Kairos 21: Twice Born

One could see the smoke from the other side of the island.

Kairos couldn’t take his eyes off the skies. His grisly work darkened the clouds, a monument to death and destruction. Stymphalian birds flew circles in the skies above, cackling in diabolical joy. More of the dreaded flock had joined Horace, enticed by the smell of slaughter. Though Kairos forbade them from feeding on Travian corpses, they had enough Orthians to eat for weeks.

After the battle, Kairos had spent much effort trying to recover his followers’ remains for proper burials, though many had been lost at sea. Those they could recover had been lined up on the crescent-shaped beach near Histria, so their families could pay their last respects. So many had perished, that they kept the corpses in tight proximity not to run out of space.

Kairos even allowed Prince Critias to honor his mother’s remains, albeit under close surveillance. The pirate’s young hostage showed great stoicism in his prayers, kneeling before Timaea while begging Queen Persephone to show her soul mercy.

Kairos wondered if the prince would pray for his foolish father’s soul too. The captain had mercifully spared Critias the ugly details; having lost a father too at a young age, the [Hero] didn’t want to burden the child more than needed. Even one he abducted.

As for Cassandra…

Her body lay to rest in front of Kairos alongside her sword and shield; the [Hero] would have called her pose peaceful, if he could recognize her disfigured face. The Foresight’s officers, from Thales to Andromache, paid her their respect, though with various degrees of sincerity; Nessus, in particular, didn’t offer a prayer. As he stated long ago, he didn’t care for the dead. Castor had prayed the longest, and the most sincerely.

The man had feelings for Cassandra, and they seemed sincere. Kairos respected him a little more for that.

Neither had the fleet’s vessels escaped unscathed from this disastrous conflict. The Foresight was slowly regrowing its mast, the same way a tree sprung from fertile soil. Agron’s Bridgeburner galley had returned with two ships, all of them guided by Rook.

Kairos had kept ten ships in reserve to hit the Orthians’ rearguard, and they prevailed with heavy casualties. In total, only nine ships had survived the cataclysmic battle, all resting on the shore.

“Victory!” Agron shouted as he rejoined Kairos’ group, his fiery axe in one hand and an Orthian commander’s severed head in the other. Rhadamanthe followed at his side, though his mood soured when he identified Cass’ remains. “We slew the brave ones, and sent the cowards fleeing!”

“Glad you made it,” Kairos said, though he meant it for Rhadamanthe and Rook.

“I’m so happy you lived, Kairos!” Rook immediately landed at his partner’s feet in happiness, before deflating upon noticing Cass’ corpse. “Aw… no…”

“It was a close call,” Rhadamanthe said. “But a victory, however costly, is still a victory.”

“Their ships were better than ours, but the fire rods made the difference,” Agron said, giving Andromache a thankful nod. Out of all the pirate captains, that pyromaniac loved using those weapons the most. “Three of their ships managed to escape. The rest sank.”

The Orthians came with eighty ships.

Only three would return home.

By all metrics, this engagement had been a decisive, crushing Travian victory. And yet, why did it feel so damn bitter?

Congratulations. You earned two levels (total 34) and 6 Skill Points.

All of this, for two levels? He knew the experience had been spread to the entire army, but damn, Cass hadn’t been kidding about the grind—

Just the thought of Cassandra filled Kairos with anguish. “So this leaves us with nine ships.”

“Eight,” Castor said with an angry sneer. “I’m out.”

Kairos couldn’t say he was surprised, but he welcomed the news with silence. Agron replied with a scoff. “You were never in,” the minotaur mocked Castor.

“I was,” the dissenter protested, before glaring at Kairos. “I had my doubts, but Cassandra spoke so highly of you that I ignored them. Listening to her, you were the ideal captain, a young [Hero] that would lead our people to a golden age. But she was wrong, and now she’s dead because of you.”

“Careful,” Rhadamanthe said. “The Orthians killed Cassandra, not our captain.”

“Who decided to challenge the Orthians and to follow this insane course of action? Who abandoned his men to their death? Then again, what did I expect? You practiced with your uncle.”

Kairos’ spear moved an inch of Castor’s throat, startling the tributary captain. The [Hero]’s hand trembled, as he barely restrained himself from tearing that soft flesh out. “You know nothing,” Kairos snarled. “And if you cared about the others, why didn’t you turn around to rescue them? It’s so easy to accuse others of making hard choices, when you don’t have to face them yourself.”

Castor frowned back, but Kairos could tell his words had hit their mark. “I’m taking her back to Travia,” he said, pointing a finger at Cassandra’s corpse.

“No,” Kairos replied, as he lowered his spear.

“Then give her body to the sea,” Castor argued with a deepening scowl. “She doesn’t deserve to be buried in this cursed place, just another corpse crushed by your ambitions.”

“She was my family, not yours.” The young [Hero]’s tone harshened. “You may stay for her funeral and leave afterward, but if you mention my uncle's death in my presence again, you will die.”

The tributary glanced at the other people present, and in particular at Agron, whose hand itched to raise his axe. “You’re madder than the Furies you love so much,” Castor cursed Kairos, before turning around and returning to his ship. Most probably he would prepare his departure for tomorrow morning.

Agron snorted once the renegade was out of sight. “Do you want me to cut off his insolent tongue, Kairos?”

“No. There had been enough deaths for today.” Kairos sighed. “That didn’t go well.”

“If you ask me, it went as well as it could have,” Nessus said. He alone didn’t show any sorrow at the devastation he just witnessed.

“We defeated the Orthian fleet against overwhelming odds, but I wouldn’t call it a victory either,” Thales replied, more skeptical. “We lost two-thirds of our fleet and hundreds of people. Orthia has a greater pool of manpower to draw upon, while we… well, we don’t. They will return.”

Andromache showed her fangs, and the sight reminded Kairos of a smiling shark. “No, automaton, they will not.”

“How so?” Thales asked. “They cannot let such an insult stay unavenged.”

“They won’t do anything because while we had the prince,” Nessus explained while glancing at the mourning Critias, “now we have the king.”

Kairos immediately thought of a way out of this conflict.

If Sertorius had been correct, then this child was the only barrier left between Antipater and the throne. If the Orthian Queen Euthenia truly wished to keep the pro-Mithridates faction away from power, she couldn’t risk the boy’s death. She would have to negotiate a peace treaty, if she hoped to get him back. An agreement whose terms Kairos could dictate.

“While I doubt Orthia will risk another confrontation so long as we have their king, we can’t defend the colony with eight ships,” Rhadamanthe pointed out. “Any pirate warlord or invader worth their salt can push us out.”

Kairos crossed his arms. “There’s… there’s still an option. But there will be a price, and this victory already cost us enough.”

“Perhaps not.” Thales, as always, had an interesting proposal. “Sir, how about we test my theory?”

The [Hero] nodded slowly. At this point, they might as well try everything. “Give it to me.”

The automaton opened his chest compartment, and offered the burning feather kept hidden inside to Kairos. Nessus chuckled at the sight. “I wondered where you hid it, oh my captain.”

So did others. Kairos had found his tent ransacked after the battle, some of his guards having looted the place searching for the feather. Though the crew could recover everything they stole, it showed just how desperate the captain’s men had become.

“A most unexpected hiding spot, you will agree.” Considering the phoenix feather’s value, Kairos had given it to Thales for safekeeping. As an automaton, the shipwright had no one to raise from the dead. He alone wouldn’t have been tempted by its power, and none would expect a [Crafter] to keep something so precious on his person.

As he touched the artifact, Kairos sensed the comforting heat warm up his skin. Unlike the flames he unleashed upon Orthia, the feather’s made him feel at peace. A fire that gave life, instead of taking it.

The feather left nobody indifferent. Andromache watched it with longing and nostalgia, while Agron’s eyes flared with what could pass for religious zeal. And yet, none felt more conflicted than Kairos himself.

“Please,” the [Hero] prayed, as he faced his ship. Thales had grabbed a scroll, preparing to scribble notes. “Grant me a miracle.”

The [Hero] applied the feather to the Foresight’s bow. The burning artifact touched the enchanted boat, the two magics confronting one another. If only his ship could absorb the feather’s power, maybe… maybe it could undo this massacre.

Kairos waited several seconds, as everyone held their breath.

Nothing happened.

“Why isn’t it working?” Nessus wondered, as the Foresight refused to consume the feather and absorb its power.

Kairos didn’t understand why at first, but he quickly put the two and two together. He quickly checked the Foresight’s System information, to confirm it.

The [Foresight, Monstrous Ship] can absorb dead monsters’ parts and gain additional abilities from them.

“The Foresight can only consume dead monsters’ remains, and the phoenix yet lives.”

Most importantly, the fiery bird was a [Demigod], while Kairos was only a [Hero] yet. He probably couldn’t feed his ship creatures above his current Rank. The Foresight’s power depended on its master’s.

Kairos’ fist hit the bow in anger, his hope for an easy resolution dashed.

“I’m… I’m sorry, sir,” Thales said, just as disappointed as his superior. “I don’t know what to say. I truly thought it would work.”

“The phoenix is on the other side of the island, right?” Agron asked with greed. Apparently, he had heard the rumors from the scouts. “We can always find the bird, slay it, and feed what remains to the ship.”

Andromache scoffed. “One cannot slay a phoenix permanently. They return from the dead again and again, until a greater power extinguishes their embers. This paltry ship will never consume such a powerful entity.”

“The feather was a gift of the heavens,” Rhadamanthe said. “One life. No more, no less.”

Kairos looked at the feather with somber silence. Raising Cassandra from the dead with it seemed like the best option. She was his most loyal lieutenant, his confidant, the aunt he never had, and the most reasonable member of the crew. He couldn’t imagine himself sailing the Sunsea without her by his side.

But… it would mean he couldn’t raise the rest of his family from the dead either. He would never see them again.

And if Nessus was correct, the feather might be the only way to cross the island’s barrier. The dungeon and the mysteries beyond would remain beyond their grasp, at least until they figured out another way in.

“Some will ask why I didn’t raise their loved ones, and it will breed resentment,” Kairos said, as he glanced at his followers’ remains. Quite a few people stared at the feather, recognizing it from the rumors. “My brother and sister, father and uncle… they will stay in the Underworld.”

Nessus shrugged. “In an ideal world, no families would be broken by disease, war, or famine. The dead would rise, and the living would remain on this Earth forever. The land would be bountiful, and all the world’s tribes would live in harmony.”

“What are you getting at?” Kairos snapped in annoyance.

“This world is unfair and you can’t have it all.” Gone were the jokes and the laughs; the satyr’s tone had turned somber. “Take what you can get. The [Hero] Orpheus descended into the Underworld to get someone back, and he failed. All you have to do is to throw a barbecue. Yes, some people will be unhappy, and others will remain dead. But that’s life.”

“My siblings—”

“Died years ago, from what I was told. Move. On.” Kairos silently glared at the satyr, but Nessus wouldn’t shut up. “You can’t always look back to the past, or get blinded by the distant future, Kairos. You must learn to live in the present as well.”

Nobody else dared speak for several minutes. Perhaps they expected a fight to break out, for Kairos to slay the satyr where he stood. The tension in the air was so palpable, one could almost taste it.

And yet, Kairos pondered his crewmate’s words, wondering if there wasn’t some nugget of wisdom in them. “You joke often,” he said, “but on things that matter, you don’t mince your words.”

Nessus chuckled, switching from somber to playful. “I say the truth to power.”

His captain snorted. “Everyone, please leave us. Andromache, Nessus, Rhadamanthe, you stay.”

“Me too, Kairos?” Rook asked, standing near Cassandra’s body as if to shield it from attack. “I don’t want to leave her alone again. She always treated me well.”

“You can stay,” Kairos reassured his griffin, as those he had dismissed left. Rook immediately returned to his death watch.

The Foresight’s captain observed his remaining crewmates, and hesitated slightly. The course of action he had in mind would allow no turning back. His eyes lingered on Andromache in particular, whose beautiful, bored visage hid great savagery. It was hate born of pain and suffering, but while she suffered through many injustices, they shaped her into a vicious creature. Once unleashed, there was no telling what she would do.

And yet… and yet, he felt she deserved an act of mercy.

“Andromache,” Kairos said. “You saved my life twice. Once in Orthia, and again when fighting the fleet.”

“I have,” the Scylla said. “What of it?”

“You were bound to serve me until I died, but I already owe you my life twice over,” Kairos explained. “For this, I shall release you of your obligations towards me. I will grant you your freedom back, and Rhadamanthe shall be our witness.”

Andromache’s eyes widened, but her surprised expression quickly turned into a sneer. “Lies. Words are wind.”

“I’m quite sincere.” The [Hero] frowned. “I owe you my life.”

“If you release me, I will take it,” she warned, revealing her sharp teeth. “Nothing will stop me from feasting on your flesh and blood. I will tear you apart.”

“I do not believe you,” Kairos replied calmly. She wouldn’t warn him if she was sincere. “But you are welcome to try and fail.”

The Scylla scoffed, still too deep in her cynicism to believe him. The [Hero] turned to his satyr lieutenant next. “As for you, Nessus, though I can’t grasp your true intentions, you have been a courageous companion since the day we found you. You’ve paid the freedom price many times over.”

“My, have you grown attached to my person?” the satyr mused, putting his hands behind his head. “I would lie if I said I didn’t feel the same for you. You’re fun to hang out with, oh my captain.”

“Thus, I will grant you both your freedom,” the [Hero] said with a smile. “You will be free to leave my crew and find your own way into this world, or to stay at my side; no longer as oathbound servants, but as equal.”

“This is a lie,” Andromache insisted, clenching her jaw so tight her captain worried her fangs would shatter. “You will not dare. No human would—”

Kairos raised his spear and silenced her with words of his own. “The Furies be my witness,” he declared to the heavens, “I release you both from your oath. You are free from your obligations.”

The shadows around them lengthened, as the gods observed through their priest Rhadamanthe. Kairos sensed the magical link that bound him to his crewmates shatter, as the Furies no longer enforced it.

Once their surroundings returned to normal, Andromache was at loss of words. She examined her hand as if looking for invisible chains, or a trap that didn’t exist. “This is a trick,” the Scylla insisted, glaring at her former master. “You have another spell hidden!”

“There is no trick,” Rhadamanthe said while shaking his head. “The oath is undone. You are free.”

“So, you freed the Scylla after all the trouble we went through to bind her?” Nessus mused with a laugh. “You play with fire, oh my captain.”

“Mayhaps,” Kairos admitted, half-expecting Andromache to immediately blast him with fireballs. She wouldn’t, unless he had gravely misjudged, but he couldn’t erase that possibility. “But unlike a certain witch-goddess, I do reward faithful service.”

“Was that your reason?” Andromache snarled angrily, her staff raised at Kairos’ head. “To mock my station?”

“Have you little freedom, that you mistake it for an illusion?” Nessus taunted her, but stepped back once the Scylla threatened him with her weapon. “Hey, hey, careful with that thing…”

“I swear I’m not mocking you, Andromache,” Kairos promised the witch. “I stand by what I said before. I will help you gain audience with Orgonos to break your curse, if you wish for my assistance. Otherwise, you are also free to seek it alone.”

“You…” Andromache’s staff glittered with power, as she aimed it at Kairos’ throat. One fireball at this range would tear off his head. Yet, instead of cowering, the [Hero] held the witch’s gaze and silently dared her to attack him.

He noticed Rhadamanthe preparing to spellcast, and Nessus drawing his bow. None would help against Andromache’s invulnerability, but Kairos appreciated the gesture.

“You…” Andromache’s fingers trembled, like an archer within an inch of firing an arrow. Kairos could feel her raw rage and confusion at a man who made her a servant, and yet treated her with more respect than the gods themselves.

One of the humans she despised had shown her kindness, and it infuriated her.

The Scylla lowered her staff, and stormed away while cursing Kairos over seven generations. She violently pushed Nessus out of her way and walked towards the cold harsh sea, the colonists stepping out of her way.

Nessus let out a deep breath of relief. “Well, oh my captain, if you will excuse me, I shall celebrate this newfound freedom with a cup of wine. Just to be clear, I must still follow the charter to stay on the crew?”

“Yes,” Kairos said bluntly.

Nessus sighed. “You are a cruel, petty man, my captain, and you will be the death of me. Remember that when you drag me into the Underworld.”

And on these words, the satyr left while whistling a tune to himself.

Only one crewmate remained at Kairos’ side. “Rhadamanthe?”

“Why did you release them from the oath?” the minotaur asked. “The other reason.”

The [Hero] looked at Andromache. The Scylla had regained her true monstrous form, and meditated on a rock facing the waves. Perhaps she hoped to clear her thoughts. “Castor… wasn’t entirely wrong. Forcing a magical bond on her was no different than what Orthia did to its population. This oath is a crutch, and a slippery slope. It does not create loyalty, only bondage. It makes men fearful.”

He couldn’t build a long-lasting future on such weak foundations. Kairos now realized that his greed had led him to dangerous places, and the oath preyed on his darkest impulses. Binding others in his service through magic had become easy, and he needed to avoid further temptations.

“I pray you do not live to regret your choice, Kairos. The satyr is right, you play with fire.”

“You think I was wrong?”

“I did not say that. I simply wonder if you will feel at peace with your choice.”

“Is that why you remain, Rhadamanthe? To ask questions?”

The minotaur shook his head. “I thought that perhaps, you needed counsel. As a priest, it is my duty to offer guidance to those who are lost.”

Kairos smiled sadly. “Did Cassandra tell you who ordered the attack on Orthia?”

“No, but I am neither a fool nor blind. I have seen the ship that welcomed us at Pergamon.”

“I condemned Serras for the same mistake I committed, and good people like Eos and Cass paid it with their lives,” the young [Hero] lamented. “AndI’ve behaved like my uncle. Forgetting wisdom for fleeting glory.”

“You are young, Kairos,” Rhadamanthe said softly, “and you won too many victories too early. You earned them, yes, but only through defeat does one learn moderation.”

“So you foresaw something like this would happen?”

“Some lessons can only be taught by experience.”

Damned seers, they had an answer to everything. “I sacrificed so much for this island,” Kairos said, glancing at the open grave around him. “And now… now I can’t hold it alone.”

“You said you had an alternative.”

“Yes, but not without strings attached.”

With Mithridates’ plotting and his manpower shortage, Kairos couldn’t expect to preserve the colony without help. Otherwise, he would have to abandon the island to return to a life of wandering.

Rhadamanthe carefully chose his words. “The life of an adventurer is one of freedom and glory. The one of a ruler is one of compromises. Many [Heroes] carved out great kingdoms, but few of their conquests outlived them. You cannot build something that will last beyond your death alone.”

“If I marry the Lycean Republic, with all that implies, could I truly reform Travia?” Kairos asked. Rhadamanthe didn’t even seem surprised, as if he had already foreseen it. “I will accept a foreign power into my bed, in all the ways that count.”

“Your father was a Travian, your mother a Lycean. She gave you an education based on her motherland, if I am not mistaken. Yet, do you feel Lycean, or Travian?”

“Travian,” Kairos replied immediately.

“So will your people, then,” Rhadamanthe said. “Travia is not our nation by blood, Kairos. It is ours by choice. We have welcomed exiles from Achlys, Argos, Lyce, Thessala… yet our culture endured, for better or worse.”

“But Lyce is our ancestral enemy.”

Rhadamanthe glanced at Andromache. “Don’t you defeat your enemies, when you make them your friends?”

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

When the night came, Kairos had a pyre set for Cassandra. The other corpses were buried or abandoned to the sea, depending on the family’s beliefs.

Cassandra’s remains were laid to rest atop a pile of wood, alongside her sword and shield. A great crowd had gathered around her, to watch the ceremony. Even the hydra and Stymphalian birds were present, though they maintained a respectable distance from the humans.

Most observed in respectful silence, but Kairos could feel some glaring at his back.

Some families had pleaded with him to raise their loved ones. Argued with him, begged him. Threatened him too, with one man even raising a knife and getting a broken arm for it. 

If he could, he would have raised everyone from the dead. But ultimately, as Nessus stated, the world was unfair and there was no perfect solution. Kairos could only attempt to raise one person, and he had made his choice.

The [Hero] had lifted the tributaries’ oath, making clear that they could either follow him out of their own free-will or leave without turning back. He wouldn’t take quitters back into his service.

Six ships remained, excluding the Foresight; two had returned to Travia, never to return, and Castor would remain only until the end of the ceremony. Surprisingly, Agron was among the tributaries who had remained loyal. “Why did you stay?” Kairos asked the fearsome minotaur, as he lit a torch.

“The others see the losses, I see the triumph,” the minotaur said with a shrug. “I will follow you, so long as you keep winning.”

Well, at least he could take orders, unlike Serras. Perhaps Kairos had misjudged the minotaur; he could have some use.

The [Hero] took a step forward, and set the pyre ablaze. Flames spread through the wood, and soon turned into a blazing inferno.

Kairos silently watched as the fire consumed Cassandra’s remains, before glancing at the other people present. Rook waited at his partner’s feet; Rhadamanthe offered the customary prayers; Castor scowled, half-expecting the performance to fail; Nessus crossed his arms, and watched somberly; the young Orion observed the scene with a mix of anxiety and anticipation; Thales, that man of science, wrote down his observations on a scroll, so he could document everything.

And Andromache…

She didn’t look at the pyre, but at Kairos himself. He could see so many conflicting emotions in her gaze. Anger. Resentment. Disbelief. Confusion. And… something else. Something warmer.

The Scylla looked away when their eyes met, avoiding Kairos’ gaze. He had the feeling she would come have a word with him afterward.

Banishing these thoughts, the [Hero] held the phoenix feather before the flames, basking in its radiance. He could sense the gazes on his back, his fingers trembling in anticipation.

He had been granted a second chance.

He wouldn’t waste it.

As for the barrier around the island… if a Nemean Lion could cross it like the phoenix, then there were alternatives. He would figure them out in due time.

With a deep breath, Kairos let the feather fall into the pyre’s embers once Cassandra’s remains had long turned to ashes. The artifact slowly descended upon the burnt wood, while Rook wagged his tail in anticipation.

The feather shone like the sun the moment it touched Cassandra’s ashes.

Its brightness turned so blinding, that Kairos had to raise his hand to protect his eyes. Onlookers squealed and gasped and stepped back, as the pyre burnt anew with white, ethereal flames.

The ashes and bones swirled around the shining feather, gathering into the shape of a woman. The fire grew wilder, and yet its warmth only soothed the onlookers.

When the light lessened and Kairos could see at last, Cassandra stood on the pyre, naked as the day she was born. She carried her shield and sword in each hand like Athena emerging from mighty Zeus’ skull. Her expression was one of pure shock and surprise; her breath shortened, as her eyes wandered around.

The flames refused to touch her, and a divine power suffused her skin. Old scars had vanished, her skin now as lustrous as bronze. Her body radiated with warmth and vitality, and she seemed younger by many years.

Kairos only had to take a look with [Observer] to confirm his suspicions.

Cassandra Bato

Legend: Twice-Born (Elite)

Race: Human

Class: Fighter (Shieldmaiden, Myrmidon, Vanguard, Reaver)

Level: 36

Cassandra had perished a normal woman, and risen again as a [Legend].

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