Arion passed the night sky with a wavering heart. His head's heavy, confused. Recalling the face and sentences of the wife he loved, Arion could only feel guilt in his chest.

However, seeing his son in such clothing anger him again. He was filled with annoyance that can go nowhere, for he's alone in his frustration.

He let go a sigh to the wind as if asking them to take away his troubles, but they couldn't. Arion smiled bitterly, unable to believe he expected a friend now.

"General." An expectation that seemed to be fulfilled by the approaching two soldiers, "We just stopped at your house." Their faces are flat and expressionless, maintaining their firm posture alongside their respect.

Never before being needed this late into the night, "What is wrong?" Arion can't help but ask.

"The ministers and His Majesty the King require your presence in the war room."

"Is this about my son again?"

"We do not know." The two answered quickly, trying to keep their expressions polite, but Arion could read the insult in their eyes.

He wanted to finish them off for their insult towards him, towards his family, his son. But Arion had self-control. He nodded understandingly then changed course from the bar to the palace at the heart of the capital.

His lonely step allows him to hear the peace of their capital among the houses, occasionally stealing glances at them until he accidentally stared at his own.

Arion froze in front of his home, feeling the cold and heavy sin on his shoulder once again as he kissed guilt one more time.

He was sure that his beloved Demeter was sleeping and weeping over their increasingly distant family alongside Arion relationship with his son ....

Arion couldn't think of his son; he couldn't bear to accept the harsh reality that his son was born a man.

"You should have been born a woman ..." He sighed, "Right, Robin?" His eyes turned to look at the past, toward his son that just gave up so early on training session.

It was indeed wrong to expect a lot on his child's first day at the academy. His son was different.

It's a shame that society doesn't like different things, he thought.

Having enough nostalgia and doesn't want to make the ministers wait any longer, Arion continued on his way.

This time, his journey was colored with the son's questions and statements, his wedding day, his happy days that had already passed away.

Like his journey, they ended when he arrived at the palace.

Arion is now not alone and no longer in the dark. Fancy lanterns illuminate every sentinel who nodded, acknowledging his existence until he finally arrived at the war room.

He pushed the tall door to step in, drawing everyone's attention. Arion glanced at them, made sure everybody was there, and then took his place at the round table in the middle of the room.

In here, two things are missing: the woman and the throne. They are all equal in front of death, and it's for that reason that no minority can make a decision for the majority.

"So?" That's why Arion can immediately speak without much care for ethics, "Don't tell me it's about my ...."

"No, no. We are not here to insult your son. " A middle-aged man wrapped in jewelry, the finance minister, stopped Arion. "He already insult himself." While mocking Arion still as the man clenched his fists holding back his anger.

"We are here to discuss a more important matter." The king, an old man with gray hair under his crown, continued, "The Storm is on its way."

The expressions of everyone in the room didn't change much, but the slightest change was enough for Arion to read that they weren't kidding.

There was gravity in the coldness of the poorly lit room. There was despair buried in there, a great fear of disaster that deserves its name.

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Even so, "Is this ..." Arion refused, "... for real?" He didn't want to believe.

What kind of terrible joke is this!? His heart shouted.

However, reading the expressions of all those who nodded was more than enough for Arion to tell that they were earnest.

He thawed into his seat, leaning back, trying to release all of the now increasing weight onto the too comfortable luxurious chair.

Seeking to run away from reality one last time, "How do we know he will come?" Arion throws another question, forcing everyone to shake their heads in disbelief. Yet, considering they reacted the same way the first time they heard the news, they also understand how he felt.

And so, "He just destroyed our neighbor." An old man with a hooked nose and a stick beside him, "And seeing his movements so far ..." The minister of foreign relations, "He will come to us next." Answered.

The minister of foreign relations handed Arion an outlined map, noting closely that the tortuous line drawn in blood-red pointed towards the capital of their tiny nation.

Arion knew this was the end because he knew nothing could kill that man, like how almost nothing could comfort him.

The past, the first time he met the Storm, returned to him, so clear it was as if he had seen it yesterday with his own eyes.

The Storm was enormous, larger than any other man Arion had seen before. His muscles were gruesome and absurd. His body was brown, covered in scars, old and new. But the man's expression was constant; behind his thick messy hair, his dark brown eyes glowed arrogantly alongside his broad smile.

The only reason I survived that day was ... because he got bored. Arion got goosebumps at the memory and the reason he could survive the said encounter.

Realizing his greatest fear is coming, Arion can't help but mumble the question on everyone's mind, "What are we going to do now?" With a trembling note, lacking the dignity that everyone would expect from a great general.

But no one could insult him in the room, for they all felt the same way.

The catastrophe that their small country would face now was not something that could be ignored or taken lightly by those who had heard the rumors of the Storm.

Maybe that was the reason the room was silent on Arion's question. After all, they knew very well that the Storm could conquer an entire country by himself.

They had already seen the devastation that lasted for months after the royal capital of Mezia fell because they kidnapped the daughter of the Storm.

No city has survived, and all survivors will experience hysteria just by hearing the man's nickname mentioned before them.

But again, what could they do other than ... "... fight?" The king suggests with desperation to break the sad silence that had been gnawing on them.

The night's old, but they all woke up with their eyes wide open when they listened to the king's proposal.

Every one of them wanted to argue; each wanted to say how pointless it was to do so and how many lives would be lost just because of such a stupid proposal.

However, they didn't say that.

They didn't say that because they know giving up isn't an option either. The Storm will never accept a white flag; they know that very well.

In the end, they only had two choices, either to let the Storm rage inside the walls of the capital and destroy everything or send the majority of their army to face the Storm.

Faced with choices like that, everyone in the room, including Arion, who will lead the capital's military to their death, can only choose the second option.

Seeing how they agreed with each other, they all started planning everything from what they would say to the people to their next plan to quickly build up the military after the dust settled.

In the said discussion, included was the topic of another man to replace Arion after his death.

And because he had accepted such fate, after everyone approved their plan, Arion ran back to the house where his wife and child were waiting for him.

He was running faster than ever, faster than any run he had done in his life.

Arion ignored everyone who greeted him and their strange, ignorant stares. They don't understand him or his son, nor would they want to.

The sun was getting higher faster, making it felt like a long journey home, but he finally arrived.

"Robin!" He broke down the door violently, waking everyone inside the house.

He ran inside, "Demeter!" Shouting out the name of his wife that he found lying on their bedroom bed.

He wanted to look into her confused eyes longer, remembering the colors and the little details there. Still, there were more important things that Arion had to do.

He unloaded the large chest where he kept all his old equipment in great haste. "Arion, are you crazy!?" Forcing his wife to ask a great question.

Because Arion is indeed crazy. He had gone mad because he wouldn't have much time to save the single most valuable treasure in their family.

When he found it, "The Storm is coming." Arion answered his wife's question before running to his son's room.

There, Arion found his son in front of a mirror with a knife in hand pointed at his neck.

Arion swallowed his desire to ask what his son was trying to do, for no one knows when the Storm will come, so he has to do this now.

Arion dropped his old armor on the floor. Then, "Put it on." He gave out an order.

Confused, "Wh ... what ...?" His son asked for an answer that Arion couldn't give.

"Put on this armor, Robin!" Arion's voice grew stern. And with that, his son finally relents and put on the armor with his help.

It has been so long since there's physical contact between the two, and even Arion's wife that's been trailing him can't help but feel a little bit happy about this moment. Yet, Arion couldn't care less about such a thing.

Because now, "Listen to me carefully, Robin." Arion had to be cruel, "Get out of here and never come back." He continued while holding the child's shoulder to force him to look Arion's eyes.

"But ...."

"Go, Robin!" Arion harshly interrupts, "Go away and never come back. Forget us, this is not your home anymore. " Grasping his son's shoulders even harder.