“What makes you the one to decide what's right and what's wrong? I am a God, foolish mortal. I am the arbiter of morality. Not you.” - Cin Coperus, before killing Pope Icarus V, in the year 636 A.C.

The table was laden with various extravagant dishes, prepared by some of the best chefs in the kingdom. Yet the food remained untouched, the two

diners busy staring at each other, recalling their last meeting. “Hello father.” I finally spoke. “It’s been awhile.” He nodded. “Indeed it has.” I gritted my

teeth. Was that all he had to say? “Are you not going to ask me how my time at the academy went?” I said, trying and failing to keep the edge out of my

voice. He shook his head. “I already know about your failures at the academy. Why would I want to hear about them from you?” My father spoke in a

cold voice. Disappointment could clearly be seen in his eyes. “In the letter you left me before departing for the academy, you said that you would work

hard to become stronger. Yet, here you are, having returned a year later. Your final grades arrived shortly before you did. In the battle rankings, you

placed 1,998th out of 2,000 students. You failed.” He said coldly. I opened my mouth to retort, but he interrupted me first. “I will say this to bring you out

of your delusions. You will never become strong, Corin. You will never make me proud. You will never become my heir. I stand by what I said at Tyrin’s

funeral. You should have been the one that died. Not him.” With that, my father stood up and left the room, leaving me behind. I too stood up, and left

the table, walking back to the guest room in a daze. Entering the room, I closed the door and began to cry. “FUUUCKKKKK!” A decorative vase flew

across the room and shattered against the wall. “AAAAHHHHHHGGGGG!” A chair was picked up and slammed into the floor. “DAMN ITTTT!” A tapestry

was torn off the wall and ripped to pieces. I kneeled down in the midst of the destroyed room and covered my eyes with my hands, sobbing. Countless

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emotions swirled in a chaotic mess inside me. Anger, frustration, rage, guilt, resentment, fear, grief, rejection, hatred. I had no idea what to do.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!” I screamed hoarsely, tearing my throat to shreds, desperately trying to let out the feelings that

were cutting my very soul to shreds. This whole time, I had been trying to prove that I could be just as good as Tyrin. That I wasn’t the one that should

have died. That my father was wrong. I wanted him to admit he was wrong. I wanted him to apologize. And I wanted him to accept me. To feel proud

because of me. I wanted him to be my father. I wanted to be his son.

The hill was lit by the setting sun, turning the blue waters into a sea of beautiful flames. I stared down at the gravestone beneath me, barely making out

the words engraved upon it.

“Here lies Tyrin Rivum,

Beloved Son and Brother.

May his smile brighten up the next life,

just as it did this one.”

“Hey Tyrin.” I croaked, my voice hoarse from all the screaming, my eyes red from the tears. “I’m back.” Memories of my childhood flashed through my

mind. That time on our seventh birthday when we accidentally set fire to the rug in our bedroom. Our first hunting trip with father. Playing tag and hide

and seek in the forest. Staying up late at night reading by the moonlight seeping in through our bedroom window. And then the last memory. Of him

shuddering in pain on the bed, coughing up blood. Reaching out his hand to me one last time before the light in his eyes vanished forever. My brother.

My friend. My equal. My rival. He had been with me almost my entire life, except for the first two minutes of it. I always held that over his head, that I

was the older twin. And then he was gone. “I’m sorry.” I said, tears streaming down my face. He was gone. And it was my fault. “It should have been

me.”

The sun had long since set, and the moon had long since risen. The cold night breeze made me shiver. Yet I didn’t move. I kept staring down at the

grave beneath me, where my twin lay buried. Sniffing, I looked up at the moon. “I don’t care how long it takes.” I said to the dark world around me. “I

don’t care how hard I have to work. I don’t care how much I have to suffer.” I clenched my fists. “I will become stronger. I will make you regret rejecting

me. I will make you beg for my forgiveness. And I will leave you behind, just as you left me when I needed you most.” Turning around, I began walking

back to the castle. ‘I will become stronger. Stronger than you can possibly imagine. That will be my revenge.’