Kumo and Warden had been part of the first men chosen to join the Lamb’s Guard. They had been spring chickens when Patriarch Jimin appraised them. Twenty, inexperienced, and just entering into adulthood, yet the patriarch had looked upon them fondly. They had stood with bright eyes amongst the newly appointed soldiers and gladly accepted the decree that from that day forth, they would protect the tribal leadership, its family, and people. Like shepherds keeping watch over their flock, no enemy would be allowed to take what was under their protection. They had no idea what pressures would befall them, nor the heartache they would face.

  The war had forced them to metamorphosize and emerge from their cocoons as skilled killers. A necessary change to benefit the patriarchy they gave their loyalty to and the tribe they loved. That is why the loss of Patriarchs Karna and Benaiah, and Greatwife Melody, had greatly devastated the two men. They were supposed to be the shining gems of the Lamb’s Guard—the trusted sword and shield —but that night, they failed their young scion, and Cian had been bathed in blood.

  Promises are no fleeting fancies. Better is not to make a vow than vow and not keep it, but Kumo and Warden had done just that. Together, they vowed never to fail their tribal leader and never to allow death to conquer them until their leader deemed their duties fulfilled. Kumo could only imagine what Warden must have felt when he died. Had he experienced the same emotions Kumo was feeling now?

  Madam Calypso did not smell of a warrior, yet she fought with a ferocity unbecoming of an ordinary woman. Hairpins. She was fending him off with hairpins, and that is how Kumo knew she was toying with him. He struck with speed that should render anyone incapable of parrying, but the woman met each attack with a flick of her wrist, her hairpin withstanding the mightiest of blows. Kumo could feel his strength waning, and he did not mean only physically.

  Since the beginning of the fight, Kumo felt shaken. He knew he was no match for Madam Calypso, and what he was doing was only bartering for time. It had been decided that besides their patriarch, only he could stand a chance against a sinful cultivator. So Kumo was meant to distract the villainous leader, while his patriarch and the rest of their party dealt with the other soldiers. That is why they snuck through the city so painstakingly. They had expected the mansion to be the stronghold for the enemy, and that there would be guards, but not enough to overwhelm their party. As small a century as they were, Heartsease’s remaining soldiers could fight against uneven odds. At least long enough to free their patriarch’s family and get them to safety.

  If Kumo could keep Madam Calypso from joining the fray, then hope gleamed. They only needed time, time Kumo realized he would not be able to provide.

  The black serpent was no God-created thing. It was an abomination that felt no pain, nor fatigue. It was a relentless thing that obeyed the will of Madam Calypso, so if she commanded the serpent to reform, it did as it was told. Just like during her performance, the serpent’s body reenacted the moment it was cut in half, but backward. The pieces came together, and the serpent rolled its body, not dissimilar to how a person rolls their shoulders to loosen their limbs. Once it settled, the serpent’s snout pointed in the direction of Kumo, and its body began to shrink into a tight coil.

  —————

  After freeing Keegan, Cian had grabbed his shoulder to pull him along as he ran up the steps toward their mother and awaiting siblings. He urged his auntie to stand, steadying her when her legs wobbled. “They’ve provided us an opening!” Cian exclaimed, pointing westward, “Gather your strength because we are leaving!” Most of the enemy soldiers had been walking the grounds around the mansion and had entered the battle. There were still a few coming out of the mansion, but their numbers did not worry Cian. There was no dust from a collapsing building to cloud his sight or suffocate his lungs, and without such a hindrance, he could become a force to be reckoned with. The only disadvantage he faced was his lack of a weapon. Keegan’s sword had been taken away, and his knife… He had no clue what happened to it. The blade was not even answering his beckoning calls, and there was no time to question why that was. “Keegan, go after anyone who makes it past me!”

  Cian does not wait for a response, barreling forward and jumping to kick the first approaching enemy across the face. The man hits the floor harshly, the impact causing his arms to go up, and his grip to loosen around the sword he had been wielding. Cian takes the weapon and brandishes it at the three new approaching soldiers. He engages two of them, trusting Keegan to handle the third one. Cian shouts a resolve-filled war cry and does not expect it to be drowned out by the deep resonating sound of a hiss. It made him go still, his body informing him that there was a predator nearby and he need not draw its attention. Even the enemy soldiers he parried were startled by the noise, their arms becoming frozen mid-strike as they turned to look in the direction of the creature that made that awful hiss.

  The serpent had grown, its size dwarfing Kumo, who looked so small as he nearly drowned in the coils wrapped around him—only his head and shoulders just visible. The serpent had its maw opened wide, rows of sharp teeth glistening, yet the most transfixing part was the blackened smoke pouring from its empty eye sockets. Cian did not know what he was staring at, but something within him advised him to look away, to not stare into the eyes filling in the emptiness that was the serpent’s sockets. “Don’t stare at it!” Cian commanded, averting his eyes to instead peer at his family. The hissing already ceased, and his voice pulled them from whatever fear stupor that had overtaken them. They did as he told them, his auntie telling her children to look at the floor. Keegan did the same, but Cian decided to keep his eyes ahead. There were still two enemies before him, and once they also shook the effect of the hiss, they would re-engage with him, or so he thought.

  The soldiers were not interested in him; they were more entertained by the spectacle that was Kumo’s death because that was what was occurring. Cian knew this, knew the man had been no match for the sinful cultivator and her conduit. Kumo was going to die, and Cian did not know by what means, although it was revealed to him by the soldiers who continued to stare. The glint in their eyes, the shine of pleasure at seeing another of Heartsease’s greatest warriors beaten, grew dull as did the rest of their bodies and clothing. Cian felt no fear, not because the moment was not horrifying, but because it was something he had never seen. Stone began to replace the soft flesh of skin, the flowing texture of garments, and hair, until all that remained were two perfectly sculpted statues.

  Cian hesitantly turned his head, and his eyes widened when he saw that the serpent was no longer holding Kumo, but another statue like the ones before him. It dropped the stone figure, and pieces went flying every which way once it hit the ground. “Deal with them!” Madam Calypso ordered, pointing in the direction of Bomin and his men. A scream wanted to tear past Cian’s mouth, fear at the possibility of his uncle meeting the same fate as Kumo, but he could not allow it to overrun him. “Keep running!” He shouted, spurring his family to keep their eyes forward. There was nothing they could do for his uncle, and as wrong as it seemed, they could only save themselves.

  He ran past the two statues and the third one that never reached Keegan. Speaking of his brother, Cian did not chance a look at him, yet he knew there would be conflict brewing within his mind. Keegan was never one to abandon family, and Cian prayed the boy would not try to save his father. They needed to keep moving.

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  “An audience that leaves before the show has finished can be considered the rudest of all people.”

  Cian skidded to a stop, sword raised as he stared at the woman causing all their grief. Madam Calypso stood, relaxed and elegant, in her calm demeanor, as if she knew they would be unable to fend against her. Which was the truth, although Keegan had not seemed to register that. Before Cian could stop him, Keegan barreled forward, weaponless because he had not been able to steal one after the soldiers turned to stone, so he charged with a raised fist.

  Madam Calypso looked neither amused nor bothered as she simply back-handed Keegan across the face, the movement so swift, Cian was not entirely sure what had happened. Keegan was sent into one of the mansion’s columns that had a stone base, and it was amazing how it cracked from the force of the impact. “Keegan!” Mila exclaimed, running over to her son and helping him up as he groaned in pain.

  “I suppose it’s your turn,” Madam Calypso said, yet there was no challenge within her voice because she knew Cian saw no point, and she was right. Cian lowered his weapon. “What are you doing?” Keegan questioned, his ire evident in his voice; despite being hunched over, he still appeared ready to fight. “Seeing what happens,” Cian responded, and that answer did both to confuse his brother and cause Madam Calypso to huff through her nose.

  —————

  Bomin’s assault had been quick to end once the serpent came against him and his men. The beast was no mere animal, for it had an awareness like that of a person. It moved deliberately, weaving through the soldiers on its side without harming them, yet managing to lash out its tail at the children of Heartsease. Those who encountered the opposite end, the one with teeth, screamed when the teeth tore into flesh. The serpent seemed to have an affinity for blood and meat, chewing its food and making a noise of contentment when it swallowed. Bomin wondered if those who met the serpent’s gaze were the most fortunate because they did not have to face teeth, but a crushing blow that shattered their body. Although he had to wonder, did they still feel pain, since only the outside of them was stone while the inside remained unchanged? He did not know how it worked, nor did he dwell on it all that deeply. His people were dead, and now all that was left was him and his family.

  He was on his knees beside Mila, and together they looked down at the bottom of the steps toward their children and the enemy soldiers surrounding them. Bomin tried to ignore the snout of the serpent that continued to sniff at the nap of his neck, saliva droplets escaping its maw and falling on him. “Tanith is still hungry, so I shall not keep this long,” Madam Calypso said, her hand passing lightly over Bomin’s then Mila’s head. She stepped back after that and cleared her throat, ensuring that all would hear her voice. “The former patriarchs and matriarchs of the seven tribes stand accused of causing misery to my clan by allowing injustice to prevail. Favors in exchange for leniency toward a murderer. That was the price of my daughter’s life. Domino killed Mina out of an abhorrent act of obsession and jealousy, yet the tribal leaders killed my husband to protect their fallible judgment.”

  Bomin felt as though the world around him went still while his mind moved at an alarming rate to comprehend the words of Madam Calypso. Neos had a wife, a woman by the name of Ophelia, who had sent many correspondence to the tribal leaders regarding her sons. She beseeched them to let her sons go free, or at least send them to prison instead of being executed. All of Ophelia’s sons had joined the war alongside their father, and only two remained after their final stand. She had claimed it would kill her to lose the last people she cared about after losing her husband, other children, and clan, but her pleading went unheard. Bomin had assumed that when the rest of the Neos clan had been hunted, she would have been amongst them, yet it seemed she had avoided the hounds. Now the woman has returned, the powers of a sinful cultivator running through her body, and a serpent with the taste for man at her beck and call.

  “The tribes will see that every decision bears consequences, and the first to do so is Heartsease,” Ophelia said, her voice trembling with anticipation. She planned to take their lives, and then the lives of the other tribespeople, all because of what happened in the past—because of what Bomin’s father helped to start. How was it that the tribes fell so far from grace?

  When the Five Founders were defeated, one of the first things uttered by Patriarch Heartsease was, “Sin came. Man embraced it, and thus the cultivators came into existence, commanding death to walk before them. That is no longer true, for God has won. Never will we allow such evil to be born, nor shall we forget the light that shone upon us on this day. Let sin wallow in its pit, and let man bask in the sun.” The tribal leaders were supposed to keep to this undefined promise. By acting as the central leadership, they ended clan leaders fighting amongst themselves and allowed smaller clans to thrive without fear of their homes being taken from them or being forced into wars they wanted no part in. The tribes were the symbol of harmony, yet as the years passed, something had changed, and Bomin is unsure when.

  Displeasure had been mounting between the people and the tribes. They see Noctura as too controlling, withholding their services until full payments have been made. Nemesis is too strict, unwilling to see the world as grey, or at least when it comes to the lower clans. Adoptore is allowed to break the law in the name of keeping people from doing worse. Davar encourages the pursuit of knowledge, yet is willing to keep written accounts of unsavory business locked away at the behest of the tribes. Marmor is indecisive whether it wants to follow more closely to Nemesis’ principles, or their own. Then there is Heartsease, who gives up time, talent, and treasure, but is unwilling to govern as much as the other tribes.

  Bomin cannot even say he does not contribute to the problem, because Heartsease has become even more reclusive from the other tribes because of his aversion to Halo and Noctura. Their shortcomings have affected the clans under them and enabled the births of sinful cultivators. Ophelia is their fault.

  The death of his people is their fault.

  His family… will be their fault.

  When it is all a person’s fault, what are they to do? Consequences must be paid, but what if the price is not one a person is willing to give? Are they allowed to ask for help? Is Bomin allowed to? He is not sure if it is right or wrong, but Bomin does anyway.

  Walk with me as I go through the repercussions, for I am scared to walk alone. I don’t deny what we did, and if allowed to run away, I would surely do so, but here I am. I will face the monster born of negligence, although I ask that my wife and my children be spared. Let them not die for the choices we made, and let my children grow to make better ones. I ask this in Christ’s name… please. Let them live.

  —————

  The afternoon had left them when Bomin and his party attempted to lay siege to the mansion, yet there was still light when they were defeated, so it was abnormal to see the cloudless sky suddenly grow dark.

  Cian felt static in the air, a scholar’s term he had only encountered in writing, used to describe the invisible force said to cling to the glowing bulbs of Adoptore’s lights, and later associated with lightning. He peered at the sky, hardly listening to Madam Calypso speak. It did not seem right that he would become so distracted, yet Cian heard the whisper of something to come. That is when Cian felt it, a jolt within, a call he had not known the knife could give. It was somewhere close, finally making its presence known, and Cian turned his head every which way in search of it. He held his palm open, expecting it to soar into his hand, yet it kept its distance, and he did not understand why.

  “Patriarch Karna and Patriarch Benaiah graced our parched throats with the warmth of their blood, but we still thirst. You, last remaining children of Heartsease, be charitable and help elevate our thirst. Bleed for us, provide us strength, so that we may be triumphant against Halo, who next shall understand sin begets sin.” A chorus of shouts rose from the soldiers, and the serpent, once so intently sniffing its prey, raised its head, unhinging its jaw with a wicked snap. “Drink and be merry, for the wages of sin are death and the debt is now come due.”

  The knife is waiting for him underneath the archway that holds their tribe’s inscription. Cian figured this out a moment before lightning struck his uncle.