Amaro laid on his back staring at his new sword. It had been the ‘surprise’ his father had promised. It was a silver khopesh named Quinrai. Its question mark shape ended in a sharp angle at every bend. Amaro channeled only the smallest amount of magic into it and he could hear it hum to life. It buzzed when it moved through the air, small channels in the blade glowing a faint purple.

The more he channeled into it, the brighter it glowed. The weapon was made from something his father had called ‘Galvani Silver’ which was supposedly stronger than steel while not sacrificing silver’s inherent monster slaying properties.

Amaro hadn’t been the only one to receive a gift either. Anitus had been given a greatsword named Dumah. It was also made from an especially rare enchanted metal called Surtr Steel. It was the best metal for fire enchantments. Dumah could also apparently enchant any flames channeled into it with celestial power. Supposedly this had a similar monster slaying property to silver.

Two incredibly rare and powerful weapons meant for killing Malaki. Amaro should have seen it as his father’s way of offering them protection when they entered the wilds of the Altix.

Amaro didn’t see it that way. He saw the gifts as self gratification. He saw them as the first sentence in a grand story his father was writing for them.

It was a way to attach his name to whatever history they made for themselves. If Amaro’s story was ever told a hundred years from now, they’d always tell of how the great Godslayer Kadmus bestowed upon them the legendary sword Quinrai which he used to slay countless foes.

No matter what he accomplished, it was because his father had gifted them the power.

Because his ancestors were born better.

Soon enough, his own children would be stuck in the same shadow.

It was times like these, when Amaro had nothing to do, and while he was alone in bed at night, that he remembered the day he’d gotten the scar on the bridge of his nose.

It tingled as he recalled it, almost like it was reopening just at the memory of what happened that day.

It was almost five years ago today. His father had been appointed as the head of the Xirxus house, and they were all attending his coronation. Amaro remembered playing with his cousins and the children of allied noble houses. He looked upon those memories with such a pleasant fondness that he wanted only to remember that part.

His little sister, Sancta, now a meek young woman who often hid behind him whenever they were in public, had been a lot more rambunctious and rowdy tomboy before that day.

They had often wrestled around with one another back then. A wrestling match between two children of the Xirxus bloodline was far more destructive than one between ordinary xiozian children. Magical power flinging in every direction, knocking over chairs, warping nearby wood floors as they grew into grasping vines. Amaro was as gentle as he could be with her whenever they did wrestle.

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Pinning her down, tickling her as she tried to coil those magical vines around his body and pull him off. Sacta hadn’t known the strength of her magical powers, and had ended up flinging Amaro through an assortment of flowers and appetizers.

Amaro remembered the dead silence that had overtaken the coronation. Amaro’s crash had sent luxurious pastries and honeyed meats into the ceremonial robes of his father. Staining the centuries old silk with wine until it had been thoroughly ruined. The table he’d landed on had been broken in two, and his sister had frozen in place like an elk about to be hunted.

Such an uncivilized display on their father’s most important day. Staining those sacred robes along with his reputation. Amaro could hear the whispers of competing houses again.

“Those are Kadmus’s children?”

“He may be the head of the house, but if that’s how his children act he might be the shortest lived head.”

“Such a shame to have sullied those robes. An ill omen indeed.”

“Can we expect him to keep a reign on anything if his own children are allowed to act in such a barbaric manner?”

“How embarrassing, the eldest of his children allowing himself to be flung like that by one younger than him.”

“Certainly powerful magic, but no grace or poise to speak of in its casting, The Xirxus bloodline is doomed if this is what they’ve come to.”

If Amaro could hear them, he knew without a doubt that his father, Kadmus, could hear all of them as well. Amaro looked with horror as his father, a towering Xiozian with short well groomed hair of pure ivory and eyes of deep vengeful purple, made a B-line for Sancta.

Amaro rushed forward, leaving a trail of lightning in his wake, interposing himself between his father and his sister, “Father, please! She didn’t mean to-”

“Out of my way boy. Would you embarrass me further on this day?”

“No, it’s my fault, please, she’s too young to know how to control her magic-”

“She is a Xirxus, Amaro, and I will be teaching your sister the importance of restraint. Such barbaric lack of control cannot go unpunished. Do you even realize what the two of you have done?”

“Father! Please!”

Kadmus grabbed Amaro by his collar and yanked him close until their noses could touch. Amaro winced, feeling such an oppressive aura of hatred bearing down on him. Amaro’s hair was lifting from the electrically charged air that his father was emitting with his magic, “Do you believe yourself above your father Amaro? You seek to humiliate me further than your sister already has? Do you seek to challenge me?” Kadmus hissed in his face.

Amaro’s gaze hardened, an unnatural calm overtaking his heart like it always did when he was threatened, “You are the head of the house now father, will you be showing the same lack of control towards your children as we have to your coronation? Do you think laying your hands on Sancta publicly will make you look any better? Why not show how merciful you are instead?"

Amaro felt a pulse- a strange thump of energy hit his body. Like someone had just grabbed at his heart and was now squeezing it. That unnatural calm left his body, leaving only fear and unyielding panic in its place.

“You wish me to show mercy?” Kadmus said, his tone having leveled out to such a cold and steely patience that it was as if he’d stolen it from Amaro’s beating heart. He dropped Amaro to the floor, unsheathing his sword, “So you do seek to challenge me? Then that means you are prepared for the consequences of your insolence.”