Hector entered the royal Oracle's chamber to find her sitting at its center. She was an old woman, in service to his family before even his father's reign. Her hair glinted the same silver sheen as Queen Lillian's, her face beginning to line with her vast age. Mages aged gracefully from what Hector had seen, living throughout centuries for a grand total of a millennium. The chamber was dark, lit by now covered lanterns where dim candle light escaped. There was no furniture, no ornamentation off the sterile white marbled floor save for a small round table and two simple wood chairs.

“My liege,” she bowed her head.

“How are you always here before I even enter?” Hector asked, curious.

“I sense your turbulence from even past these walls. Your mind is a cloud of doubt, unsure of who you can trust. But as any cloud it must eventually clear for a sharp mind.”

“You can read my thoughts?”

The Oracle laughed, a short brisk laugh without any mirth.

“Mythic no, if I did you would know. It is not a pleasant feeling; for someone to invade your mind. But I can interpret your aura, and it is a storm of unease. How could it not be, someone in your position?”

Hector sat down, troubled. Whenever he was troubled he would reach out to his father who often traveled outside the capital between the four kingdoms, and he had communicated with his father through her, the Oracle. She was a mage capable of the Voice, a Gift sought after amongst all mages. Such a Gift bestowed great power, and with it fear. They were shunned and distrusted by even their own kind.

Freia was an unofficial member of his family however, the grandmother he never had, often giving counsel to his father and his father before him. Now it was Hector who sought her counsel. Throughout his years she had given him brief snippets of advice which his father had warned him to take heed. Show the people love, and they shall love you back. Rule the people through fear, and they shall cut your throat while you sleep. She was not one to mince words, having lived through several mortal lifetimes, long before the Reunification. Freia waited patiently for Hector to voice his thoughts.

“I still do not know how father died,” he began. “They wouldn’t let me see his body before he was entombed. Roth said he had been poisoned, weakening him before the Natives ambushed him headed back home. He said they only recognized him by his clothing. But why? Why after so close to the first truce in over millennia of war would they do such a thing?”

Hector felt himself trembling, the rage he had built up now boiling over with righteous vengeance. He held his hands out, flexing them into fists.

“Roth says I cannot join the siege. That my safety is too important. How can I sit here and do nothing after what they did to my father?”

“It is less than a year before your Ascension. You will join them soon enough. The forest is vast, possibly larger than even all the Free Kingdoms. It will take months, if not years to burn it all. If it can even be done,” Freia added under her breath.

“Roth believes he was the first to think of burning the forest. What we live on now was the same land the Natives lived on before we traveled from the great black sea, beyond the sky itself. This was their land, and we took it through right of conquest. The common folk like to forget that fact. It’s easier to exterminate an entire race feeling morally superior. What would you do if someone burned your land, drove you to the ends of your world and penned you there for millennia? I am not defending their actions, it cannot go without justice. But you cannot swear to exterminate an entire race based on the actions of a group of individuals.”

“I seek your counsel, and instead you lecture me on what is right and wrong?” Hector said coldly. Freia shook her head.

“What I suggest, is you talk with the same sylvans that were undergoing negotiations with your father. Bring Roth and all the other Monarchs. Who could stand before your combined power? Find out who killed your father and have them give you whoever they find responsible. There is no right or wrong in this world, there just is my boy. But this path you tread, this vengeance you seek will not bring your father back. The Law of Balance forbids the extinction of a sentient race. It is what separates us from savagery. And we have ignored it for too long.”

Hector stood up, his face hardened. “Roth was right about you. You’re just like Queen Lillian, set in the archaic ways that will set about our stagnation and extinction. I will avenge my father and bring order to this land. The Natives showed their true nature to us. They cannot be negotiated with. They are a disease that must be purged from this land, nothing but primitive savage beasts. My father believed in the Ancient Law, and look at his fate. I will not be my father.”

He turned away as Freia shook her head sadly. As he walked off she swiftly took his hand, her vice like grip inescapable. He stopped at the sudden connection which overtook him.

See what I have seen, she intoned in his mind. It is in your blood.

He was in a dream, locked in the point of view of someone else's body. He stared at the woman, locks of auburn hair framed her lovely face. She was afraid. Pale lips moved but gave no word. Her eyes, brilliant grey green eyes pleaded with him. Something tugged at his leg. He looked down, a boy of messy auburn hair wrapping his arms around. Painfully, slowly, he removed his grip and carried him up to her. The boy was crying, tears streaked on his face as the silence threatened to suffocate them. The man shook his head and turned away. They hurried to join the lines of people, their desperation and fear etched onto all their faces as he passed them.

He broke into a jog, then a run, the world morphing around him. He was now in a clearing, two forces of opposing men and women striding forth from the trees into the open field opposite each other. He yelled, his throat hoarse as he was joined by several hundred other cries. The wall of noise hit him as he charged into another army of men and women hundreds strong garbed in dark red compared to their grey uniforms. Although they were far enough to see themselves as figures no larger than their thumbs opposite each other both sides reached each other in seconds.

The ground cracked underneath the weight of their sheer force as they collided, an apocalyptic clap of sound that echoed throughout the entire forest. Men and women flew above, swarms of grey and red that engaged each other in hand to hand combat. He hurtled through the air, his arms curling around another man’s neck. The man was viciously elbowing his ribs. He cried out in pain, and twisted his neck with a dry crack of bone.

The reprieve was short lived as a woman tackled him from behind and sent him falling face first to the ground below. His arms covered his head as an explosion of earth plumed up the sky when they crashed to the ground. Trees, ancient towering giants of this world toppled down and were crushed, torn apart into millions of splinters and chips of wood as blow upon mighty blow sent the men and women all spinning and careening into one another.

The woman was mounted on him, pounding him with her bare fists. He reversed their positions as she was off balance mid strike and proceeded to choke the life out of her. She snarled and feebly scratched his face, coming close to his eyes. He screamed and headbutted her before punching her throat. She gasped, her eyes widening as she came to the realization that these were the last few seconds of her life left. He did not hesitate, holding her head and turning it with the efficiency of a movement practiced countless times. Gasping breaths he stood up from her corpse and looked around wildly.

They were winning the battle, the men and women clothed in red retreating into the shadow of the forest. The man heard a faint rumbling and turned to look up at the sky. An iridescent black city glimmered an orange yellow in a hexagonal lined pattern, spires sprouting out from its circled base. The man stood and watched the city rise in the distance and waited. A wave of blue light washed over the sky, striking the city. The orange glow of the hexagonal patterned dome that surrounded the structure flickered then disappeared and the city fell from the heavens. The man collapsed to his knees and screamed.

Hector returned, startled and disturbed. Freia let go of her grip and held her hands up in peaceful repose.

“What did you show me? Who was that man?”

“I show you now what I showed to your father. He was your forefather, many generations ago.” Hector placed his hands over his temples, trying to process the memory and what she was saying to him. When Freia spoke for him it was just the Voice, not something that took all seven senses. He felt nauseous from the experience.

“They were fighting each other,” Hector closed his eyes, trying to gather his mind. “So many mages together in one place. Two armies. Why would they be fighting against the other?”

“Once we were all bestowed with the Mythic Gifts. During that time two factions arose. The Gaians wanted to maintain the way of the Laws from the holy land. The other rebelled, having created new Laws to serve their purposes, such as the right of conquest. These were the Forma, seeking to forcefully shape the world in their desired image. The Gaians were losing the war, and in desperation found a way to weaken all of our magics. The Gaians won in the end, at great cost as you know. Your forefather was a Gaian.”

“How do you know all this?” Hector asked, voice trembling. Freia smiled thinly.

“Because history is a wheel that repeats without proper understanding. To understand one must have the knowledge to do so. It is the Oracle’s duty to remind the line of Riordan of their past, so they do not stray away from the path they fought so hard to maintain.”

“I take it that did not go well with King Celdan.”

The old woman sighed, her age showing in her weariness.

“Some listen, others turn away and see us as relics of the past no better than tools of the Voice. Your father listened, and strived to maintain the Laws.”

“Can you show me another memory?”

She shook her head slightly.

“I can see their past to a certain point. To absorb too much could lead to one losing themselves entirely, trapped in the memory. I can only act as a conduit for so long, and it has drained me of my power. With each generation the connection grows weaker, and harder to channel. You are at a crossroads now, my Prince. Only you can choose your path now, and how you will lead your people. I hope with this new understanding you will honor the memory of your father.”

Hector turned to face the door, his face peering sideways back at Freia.

“Thank you. I know what I must do.”