Kairos 41: Volume One Epilogue

Out of all the things Kairos had seen in his life, a gorgon officiating a wedding ceremony would rank among the strangest.

And yet Euryale stood before him, the ancient horror having raised a stone altar beneath a colossal, twisted thorn tree near her house. Kairos could feel reptilian eyes watching them from the shadows.

Andromache held Kairos’ arm with her own, wearing a refined peplos dress, immaculate and woven with golden strands. She wore no jewelry, except the necklace that her lover gifted her. Her face was solemn, her gaze distant.

Truthfully, a signed scroll was all that was needed to recognize their relationship. Concubines in Travia were usually captives taken by force by unsavory pirate lords, or men and women from poor families. Some like Teuta used the system to form political alliances with clans by ‘marrying’ multiple companions, from what Kairos had heard.

But both Kairos and Andromache wanted a religious ceremony, and though she had long renounced her loyalty to the late Athena, Euryale had once been a vestal. She had access to the [Priest] Class Specialization, and thus could bind people before the gods old and new. Andromache hadn’t wanted anyone else.

The [Hero]’s eyes wandered to the few guests, who observed the scene with quiet respect as Euryale said the customary prayers. Since she couldn’t be present for his wedding with Julia, his mother Aurelia had insisted on coming to see this one. Cassandra was present as a witness, a hand on the [Fork of Nemesis], while an intimidated Tiberius scribbled on a scroll. The rest of the ‘guests’ included Rook, Delphyne the hydra, Horace, and a host of basilisks.

Kairos would have preferred a larger ceremony before the crew, but Andromache had insisted on something smaller and more intimate. There was no dowry to give, no gifts for the newlywed, no elaborate feast. The Scylla would never have the same official status as a true wife. Neither did she care about protocol, appearances, or material benefits.

She only wanted him.

“It is time,” Euryale said, presenting a sharp bone knife and a metal chalice to the couple. “Two bloodlines must unite.”

Kairos took the knife carefully, and swiftly slashed his left palm across it. The blade was so sharp he didn’t even feel pain as it peeled his skin away, blood dripping from his hand into the chalice.

Then Andromache offered him her right hand. Kairos gently took it, his blood tainting her immaculate fingers red. “It might hurt,” he whispered, raising the blade.

“You burnt me once,” she replied. “This time, the pain will be rapturous.”

Kairos took a deep breath, and slashed her left hand. The cut was lighter than his own, but his [Legend Slayer] Skill bypassed her invulnerability all the same. A light drop of the Scylla’s blood flowed down into the chalice, the couple’s body fluids mixing. Kairos could have sworn he saw a face’s reflection in the mixture, the chalice thrumming as if alive.

“It is done,” Euryale said, as she put the vessel and bone knife on the altar. She cast a spell, the wounds closing but leaving blood behind. “Two hearts beating as one.”

Kairos faced Andromache, taking her left hand into his right one. Her blood was warmer than his own, like liquid fire. “No regrets?” his mistress asked softly, her eyes brimming with anxiety. Even now, she worried he might back out.

“None,” Kairos replied, before kissing her on the mouth. She welcomed his lips with love and affection, his tongue brushing against her sharp, shark-like teeth. The guests cheered, croaked, and hissed in response. Aurelia struggled to hold back a tear, Cassandra grinned ear to ear, and the timid Tiberius relaxed. Even Euryale cracked a smile, which Kairos found downright frightening.

You have formed a [Blood Pact] with [Andromache, Scylla of Scheria].

Eventually, the couple broke the kiss, their foreheads touching each other.

Only death could break them apart now.

“My former minion is all grown up,” Delphyne the hydra preened. The number of her heads had gone down to five, after the amazons had been a bit too zealous in cauterizing the extra ones.

“Because I was there to protect him,” Rook boasted with pride, showing off his chest. “Now he has two nests, and he will have many eggs!”

“That’s one too many to feed,” Horace replied, always the downer. “Maintaining two nests is a precarious position.”

“The bird has a point,” Aurelia said, as she approached the couple. “You have chosen a difficult path, my son, but I am certain you will prove wise.”

“Thank you for coming,” Andromache told her mother-in-law. “You have been… a good counselor.”

A polite way to say she had prevented a blood feud between the Scylla and Julia. Kairos strongly suspected that Aurelia labored behind his back to foster peace in this strange family clan.

“Please do not call me mother, and we shall be even,” the werewolf replied with a chuckle, being younger than the Scylla by many centuries. “I would love to see grandchildren in my lifetime though.”

“So eager to become a grandmother?” Cassandra asked her best friend.

“I have done all I can to see our line perpetuate,” Aurelia replied, giving Kairos a knowing gaze.

“Though children by this union will come after Lady Julia’s line in the inheritance, they will be legitimate,” Tiberius said, having filled the necessary paperwork. The young man had proven himself far more effective as an administrative assistant than as a warrior, and Kairos strongly considered giving him bigger responsibilities in the colony. “They will belong to the House of Marius in name as well as in deeds.”

“We won’t have children yet,” Kairos said, since there was still the matter of the curse to deal with.

“But soon,” Andromache added, her nails sinking into her paramour’s arm. “Soon.”

The answer satisfied Aurelia, while Cass took the opportunity to present Kairos with a familiar blade. It had been reforged recently, but the griffin symbols on the ceremonial sword couldn’t be mistaken.

“You found it?” Kairos asked, astonished. He had lost that blade in the first battle with the Argo, the sword swallowed by the waves.

“General Petra had divers recover it, at my request,” Cass explained with a grin. “It may seem cheap to offer the same gift twice, but I thought the symbolism made up for it.”

Indeed. Cassandra had given Kairos this sword during his wedding to Julia. The fact she offered it again after this ceremony meant she put both relationships on an equal status. “I’m still bitter about that dragon,” Kairos said, accepting the gift and sheathing it around his belt. “If the Achlysians had given us the corpse, the Foresight could have grown wings.”

“It was their queen’s mount, and dragons’ corpses hold a lot of crafting material. We will have to kill our own dragon, but thankfully, we already know where to find one.”

Indeed. They would take the fight to Mithridates soon. This time he would be on the defensive, and Kairos would keep the initiative.

“No hard feelings?” Andromache asked Cassandra, her former romantic rival.

“I have moved on,” Cassandra said. “It is unwise to dwell on what could have been. I would rather look forward and live without regret.”

Kairos noticed Tiberius sending an indecipherable glance at Cassandra while she didn’t look. His eyes crossed that of the [Hero], who gave him a nod. If the kind Lycean wanted to try his luck with Cass, he would have Kairos’ blessings.

“I have gifts of my own.” Euryale’s voice made Cassandra and Tiberius flinch, though Aurelia remained unfazed. The ancient spellcaster snapped her claws together, and undead servants emerged from the tree with a black iron chest. They dropped it before Kairos’ eyes, and lifted the lid to reveal its contents.

Eggs.

Large eggs the size of an adult human’s fist, covered in blackened scales with strains and ripples of crimson. The surface simmered in the faint sunlight, like pure obsidian, and released harmless scarlet fumes upon being exposed to the bog’s foul air. Other eggs were smaller, their surface so black they seemed to consume light itself.

“Basilisk eggs?” Kairos could barely restrain his excitement.

“Some, but not all,” the gorgon said. “Others are hydra eggs, fertilized by basilisks. The resulting hybrid should be suitably useful for your future wars. A king of monsters should have fearsome subjects, don’t you think?”

“Will you come for the coronation, Teacher?” Andromache asked with respect.

The ancient [Demigoddess] laughed. “Your people would desert this island if I did,” she said, “but I shall watch from afar.”

“Thank you, wise one.” Kairos politely bowed to Euryale, as her servants closed the chest. “This gift shall not be wasted.”

“Speaking of the coronation, we have little time left, my son,” Aurelia said, the matter making her uneasy. “We still have a long way before we can return to Histria, even on horses.”

“An hour more,” Andromache said, looking at her paramour. “I want a honeymoon, even if it lasts an hour.”

“We’ll pack our things and wait for you,” Cass said, before looking at Tiberius. “Can you help me carry the eggs on our horses?”

“Y-yes, certainly,” the young Lycean said, hurrying to obey.

“I would have suggested eating a few eggs on the way,” Horace croaked, causing the hydra to glare at him. “I wouldn’t, they’re poisoned.”

Kairos ignored them, as his concubine guided him towards the poisonous waters. They sat on the grass near the riverbank, safely away from the liquid; though both were immune to the marsh’s toxicity, better safe than sorry.

“Sorry we couldn’t dig a spring in time,” Kairos apologized to his concubine, putting his arms around her waist and holding her tight. “I know you would have preferred that we be wed before one.”

“I will have one built beneath my lighthouse, for our eyes only,” Andromache replied softly, her bloodied hands on his own, her head resting on his shoulder. “It is the people who matter, Kairos, not the place.”

The fact that she had agreed to have guests at all warmed Kairos’ heart. “I still remember the days when you hated us all.”

“And now I have bound myself to a mortal man. A year ago I would have laughed at the possibility.” She chuckled to herself. “Did the thought cross your mind, when you claimed me beneath your tent? Or would you have set me aside like Jason with Medea?”

“The thought of claiming you as a wife crossed my mind, yes,” Kairos replied. “As for abandoning you… it is true I have high ambitions, but not high enough to sacrifice those I love.”

Perhaps that was the only thing separating him from Mithridates. In the end, everything Kairos did was in the name of improving his loved ones and countrymen’s lives.

“I never thought I would marry, let myself be talked into becoming a concubine,” Andromache said. “Before Circe cursed me, I ruled countless men like a lion over lesser beasts. They existed to please me and nothing else.”

“Do you want me to satisfy you more than all these men put together?” Kairos nibbled her ear, which pleased her. “That’s worth a Quest.”

“You will prove adequate,” she mused playfully, before her expression turned serious once more. “The blood pact is unbreakable, my other half. As much as this marriage agreement with your wife. You understand that?”

“I do.” With it, they could each locate each other, even sense their partner’s demise. “You are mine, and I am yours.”

“Before you came, my other half, I thought I would perish alone on that island,” Andromache said. “When you took me away, I swore that I would outlive you. Maybe I still will. That [Golden Fleece] will give you more time than most mortals, but if it is stolen or destroyed…”

“I could become a [God],” Kairos said with optimism. “Or find an alternative. To each problem, there is an appropriate solution.”

“I hope you shall find one, but I can count on one hand the number of [Heroes] who ascended or lived a long, happy life. Most perish young.”

“Perhaps you will live two hundred years after me, maybe more,” Kairos conceded. “But the years we had together will feel all the more important, no?”

“I would rather have you live forever at my side,” she said. “We could set this coming war aside, retire to the woods like Euryale. Live together, only the two of us and our future offsprings.”

“You know I can never do that,” Kairos replied. “I have a duty to my people.”

“I do,” the witch said with a sigh, “I told you back then, I shall accept you as you are, my greedy man. But it would have been a happier life. A king’s life is one of constant wars, some waged with swords, others with plots.”

“And with you at my side, I will win them all.”

Andromache smiled, a warm, beaming expression of blissful happiness. It was all the more precious because it was so rare. “Let us conquer the world then. Together.”

He kissed her again, and this time wished it could have lasted forever.

-------------------------------------------

There was a season for all things. A time to destroy, a time to create.

As autumn neared its end and the harsh winter approached, the moment had come for Kairos to make his bid for leadership. Not just of Histria, but Travia as a whole. It was time for the pirate lords to unite for their prosperity, and eventually, to expand into Thessala. Orthia would certainly wage war on Histria again after the winter season, and they should prepare for the inevitable conflict now.

The ceremony was held at dawn, with Histria’s population gathering in its central, cobbled plaza near Kairos’ manor. The population had grown rapidly since the Travians first settled the island, and the arrival of soldiers had only exacerbated this development. Thousands had come for this historic day, the streets overflowing with people.

Histria was a motley community. Most were humans, but the city also welcomed minotaurs, automatons, satyrs, and even a few centaurs; and of course, Kairos knew the werewolves among them. Foreigners from Achlys led by General Petra had settled there, to serve as mercenaries. Stymphalian birds covered the roof by the thousands, an army of beaks and talons.

Such a gathering should have been a recipe for disaster, and yet, they had united under a single banner.

The debate about who should put the crown on Kairos’ head had been surprisingly heated. Julia had tried to defend her claim to it, before his Travian officers pointed out that their captain would be forever seen as a client-king of Lyce if she did. Neither would Andromache fit, due to her monstrous nature, and with Rhadamanthe gone, there was no priest of sufficient standing to serve as an alternative.

In the end, though it might seem arrogant, Kairos had decided to crown himself. He would live and die by his own merits.

And so, as people gathered in Histria’s central plaza near his manor, Kairos observed the situation from above. He rode on Rook’s back, hidden behind a veil of invisibility, the [Hydra Crown] weighing heavily on his head. A gemstone diadem equipped with hydra fangs, the artifact provided Kairos with a minor variant of the hydras’ native [Regeneration], alongside other magical protections. Andromache had crafted this regalia herself, and it was by far her greatest work. Fearsome, yet beautiful.

Kairos had completed his attire with the [Golden Fleece], wearing it as a cloak; his [Anemoi Spear], the weapon that had served him above all else; and a scroll, held within his bandaged right hand. This piece of paper might be the most important item of them all.

All his artifacts had been created by others, but this scroll would remain Kairos’ legacy long after he was gone.

“Will I get a crown too?” Rook asked, the noise from below utterly incomprehensible.

“In time,” Kairos promised him, petting his friend behind the ear with his left fingers. “Thank you, Rook.”

“For what?”

“For everything,” Kairos said, from the bottom of his heart, “for being my friend for many long years, for helping me fight my battles, for carrying me to the skies, and for lifting my spirits when the situation felt hopeless.”

“Kairos, I am your friend and your hatch brother, that’s in my title! Friends don’t count favors! They’re in it for life!”

“Yeah,” Kairos replied, “but still, thank you.”

“If you really, really want to thank me though,” Rook said, wagging his tail, “I want my head on your coins, like you promised!”

Kairos laughed. “Already planned, buddy.”

His eyes wandered to the plaza, checking on the faces of all his loved ones. The walking Foresight stood in the area’s center, serving as a stage. His wife Julia sat near the hull, next to her mother-in-law Aurelia. Kairos’ brother-in-law Sertorius occupied the seat closest to them, and traded words with Dispater and General Petra. Their presence as foreign dignitaries would give the event international recognition. Caenis and Andromache stood behind the dignitaries in silence, almost invisible. Kairos’ concubine gazed at the skies with an indecipherable look, while Julia’s companion looked at the crowd with worry.

Kairos’ officers occupied the places behind them, with Cassandra at the forefront. Wearing the same dress she used at her captain’s wedding and wielding the [Fork of Nemesis], she looked like a goddess incarnate. Nessus and Thales were trying to teach Agron how to play the [Lyre of Orpheus], but the brazen minotaur only managed to make dreadful, hideous notes. Chloris and Horace watched the scene in amusement, while Tiberius was patiently writing down notes on a scroll. Dozens of tributary captains occupied the deck, having pledged their ships and support to the colony.

The rest of Kairos’ crewmates, old and new, occupied the ground below the ship, from Dag the raider to Longtooth Longarus and even Astraea. Orion too. Their families occupied the space nearest to them. Spot the cerberus stood watchfully next to Rhadamanthe’s widow, as if to protect her from danger.

For a moment, Kairos could have sworn he saw Captain Castor’s face in the crowd, but he had vanished. His ship, the Longstrider, hadn’t been seen at the port, so Kairos thought he had been mistaken… but still, it worried him.

“The lighthouse, Kairos,” Rook whispered. The Travian [Hero] looked in the building’s direction, noticing Euryale and her hydra gazing at the celebration from afar, unseen by the city’s inhabitants.

So many people, and yet faces were missing. Rhadamanthe, Uncle Panos, Eos, and all the people who died for Kairos’ dream. Even now, he imagined their ghosts standing in the crowd, smiling. He wanted to think they approved of Kairos’ deeds, that they bore no grudge against him. He prayed for their forgiveness.

No, he shouldn’t think like that. It was too late for regret.

He had thrown the dice long ago.

“Now,” Kairos said softly, as he lifted his invisibility.

Rook let out a screech and dived down, his rider raising the winds with his spear. A powerful gust blew over the plaza, catching everyone’s attention. People cheered when they caught sight of the duo in the skies, much to Rook’s happiness. The griffin made turns in the skies above the crowd, basking in its acclamations.

After a moment, Kairos had Rook hover in place in front of the plaza and slightly above the Foresight’s deck. Julia smiled ear to ear, as did his mother, Andromache, and so many others. Nessus, that jester, whistled. “Naked!” he shouted, Cassandra giving him a clout on the head for his trouble.

“Citizens of Histria!” Kairos shouted, his [Speech 3] Skill allowing his voice to cut through the noise. His [Golden Fleece] flowed with the wind, for added effect. “I come to you today, following the path we set together! The path of glory!”

A deafening hurrah answered his boast.

“We left our homeland of Travia as sheepherders and pirates, only to become conquerors and city-builders! We traded hides for swords, barren soils for fertile lands! We claimed the ill-gotten wealth of the Orthian kings! To their slaves we gave freedom, and the strength to defend themselves! Many of them stand among you today, no longer servants and prisoners, but free men and women! When the Orthians came to bring us chains, we gave them flames and seawater! We made this island our own, spreading abundance from its fields and mines! And now we defeated the Argonauts themselves!

“These victories and prosperity were paid in blood, for those who live by the sword will one day perish by it. And yet, while we shed the blood of our enemies, we also turned old foes into friends.” Kairos glanced at the foreign dignitaries. “I have a Lycean woman as my wife, given the skies to the birds of Ares, invited amazons to marry our men and settle on our shores. Some doubt these measures, but as an old companion once told me: you defeat your enemies when you make them your friends. Whatever past we may have shared, those reaching out for our hand shall be given an olive branch; those who would want us harm, shall receive a knife to the throat.”

Gold or steel. These shall be his city’s words.

“You acclaimed me king on a foreign land, and this role I shall accept, but unlike the petty Thessalan kings of the East, I shall not rule alone.” Kairos unfurled his scroll. “After weeks of labor, the captains and landowners of our colony drafted the laws by which we shall live and die by!”

Kairos raised the scroll above his head, its letters shining with magic.

“The first Travian constitution!”

The light show, purely cosmetic, had the desired effect of awing the audience. Julia chuckled, having had the idea.

“All landowners and ship captains will have a voice in our government, and through them, all citizens of Travia! And I say Travia, not just Histria! For the city of Lissala chose to join our alliance, and more will follow! The era of city-states and warlords must end! From now on, we shall form a single government, a single federation, a single nation!”

Kairos gathered his breath, before raising his spear and shaping, dissipating the clouds.

“The Travian Freehold!” he announced, the sun shining in the cleared skies.

The roars that answered his proclamation were deafening. The walls of half-built houses seemed to shake, and the disturbed Stymphalian birds flew above the crowd in response.

“I invite the pirate lords and cities of Travia to join our federation!” Kairos said, his fleece glittering in the sunlight. “It is time for our nation to unite, and to march onwards a brighter tomorrow!”

“KAIROS!” The Travian had no idea who called his name first, but all men and women on the ground followed. “KAIROS! KAIROS!”

“ALL HAIL THE PIRATE KING!”

“ALL HAIL THE SELLSWORD KING!”

More acclamations came, as did the cheers and the clapping; none louder than Kairos’ family. Aurelia was on the verge of tears, Sertorius nodded at his brother-in-law with quiet satisfaction, while Andromache and Julia both warmly smiled at him. His crewmates, his brothers and sisters in arms who had stuck with him through his victories and defeats, acclaimed their captain. Rook let out a final screech of victory, wings extended.

Congratulations, you earned a level (total forty-seven) and three Skill Points.

Andromache had been right, Kairos would face many wars and foes from now on.

But he wouldn’t face them alone.

-----------------------------------------

In the depth of the Necromanteion, great gates of bones and blackened stone faced a fiery altar taller than a hill.

A great bird of flames slept at its center, his light illuminating the temple. Shades stayed away from his divine radiance, like rats retreating at the sight of the burning sun. For months the phoenix had slumbered in this place below the earth, waiting. Waiting for the stars to align, and the gates to open.

One of his tail’s feathers was missing, granted as a gift to the mortals who helped him hatch. A brief moment of mercy, and the last one he would ever give. For it was anger that fueled his fire. He was a dying goddess’ curse upon these upstart mortals, who dared to overthrow their creators and make themselves gods.

But to each act of hubris, a nemesis.

His imprisoned kindred called from the other side of this door. He could hear their silent wails, their prayers for freedom and revenge. He would answer them in time, but the moment had not yet come. The body was ready, but the soul was missing. The phoenix was a husk waiting to be filled. An incomplete vessel, driven by instinct.

But in time, the doors would open, and he shall remember his name.

His sun would rise again.

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In the safety of his war room, King Mithridates of Pergamon looked at his homeland’s map.

More than a hundred city-states formed the Thessalan League, split among just as many islands. Some were home to hundreds of thousands, others could barely muster a garrison. An outsider would have seen a hundred small countries.

This division was an illusion. There was but one realm, one nation, one culture. Together, all these splinters could form an unbreakable sword. And like all weapons, it only needed one thing to truly prosper.

The right hand to wield it.

After the Olympic Games, the city-states of the Thessalan League would elect the new Strategos for the next four years. This official was in charge of organizing the loose military alliance’s defenses, a post that would suit Mithridates well.

His ally Antipater had secured control over the Orthian army, and though Euthenia argued for peace, Mithridates would deal with her in time. With Orthia firmly under his thumb, Mithridates had enough votes to secure his election as the League’s Strategos. Afterward, he could finally enact the sweeping changes his nation desperately needed to survive.

The city-state of Thessala would either fall in line, or provide Mithridates with an excuse to bring this fading sun to heel. The key was their [Demigod] Talos, and the Poison King knew his weakness.

The true threats to his plans lay elsewhere. Pro-Lycean cities might try to secede, or invite foreign powers to intervene. Antipater wanted to avenge the destruction of Lysander’s fleet by razing Histria, and though Mithridates gave him his blessing, Kairos was not to be underestimated. The [Rogue] had proven himself a resourceful foe, and formed powerful alliances. This military expedition had to be planned with care.

Lyce in the west. Travia in the north. Vali in the south. Orichalcos below the waves.

The Poison King had allies among all of these nations, but many enemies too. Mithridates had to divide them while he consolidated his hold on the League and his engineers finished building his secret weapon. If he could complete it in time, then none would dare invade his shores.

Mithridates would act swiftly and decisively.

His assistant Absyrtus interrupted his meditations, holding something in a black cloth. “Your Majesty? We have received urgent news.”

“From General Zama?” Had the old lion finally decided to leave his den and battle the wolves?

“No, Your Majesty, from Travia. Kairos Marius Remus declared himself pirate king, and asked the other pirate lords to help him form a new Travian federation.”

The news didn’t come as a surprise to Mithridates, who expected something similar after the Travian’s victory in Moros. This had cost the Pergamonian king the life of Medea, and the full support of Achlys. With Mithridates’ ancestor gone, the amazons wouldn’t take a clear side.

I should have sliced his Travian throat when I had the chance, the King of Pergamon thought. But I can still correct that mistake. “Send a message to Queen Teuta.”

“What will it be, Your Majesty?” Absyrtus asked, though he already knew the answer.

“To prepare for war, and to win it.” Mithridates glanced at his assistant’s hands. “What do you bring me?”

“Hope, Your Majesty.” Absyrtus put the cloth on the table, and unveiled what it hid. “Our allies found it at last.”

Mithridates prized himself in his self-control, but he couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear.

His assistant had brought him a golden spear, with two sharp sapphires for blades at the tip. The central one at the top was missing, as was half of the shaft, but Mithridates immediately identified the relic for what it was.

A broken trident.

“This is more than hope, Absyrtus,” Mithridates replied, as he seized the weapon for himself. The broken trident’s two remaining blades shone with a blue light, rings of water materializing around them.

“This is victory.”

-------------------------------------------

The warm blood flowed on the stone altar.

The werewolf licked her fangs, as she stared into the sacrifice’s eyes. Strong chains bound a pitiful, elderly man to the stone. He had looked so strong in his praetor armor, but naked, he was just another sheep. The priestess had filled his mouth with an apple, like a pig, before clawing his chest. The smell of blood aroused her, the warm fluid shining under the moonlight.

Her fellow werewolves circled the altar, barely restraining themselves from devouring the man’s flesh. The priestess would have done far worse than wounding the sacrifice, if she could. But alas, his life didn’t belong to her.

It belonged to the Wolf-Father.

“Your blood, yes,” the priestess whispered to the sacrifice, his sweet blood flowing down the stone. “I remember the smell, Gaius Papirus Junius. I remember how you came to my family’s house with your soldiers. How you seized my house and slew my brothers, before forcing me to flee for my life. How you condemned me to exile and death. Do you remember too?”

He did. She could see it in his terrified eyes.

Once she had been a weaver, before the wolf-gift manifested. She had served the Lycean Republic loyally, and she would have died for it like her father did, and her ancestors before him. She would have bore strong sons to defend her country.

Instead, she had been chased into the wilderness, her line’s name stricken from the records. She would have perished there, either from starvation or a soldier’s gladius, if the pack hadn’t taken her in. They had shown her that her curse was a divine gift. That she could fight back. That one day the Wolf-God would break his chains, and free his children from oppression.

And in preparation for this day, he had sent his chosen people a savior.

A humanoid figure oversaw the bloody ceremony, a tall warrior in thick armor. The moonlight reflected on his funeral mask, like the grim visage of death itself. His sword, too heavy for men to wield, rested in its sheath.

“Ave Romulus, Legate of Lycaon, Master of the Great Hunt!” The wolf priestess knelt in the grass. The other wolves prostrated themselves too, before their god’s champion. “We offer you the blood of thine enemy, the last scion of House of the Papirii!”

The armored figure looked down at the priestess, his eyes oozing nothing but pitch black darkness, even in the holy moonlight. Then he turned to the sacrifice, and unsheathed his sword.

Gaius Papirus Junius tried to scream, to break free, but the chains were strong. His eyes begged, like the priestess did when his soldiers came for her head.

Lord Romulus showed him no mercy. His blade impaled the sacrifice’s chest and cut the heart, the warm blood tainting the sword red. Smokes swirled out of the dead man’s rib cage, his life extinguished alongside his line.

“With his death, another chain is broken!” the priestess rejoiced. “The wolves will rule again!”

“Another chain is broken!” The werewolves howled as one. “The wolves will rule again!”

Romulus turned his back on his congregation, to face a tall, thick obelisk. A list of fifty names were inscribed on the stone, one for each family holding the Wolf-God imprisoned. The Legate of Lycaon searched for the name ‘Papirii,’ and sliced it across with the bloodied sword.

It was the eighteenth name to be barred from the list, and yet so many remained.

Romulus’ dark gaze traveled down the list. Cornelii, Lucretii… Flavii.

He spoke only one word, heavy with hatred and curses.

“Soon.”

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A/N: book made possible by you, dear patrons.

And this concludes the first volume of Kairos. Some secrets will be kept for later volumes, such as Nessus' true identity, but I hope this conclusion leaves you satisfied. 

I will be taking a short week break from that story to both edit the first volume and outline the second, so Kairos will return on June 22nd. As Kairos will eventually find its way to KU as per an edition deal with Aethon, I will add a pdf version for you patrons to download.

Otherwise, what would you like to have in the second volume? I believe there will be a stronger focus on dungeon-delving and kingdom-building, but as it is in early planning stages, if you loved something or would like to explore more parts of the world I didn't delve into this volume, please say so in the comment below.

In any case, I hope you enjoyed this volume, and see you for the next. 

Best regards,

Voidy.