Days passed since the near debacle with Merrin, but Keegan hardly thought of it. He had informed Cian, citing that if he had been there, then the whole situation could have been averted. They could have pulled the cart right away and been at Healer Sophia’s house before ever running into Merrin. Cian blamed Destin; the four-year-old had impeded him from leaving the house until he helped him catch a Dragonfly he had chased into their home.

  “No matter how many times you tell me your reason for not showing, I won’t share my fireworks with you,” Keegan said, dodging his brother’s pleading eyes as he practiced a series of sword strikes Warden had taught them. Their introductory courses had been short, and were made even shorter after Merrin got injured and pestered his parents to cause a fuss. It did not matter much, as the teaching inspired them to look to the Warden for further instruction. The man had said they would learn how to fight soon enough when they went to The Cornucopia, but the brothers convinced him that training early would benefit them in the long run. “You’re lucky that I saved you from chasing after a wretched Dragonfly!”

  When he did not receive the attention he wanted from his brother, Cian flopped down on the ground. They are in the training field, having just finished a session with Warden, and Cian had wanted to mess with the fireworks. It is always best to light them during the night, but Cian had wondered if they could alter them to make them more visible during the day. He is no expert on the flammable, yet felt confident he would at least manage something. The issue is that Keegan is being very stingy, and Cian felt like throwing a tantrum. “Please, Keegan!” Cian pleaded, flailing his limbs against the ground.

  “My, and people say I act like a spoiled infant.”

  Cian sat up, whipping his head around to the sound of a male’s voice. Walking up toward them is Merrin, accompanied by the four boys from before. Merrin has a large smile plastered onto his face, and it pulls ugly against his scar. Cian almost winces because the boy was average at best before getting injured; now he understands why he was peeved about his appearance. “Good afternoon, Merrin,” Keegan greeted, halting his swings, but keeping a tight grip on his practice sword. “Why are you here?”

  “I wanted to talk with you. My father brought to my attention that the Lord calls us to turn the other cheek to transgressions. That if our brother should seek forgiveness a thousand times, we must forgive them a thousand and more.”

  As Merrin spoke, the four with him began to spread out. Cian got to his feet, his body tensing. One did not have to be an intellectual to know what Merrin was planning. He had to commend the other boy, it is very daft to not only attack the sons of a patriarch, but also to attack them on their land. “I'm here to seek your apology,” Merrin said, smile deepening once Cian and Keegan were surrounded. “Beg for my forgiveness and I will do the Christianly thing of forgiving you.”

  “Shouldn't it be more that you ask my brother to forgive you and vice versa? How you worded it makes it seem only Keegan committed an act of transgression.”

  Cian did not care who did what; he was merely borrowing time. Although he and Keegan could manage in the event of a scuffle, even after training with Warden for a short period, he does not want it to come to that. Better to provide a chance for an adult to appear than to immediately resort to fisticuffs. “Keegan did tell me your part in the whole verbal conflict. It's not fair to place the blame solely on one person.”

  “He insulted me in front of not only my companions, but also a lady.”

  “You insulted yourself the moment you spoke,” Keegan retorted venomously. He stepped forward, shoulders straight, and eyes challenging. “You carry yourself as someone important, as someone that should be obeyed, but you're from a small clan. One that has never, nor will ever be, invited to any of the Secondary Summits. I don't know where you received such a massive ego from, but it's overinflated and as nasty as that line across your face.” Keegan punctuated his last words by raising his wooden sword and using the tip to trace the scar on Merrin’s face in the air.

  A pregnant silence befell the group as Merrin's smile twisted into something else. Fury. Indignation. Astonishment—and many more emotions fluttered across his face. Although it eventually settles on the fury, the corner of the lips lifts into a snarl.

  Cian closed his eyes, breathing through his nose in resignation. When his lungs were filled with air, his eyes then blinked open. Swifter than a viper, Cian charged forward, bringing up a knee to ram it into the side of Merrin, who had been about to pounce on his brother. The other boy lets out a choked noise of pain, but he tucks his body to roll and avoid being sent flying away. Cian’s attack was sudden enough to throw off Merrin’s companions and allow Keegan to get off one swing of his sword, catching the taller of the bunch in the face. After that, there was no more hesitation from anyone as a fight ensued.

  For being a fledgling when it came to the ways of martial arts, no one would know it by the way Cian maneuvered. He was like a dancer, following a contrived routine of his making. Fists missed him, and kicks were easily dodged. Granted, his opponents were far from skilled, so it was not difficult for Cian to overshadow them. It was due to a lack of coordination that Cian also acted as the dance instructor, encouraging those on stage to stand where he wanted them to. He made it so that Keegan was not fighting multiple adversaries at the same time. His brother may have the advantage of a weapon, but that did not mean he understood how to use it properly. Besides, Cian felt comfortable dividing his attention between two or more persons.

  It is laughable how quickly the resolve of Merrin’s party petered away as they were struck by wood that will surely leave welts along their skin. Not to mention the many gut punches, sweeping kicks, and elbows to the back from Cian—it felt as though they were fighting a whipping tree and a crazed baboon. The first one to run with their metaphorical tail between their legs was the boy with long hair kept back by a headband. Somewhere along the line, the headband had been lost, and his hair became tangled, strands of off-white clinging to the sweat-covered skin of his face. Once he ran, the others admired his retreat and soon followed, leaving only one behind—Merrin.

  Cian held out his arm to halt Keegan from advancing on the poor boy who lay on the ground after being knocked over by one of his fleeing friends. “Your reasons for coming here may have been self-centered, but they don’t have to remain that way. Let bygones be bygones, and we can end this in peace,” Cian said. He went over to Merrin and offered his hand. Merrin looked at the appendage as if it personally offended him, and Cian supposed he had to change tactics. “Your companions left you. Do you honestly think you stand a chance against the two of us on your own?”

  Merrin thought it over before seemingly coming to his senses, frowning all the while as he took Cian’s hand. Cian smiles in contrast. He moves to say something, relief washing over him at the conflict being settled, but then he is yanked forward. From his robes, Merrin pulled out a hidden knife, intending to slash Cian across the face. The hit does not land as he had tugged Cian too hard, causing the boy to be pulled to the ground. A minor misstep that Merrin rectifies by straddling Cian and bearing the knife down. The whole action may have caught Cian off guard, but he is swift to recover and catches Merrin’s hands, pushing upward to avoid being stabbed in the chest. Unbeknownst to either of them, a wooden sword fell to the earth, its wielder replacing it with a sizable jagged rock.

  As part of their lessons, Warden nurtured their reflexes by throwing rocks at them and telling the boys to hit the rocks with their practice swords. He did not aim at their bodies, their inexperience too palpable; instead, he would send the rocks hurling past them, inches from grazing them. Seeing as they had barely concluded one of those lessons, there are still rocks on the field. The one Keegan chose bites into the palm of his hand, as he holds it so securely. There are no other thoughts in his mind besides one: someone is trying to hurt his brother.

  With a sickening crack, Keegan struck Merrin across the temple, the boy collapsing sideways. That should have been enough; the force behind the strike had already left the boy blinking in disorientation, but Keegan wanted more. He kneeled beside the boy and struck again, then a third time, and he would have gone for a fourth had he not been dragged away by Cian. “Keegan, stop! You’re going to kill him!”

  “What if I do? He deserves it! He was trying to kill you first!” Keegan rebutted. He continued to fight against Cian's hold, intending to finish off their opponent.

  Slap!

  Keegan became still, stunned into silence by the strike from his brother. Cian did not have time to deal with him as he went over to Merrin. The boy lay unconscious, his head angled to the side, and above his left brow, blood poured down the boy's face from the wound Keegan had caused. Layers of skin had been scratched away, and Cian thinks he can see bone. His breathing stutters at the sight, but he shakes his head. They need to get Merrin help, and Cian is about to do just that when he pauses. Keegan has not moved from his position, and it is then that Cian notices what weapon his brother used. The rock, along with Keegan’s hand, is coated in thick crimson. Hitting Merrin once was self-defense, understandable as Keegan was a witness to the boy trying to stab Cian, but the hits after were not.

  It is the latter thought that Cian struggles with, forcing him to rethink what actions they should take. They do need to get help for Merrin; that truth is clear, yet they cannot until the scene—and, by extension, the narrative—is altered. Cian gets on the other side of Merrin and slides his hands underneath the boy’s body. He lifts the boy before pushing him forward, rolling him onto his face, then goes over to Keegan. “I need you to place the rock under Merrin’s head.” When Cian receives no reply, he grabs Keegan by the shoulders to shake him. “Keegan! Put the rock under his head!”

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  Keegan snapped out of whatever daze he had been in and looked at him in confusion.

  “Why?”

  “Because Merrin hit his head on the rock after you pushed him off me.”

  “That’s not—”

  “You pushed him hard because you feared for my life. We hadn’t cleared the field after training with Warden, so it was a horrible misfortune on Merrin’s part that he happened to land on one of those rocks.”

  Cian stepped back as Keegan stood up. He did as he was told, lifting Merrin’s head and placing the rock under where he had hit him. Once that was done, Cian rolled Merrin back into his previous position. “Get behind him and put his head in your lap,” Cian ordered before tearing off a piece of his shirt sleeve and handing it over. “Keep pressure on his head. I'll retrieve whoever can help.”

  After their preparations were complete, Cian ran off, glancing back once. He found it peculiar how obediently Keegan complied with his wishes. Then again, the other must have understood the consequences if what he did were to come out. Keegan's parents are already weary of his attitude, although this is Merrin's fault, they would look at their son differently. Cian did not see the point of that needing to happen. He stopped Keegan from doing anything further, and Keegan is tending to Merrin without complaint. Telling a small fib hurts no one, so he looked ahead and ran.

  —————

  In a way, the decisions he made when they were nine were much the same as the ones he made now. Keegan and he had stuck to the story he had concocted, and those boys with Merrin could not contradict them because they had fled. In the end, Merrin’s father had come to them to apologize for his son’s actions and told them that the Lord must have sought retribution on their behalf because Merrin was in a coma, and there was no telling if he would wake. Later, they would learn that Merrin eventually opened his eyes, only to scream, and as his attending physician tried to ascertain what was wrong, Merrin could only let out gibberish. The aftermath of his head injury left him forever blind and unable to speak.

  It had not been an act of God, but neither brother was going to correct anyone.

  The worst part is that what happened with Merrin was not an isolated incident, although it was one of the most alarming until Lake Kai. Before attending The Conucopia, Cian had to deal with the people of their city, causing one issue or another for his brother. It was not that they purposefully sought to target the boy; rather, if they did anything to Keegan’s siblings or said something about his parents, the boy would retaliate. Some might consider that to be overprotective, but they would not realize that his retribution did not weigh the same as the infraction. Cian had to become his brother's shadow, so that he could step forward in situations that intensified. More than once, he was put in the predicament of facing children bigger than him or full-grown adults who could not let go of Keegan’s slight against them. That is why Cian preferred to be the entertainer; making people laugh or exasperating them keeps them from devolving into conflict. It keeps Keegan distracted…

  He considers that his uncle has a point.

  As Cian reflects on his uncle’s words, he understands the man is right, and the acceptance has him wilting to the ground. “Do you remember Merrin Vale?” Cian asked, drawing one of his knees to his chest. He hears a shifting of fabric, and his eyes follow his uncle as the man sits cross-legged on the ground in front of him. “I do. You said he got hurt after Keegan pushed him and hit his head on the rock, but that wasn’t what truly happened, was it?”

  “No, it wasn’t. Keegan had struck him three times and would have caved in his skull if I hadn’t intervened,” Cian replied. He had told his sins to God, sought repentance the same night, but voicing it to another person felt different. Like a sentence against his name, yet an unburdening as he gave the weight to his uncle, the one who should be carrying such a thing, as Keegan is his son. “It was because of him that Merrin became blind and unable to speak.”

  “And it was because of you that he regained some independence by learning a new way of communication.”

  Cian looked at his uncle in surprise. “More than a year after you and Keegan left, Mrs. Vale came to our home and bowed at mine and your mother’s feet. Words of gratitude poured from her mouth as she told us that you had sent a package to her months prior, containing a book on how to learn Raised Script and a letter explaining tongue clicking as a form of speech. She and her husband had encouraged Merrin to use the gifts, and the progress he made brought a different kind of independence to his life.”

  Raised Script is a grid of small raised markings pressed into parchment—each cluster of bumps formed a letter. The way to read the markings is not by sight but by feeling with a person’s fingertips. This method was conceived by Patriarch Noctua, who drew inspiration from Gesture Speak. If Matriarch Davar could give voice to the deaf and mute, then why could he not provide some sight to the blind?

  The children at The Conrucopia were taught Raised Script alongside Gesture Speak, and given manuals to aid them. With the newfound information, Merrin had come to the forefront of Cian’s mind, and he felt it in his heart to spread this information to him. While he was on this line of thinking, he ruminated over the fact that Merrin could make sounds, but he just could not articulate them into words. The thought persisted and did not make sense until he was watching Davar’s soldiers ride their horses, and give them commands by using certain clicks of their tongue. In an instant, Cian decided to create a language based on that principle of sound. It was the least he could do.

  “There is no such thing as a good person; instead, there are people who attempt to be. You’re one of them, Cian, but oftentimes it is overshadowed by the wickedness you let prevail,” his uncle said, the words not condemning him, but Cian can still feel the weight behind them. “Keegan doesn’t need you protecting him from the choices he makes. It is better to pray for him, so that, should he get hurt as a consequence, he comes out the other end having learned a lesson.”

  “Is that why you had me speak with you alone and why you had us come back?” Cian asked. He cannot take back what he did under Lake Kai, but he can acknowledge where he went wrong. It was good for Wukong to have stopped Keegan from using the conduit; it was not good that Cian lied about him having to do that. Keegan should acknowledge that he had been a breath away from losing the keys to the kingdom if no one had intervened.

  “I asked you home for a different reason. I’m going to be announcing my heir on your and Keegan’s sixteenth birthday.” Cian’s mood was uplifted somewhat. Keegan has been waiting for this moment for a long time, having voiced his vision for how the announcement would go. “Although it is customary for our tribe’s patriarch to announce their heir when they turn seventeen, I have to do so a year ahead of schedule.”

  “Keegan will be happy when he hears. He is more than ready to accept the responsibility being an heir entails.”

  “You are wrong on that front,” Bomin said, continuing before Cian could interrupt him. “I want to announce you as heir, but our tribe’s customs won’t allow such a thing. You two became twins the moment I adopted you; therefore, on your birthday, you and your brother will take part in a rightful heir ceremony.”

  There are no words to describe how horrified Cian felt. “I don’t want the title of patriarch! Never have I suggested I do!” he yelled, but soon after clamped his mouth shut. If Keegan heard them right now, he would feel betrayed that there was even a thought that Cian might contest him becoming the leader of the tribe. When he spoke next, he did so in a hushed tone. “I won’t fight Keegan for leadership.”

  “It’s not a matter of you wanting to, Cian, it’s that you must,” Bomin argued. “Keegan isn’t capable of leading this tribe. His emotions are as wild as flames, and his lack of inhibition makes him a target for ruin. If he becomes patriarch, then the fate of this tribe is doomed.”

  “You don’t know that! You don’t even know if I could do better!”

  “But you can, Cian. You've never failed to attract people to you, and I’ve seen how tireless you are in your efforts to improve yourself. The people of Heartsease will flourish under your guiding hand.”

  Cian stood up in an angry huff. “Why can’t you wait another year? Are you judging your son for almost touching a conduit? Has the whole ordeal frightened you into acting hastily?”

  “Yes,” his uncle replied, and Cian stopped the pacing he had been doing. “You’re not aware of all that is happening right now, Cian. A shadow is coming to decimate this era and usher in a new one. As the acting patriarch, I must ensure the safety of my people, but I cannot do it alone. Not when I fear war. I need my son beside me, but I need the son not of my blood, for the one that is—might betray us for the shadow if he thinks it’s the only way.”

  “I will make sure he doesn’t,” Cian offered. In return for his suggestion, a look of frustration and…desperation crossed over Bomin’s face. “You are not the keeper of your brother’s spirit. Don’t you see, Cian, that you would only be further coddling your brother by allowing him to rule and being the voice in his ear? You would be continuing what you have been doing for most of your life, and what kind of way of living is that? Have you ever been still enough to consider that there will come a time when the price to save Keegan from himself will be too much? War is not black and white, my son, it is muddy, and the right and wrong paths become distorted. If you don’t have a clear sense of morals, you can easily drown in the onslaught of sin.”

  Cian dug his nails into the back of his right hand, focusing on the gentle pain as his mind thought of every scenario, should he fight and should he not. If he openly challenges Keegan for their father’s title, then surely the other boy will lose faith in him. He has never had to face Keegan’s more volatile emotions directed at him before, and…he is unsure if their relationship would hinder Keegan from doing something brash. It is horrible to think, but Keegan has never had the best control when he is angry. The ceremony could ruin everything.

  Yet if Cian steps aside…

  Keegan is far from an imbecile. He is fantastic in his studies, logical when determining strategies, and his expertise with poisons and toxins is nearly unrivaled. His brother is terrific, if only he could remain rooted in what makes him so. Cian is certain the other boy would be able to keep stride with his father, standing as a proper example of what a patriarch’s son should be. It would go well… for a while, then a shift would occur when the first sign of discord became apparent. Whatever evil his father sees in the future will cause disruption, and part of it may involve loss of life. Should Fallen Petal be attacked, should the tribe of Heartsease become endangered, or should all of it become too much and drive Keegan to desperation, his brother will forgo reasoning for whatever it takes to protect what he loves. If the evil that threatened them were also the one that could save them, Keegan would willingly submit to it, becoming a pawn or what have you, in the name of salvation.

  “Cian?”

  His brother almost killed Merrin.

  His brother nearly lost himself to a conduit.

  His brother cannot be trusted.

  “Cian, what do you decide?”

  The boy closed his eyes and breathed through his nose in resignation.