the long-term cost him his allies’ trust.

“The fruit of betrayal is ripe,” Julia concluded. “We only have to prove generous to pluck it.”

Andromache snorted. “If we forgive traitors we only invite further betrayal.”

“Agreed,” Agron said. “We should have killed Castor in Histria when we had the chance. We should correct that mistake and get rid of him in battle.”

The idea of forgiving someone who stabbed him in the back once like Castor disgusted Kairos too… but it was better than leaving thousands of soldiers to fight in Pergamon’s defense.

“Cassandra, what is your opinion?” Kairos asked his former second-in-command. “You know Castor better than anyone.”

Cassandra’s expression turned thoughtful as she considered her answer. “Do you remember your last conversation with Castor, Kairos?”

“I do.” Castor had walked out on Histria after the disastrous engagement with King Lysander’s Orthian fleet a year ago. Kairos had won this battle at a tremendous human cost. Cassandra herself had perished in the flames and risen again through the power of a phoenix’s feather. “He said that I was madder than the Furies. That I abandoned my men to their death.”

“A coward’s empty words,” Agron commented.

“He tried to make me run away with him using the same arguments,” Cassandra replied, “I believe he believed in them. Kairos, your methods scared him because your tactics were little better than Mithridates’. It formed a terrible first impression in the mind of many. This is your opportunity to correct it.”

Kairos’ jaw clenched in frustration. He almost blurted out that he had never thrown his men to their death like Mithridates did, before cooling off and considering Cassandra’s words.

From an outsider’s perspective, I looked like a terrible commander back then, Kairos thought as he conceded his friend’s point. He liked to think his motives had been purer than Mithridates, but it didn’t change the fact he had recklessly gambled with his people’s lives in his own quest for wealth and glory.

He had long suspected Castor of being an agent provocateur for Teuta sent to destabilize him but the man still made an oath of loyalty to the Furies when Kairos asked it of him. Few spies would have gone so far. Maybe Castor did consider supporting him for real, only to back off when Kairos’ decisions cost his people dearly.

To his surprise, Kairos realized that besides Castor joining Teuta’s side and participating in the Thalassocrator’s construction, he didn’t actually have anything truly personal against the man. He had made peace with far worse people, a list that included a monster like Hybris.

A teenager holds on to his grudges, but a grown man must think rationally, Kairos thought. I must think this over logically, without the emotional baggage of the past.

“I am against it,” Andromache declared. “Castor fought against us while his masters had the advantage and now cravenly begs for mercy. What will happen if we’re ever weak? Who says he won’t stab us in the back again if we let him in?”

“I took the risk when I gave you an olive branch too, Andromache.” Kairos looked at his daughter. “And it was the best decision I ever made.”

Andromache blushed slightly, her arms tightening around Nessia. Kairos had granted the nymph her freedom while she still harbored murderous thoughts toward him. She had come to his tent to murder him the very night he released her from magical oaths.

A year later, they had wed and Andromache had given Kairos a daughter. If the gods were good, she would give him another.

Kairos wouldn’t have children with Castor Epulon anytime soon, but revenge never ended any feud. Only mercy had that power.

“The priority is killing Mithridates and ending this war as quickly as possible,” Kairos declared, having made his choice. “Each piece removed on his side of the board serves our strategy. We do not have the luxury to be picky about our allies.”

Julia nodded in approval. “So I have your leave to negotiate, husband?”

Yes, she did. “If Teuta’s men return into our fold, I will grant them mercy. I shall confirm their existing possessions, Teuta’s assets will be distributed among her captains, and none of them shall receive punishment for their previous transgressions. They’ll be allowed back into Travia and if they fight with us to take Pergamon, I will even give them a share of the loot… so long as they fight at the vanguard.”

Agron smirked deviously. “I will be right behind them.”

“With Agron watching over his shoulder,” Julia mused, “it will take Castor more bravery to desert back to Mithridates than fight him.”

Kairos couldn’t help his chuckle at the joke, as did his officers.

His joy died when one of his mother’s guards came out of the Foresight’s hold with news. “Imperator, Lady Aurelia is asking for your presence. She says it is time.”

Kairos’ heart turned cold in his chest. Julia’s face darkened, as did Andromache and Cassandra. Nessia stopped sucking her mother’s breast; even at her young age, she sensed something was terribly wrong.

“Kairos…” Cassandra murmured.

“With me.” Kairos walked forward without waiting for an answer. He heard his concubine and wife follow him alongside Cassandra.

They found Aurelia in the captain’s quarters, watching over her sleeping grandchildren’s cradle in some eminent company: a shadowy figure of green smoke tall enough to reach the ceiling. The projection appeared like a humanoid with a single eye of baleful light. Despite it being a mere projection, its heavy presence and divine aura made its nature clear.

It was the shadow of a god.

“Lord Orgonos,” Kairos recognized the figure.

“Kairos of Travia.” The Cyclops God of Magic’s voice oozed ancient both wisdom and tension. “I have received your message.”

“I did not dare to interrupt you while you had your meeting, my son, so I entertained our visitor the best I could,” Aurelia said with a smile that did not reach her eyes. “I hope it was pleasant.”

“It was,” Orgonos’ projection replied politely.

“We apologize for the wait,” Andromache said with profound respect as Cassandra closed the quarters’ door behind them. Nessia looked at the god’s shadow with rapturous, unblinking eyes. “Nessia, this is Orgonos, god of magic. You’re here because of him.”

The baby didn’t make a sound, much to the deity’s amusement. “I have done nothing but provide guidance, child,” said Orgonos with modesty. “Your daughter is a precious creature, Andromache. I foresee that men will wage war for her smile, and she will grow into a powerful mage like her mother before her.”

“You hear, my granddaughter?” Aurelia smiled at Nessia and gained her full, undivided attention. “If the god of magic says so, then you will be the envy of all.”

Andromache’s gaze turned sad. “Do you want to hold her, Aurelia?”

“More than anything.”

Andromache let her mother-in-law take Nessia in her arms with a saddened look on her face. The sight should have been innocent, but it filled Kairos with dread. “Mother…”

“Say no more, my son.” Aurelia caressed her granddaughter’s cheek. Her eyes were made of iron. “I have made my decision.”

As he had feared.

“I won’t stay silent.” Cassandra took a step forward, her hands trembling. “There has to be another way.”

“I won’t let my son or grandchildren bear that burden,” Aurelia replied with a frown. “I have seen what outliving all the people he cared about did to Dispater. I refuse to suffer through the same agony.”

“And I refuse to see you perish!” Cassandra snapped, her eyes blackened by grief. “I have watched enough people die!”

Aurelia flinched, but said no word.

“Lord Orgonos, are there truly no other alternatives?” Kairos asked Orgonos, no, begged him. “You have sealed Lycaon. Surely you know of another method to defeat him.”

The god of magic let out a sigh. “Our original plan to undo the seal in a controllable fashion and slaying Lycaon when he escapes remains viable.”

Cassandra immediately clung on to that meager hope. “Then we only have to delay. Once we win the war, we can return to Lyce and fight Lycaon. Nobody will have to sacrifice themselves.”

“We cannot do that anymore,” Julia replied with a sigh. “Lord Orgonos, can you undo the seal without the Senex’s approval?”

“No,” the god of magic replied. “It must be a collective decision.”

Julia shook her head before turning to Cassandra. “Our plan to release Lycaon in a controlled fashion relied on my brother’s political clout with the Senex.”

“He named you head of the Flavii family,” Cassandra pointed out. “You have the same power he did.”

“But not the same goodwill. My brother named Kairos and I as his successors, but it will take time for other Senex members at home to accept our personal authority. Meanwhile, Lycaon could break free at any moment.”

“This war has greatly weakened the seal,” Orgonos confirmed with a grim voice. “One more broken chain link might be enough to free the wolf god.”

“His thralls will come for Aurelius.” Aurelia put Nessia in the cradle right next to her half-siblings. Rhea was sleeping while her twin brother laid awake, the Flavii’s mark glowing softly on his skin. “My tormented son will come for them. My dear Taulas struggled against Lycaon’s control to spare his nephew’s life, and I won’t let his resistance be in vain.”

Cassandra turned to her captain, seeking help. “Kairos, say something.”

Though he knew his mother was too stubborn to change her mind, Kairos could hardly accept this terrible bargain. At least not until he had explored every other option. “Lord Orgonos, why did you seal Lycaon instead of slaying him?”

“For the same reason I sealed Typhon,” Orgonos replied. “Because I could not kill either of them. There are things even beyond my power to accomplish.”

“Why?” Cassandra’s voice brimmed with despair and impotent rage. “Typhon is the most powerful being in the world, the son of the earth and hell itself, to usher in the apocalypse… and that was before he slew Zeus and stole his power. I understand the danger he poses, but Lycaon is an ascended werewolf. Can’t magical silver slay him? Why does someone have to die?”

Kairos gritted his teeth, having asked himself the same question.

“Lycaon was a werewolf once, but he has become something far, far worse,” Orgonos explained. “Hades was but the first god in a long list of victims. By the time he slew Artemis, goddess of the hunt, Lycaon had already become an incarnation of evil and murder. You cannot extinguish a fire with more fire. Truth be told, I fear Lycaon can only truly die by his own hand.”

Andromache scowled. “Then there is no way to kill him even if he is released.”

“There is one,” Julia guessed. “Kairos’ [Godslayer] Skill.”

Prometheus had prophesied that he would confront three calamities in his lifetime, and implicitly, that he would have the ability to defeat them. His power had already allowed him to defeat Helios in Histria in spite of his immortality. Lycaon would be no different, at least in theory.

Orgonos confirmed the idea with a nod. “Yes indeed. Which is why I believe your plan can work. Lycaon has made a rare mistake in binding his soul to an avatar. If Romulus is indeed part of your family, then if Kairos were to strike him with a Telchine weapon anointed with his kin’s blood… the injury would strike Lycaon’s soul through his vessel and [Godslayer] would make it lethal.”

Lycaon would perish without ever having the chance to break out of his seal. Lyce would survive and all the souls the wolf god had accumulated would achieve freedom. Hades and his son, who had suffered in Lycaon’s belly for centuries, would find peace.

“What about Taulas?” Kairos asked. “Will my brother be saved?”

“Queen Persephone will no doubt claim his soul and Lycaon’s too,” Orgonos confirmed. “Lycaon will suffer torment beyond anything you have ever imagined, and your brother will pass on to the Elysium Fields.”

Kairos locked eyes with his mother. “This is what you want, Mother?”

Aurelia straightened up with a dignified, peaceful expression. “I will not let your brother suffer more than he already has. I know your father and sister already await me on the other side. I welcome death.”

“How can you say that?” Cassandra whispered. “Is it even guaranteed?”

“Nothing is guaranteed when gods are involved.” Orgonos’ eye glittered with cosmic light. “But Fate has brought you all together for a reason. The stars do not align for nothing.”

“You are asking Kairos to murder his brother with a weapon forged from his mother’s soul.” Cassandra glanced at Julia and Andromache. “She is your mother-in-law. Are you just going to stand there and let it happen?”

“I would have offered my life to make the weapon and protect Aurelius.” Of all the people present, Julia probably understood Aurelia’s decision the best. “She is a Lycean matron, Cassandra, as I am. Our house, our blood, is everything. To deny her wish is to insult her resolve.”

Andromache bit her lower lip before turning to Kairos. “My other half, can we return to Lyce on short notice if the seal were to break at an inopportune time?”

“No,” Kairos replied with resignation. “It will take us weeks to get back to Lyce, and so long as Mithridates remains alive to hound us…”

“As I feared.” Andromache shook her head. “I have no love for this distant land of Lyce, Cassandra. I care not if it is destroyed, and I would rather see it burn than see my mother-in-law perish.”

“Then why won’t you prevent it?” Cassandra asked, her gaze heavy with sorrow.

“Because she cares,” Andromache said as she glanced at Aurelia. “Because it is her home. Because it is her choice. Not ours.”

Cassandra locked eyes with Kairos, her gaze heavy with sorrow.

The Travian King remained silent as he examined Aurelia head to toe. Her graying hair had started to turn white with advancing age, but his mother remained strong and fit. In her wolf pelts, she could have been mistaken for an amazon warrior. Aurelia was getting on in her years, but she still had a good decade ahead of her.

But to live without purpose was not her way.

His mother had survived a husband, a daughter, and a son. But at no point had she forgotten her dream to see her house restored and her children welcomed back to their motherland of Lyce. She had persevered, and through a lucky encounter with Sertorius, she had fulfilled her dream. Her son was a [Demigod] poised to become Lyce’s new ruler with enough clout to repeal the werewolf laws that had forced his mother into exile. She had lived to see him forge a nation, raise a throne, and give her grandchildren to care for.

Kairos wanted her to live to see him become a [God], to bear witness to the war’s conclusion, and watch his son and daughters grow to adulthood. He wanted Nessus and Rhadamanthe to live again, his family to return to him, to fight by his brother’s side, and marry Tiberius to Cassandra all over again.

But men rarely get what they want.

Kairos didn’t see any regret or hesitation in his mother’s gaze. She had always looked like a woman made of steel, and her resolve remained as strong as it had ever been.

“I’m sorry, Cassandra,” Kairos whispered.

His former second-in-command looked down at the ground in defeat.

“Cassandra,” Aurelia whispered as she kindly put a hand on her fellow woman’s arm. “You have always been a dear friend to me. Once I even dared to hope that you would marry my son. Such is the high esteem I hold you in.”

Cassandra didn’t have the heart to answer with words. Her eyes appeared about to cry, but unable to. She had gone beyond sadness and into an abyss of despair and powerlessness.

“Death is not the end, Cassandra,” Aurelia tried to reassure her. “You know that better than anyone. We shall meet again.”

Cassandra broke the physical contact. “I do not want to see this,” she said with a low voice as she took to the door. “Not again.”

Andromache’s gaze lingered at Aurelia. “I will go talk to her.”

“As will I,” Julia said politely. “I assume you want a moment alone with your son.”

“I do, and I am thankful.” Aurelia moved to kiss her two daughters-in-law on the cheeks. “Take care of my son in my absence. Do not let him do foolish things.”

Andromache chuckled. “I do not promise anything.”

“Do you wish to have your bones returned to Lyce?” Julia asked her mother-in-law.

“No,” she replied, surprising Kairos. “I want to be buried in Histria next to my husband. I wanted to return to Lyce before I died, but my resting place is with my family.”

“I understand.” Julia offered a final bow before leaving with Andromache. They closed the door, leaving Kairos alone with his mother and children.

Orgonos took his leave as well. “Aurelia Marius, you have my blessing and my respect. Kairos, when the wolves howl and the sea turns to poison, we shall meet again.”

The god of magic vanished.

Aurelia faced her son, her expression unreadable. “Are you sad, my son?”

“Of course I am.” How could she ask him that? “I have seen too many friends sacrifice themselves for my sake.”

First Rhadamanthe, then Nessus… now his mother. Kairos thought it would get easier with time but each heart wound felt as fresh as the last.

“One day, there might come a time when you will be asked to make a similar call for your children.” Aurelia touched her grandchildren’s crib. All of them had fallen into a sound sleep, clutching each other. “And you will make it without hesitation.”

Though they belonged to two different mothers, Nessia, Rhea, and Aurelius held on to one another all the same. Family transcended bloodline and differences.

“I understand,” Kairos whispered. “I will save him too.”

He would help Taulas escape Lycaon’s grasp, no matter the cost.

“Romulus and Remus…” Aurelia chuckled. “History doesn't repeat itself, Kairos. It rhymes in ways one can never predict.”

“If it does, then he will slay me.”

“No, he will not. He does not want to.”

Aurelia’s confidence surprised even her son. “Mother, he almost killed Aurelius.”

“After sparing Julia once before because he couldn’t bear the thought of becoming a kin slayer. Lycaon, that vile creature, has tried to drown your brother’s spirit in maddened frenzy, to make him forget who he was. But for all of his divine power he has failed to subdue your brother.”

“Things have changed,” Kairos replied. “From what Cassandra told me, Lycaon has subsumed him completely.”

“Have more faith in your brother, Kairos,” Aurelia chided him. “You are strong and so is Taulas. Maybe he cannot prevail on his own, all alone… but with your help, I know his spirit will overcome even the wolf god.”

Kairos remembered his old sparring sessions with his late brother. The sword represents solitude, he thought. The spear stands for community.

Kairos had prevailed because he had allies who stood with him, whereas Taulas only ever stood apart from others.

No more.

Aurelia moved away from the crib and searched under her pelt. She brought out an athame of chiseled silver covered in arcane symbols. A tool Kairos had crafted but never dared to complete.

Did it ever feel so warm? Kairos thought as his mother handed it to him. The blade smelled the scent of blood in the air and trembled in anticipation.

“Take care of Spot after I’m gone,” Aurelia said as she raised her pelts to reveal her exposed chest. “Take care of our house… and take care of Cassandra most of all. She needs you more than ever. Of all the people she has loved, you are all that remains.”

“I will take care of her,” Kairos promised as he took a deep breath and seized the athame with both hands. “I shall make you proud.”

His mother smiled. “You already did.”

Kairos raised the blade. The weapon trembled in his hands; whether from its lust for blood or his own anxiety, the Travian King couldn’t tell.

Aurelia closed her eyes, waiting for the strike… but as seconds stretched on, Kairos found that he couldn’t bring the weapon down. His mind was made, but his body resisted. Something deep within his bones tried to sway his resolve.

To kill one’s mother makes one cursed before the gods, Kairos thought. She brought me into the world. What right do I have to take her out of it? Even if she asked it of me… I…

His mother opened her eyes again, their gazes meeting. But where Kairos faltered in his hesitation, Aurelia showed no doubt. Her son realized that she would have done it herself without blinking.

She wanted him to do the deed for his sake.

So he wouldn’t hesitate against Romulus.

So he would have the strength to do what had to be done.

Kairos let out a heavy breath and his hands stopped trembling. He forced himself to hold his weapon correctly and closed his own heart.

He struck without a word.

The blade went through Aurelia’s flesh and bone like butter, piercing the heart instantly. The runes on its pommel glowed with a bright red shine as blood dripped on the edge. Aurelia’s wound let out steaming smoke as if her insides were on fire.

Kairos didn’t tremble and neither did his mother. She didn’t make a sound as her eyes closed for the last time and her lifeforce empowered the weapon. Her knees knelt as Kairos removed the dagger, her lifeless corpse falling next to the crib.

Kairos looked down at his mother’s remains with a cold dead heart, and then at the weapon of his salvation. The blade had curved upon exiting his mother’s body, taking on the shape of a wolf's fang with a red hue.

Fang of Aurelia

Artifact Rank 4

Value: Priceless.

A Telchine dagger anointed with the blood and soul of Aurelia Marius, beast-mother of destined foes. This fang will strike at Lycaon’s heart through his vessel Romulus, putting an end to the age of wolves.

And Kairos cried.