Mattiew’s shock overwhelmed any other thoughts he would have conceived.

It had to be a lie. It had to be.

But why? Why say something so absurd?

“Tiamat is dead,” were the first words that came to Mattiew’s lips.

“None of the Gods are dead. We were banished, locked away in the veil between worlds. And weakened severely.” The Empress said.

“But you look exactly like a human…”

“I am not much more than that.” The Empress said. “I used to be what the stories say. All powerful. Immortal. But in trying to redeem myself, I lost that power when Semiramis the Sunkiller stole it to sacrifice my essence.”

“Sacrifice your essence?” Mattiew asked.

“To the Scaled One. The master of this world and all others. Or so He would like you to believe. He despises humans and asserts Himself as a god among gods. I was His creation.” the Empress said. “Semiramis is His Disciple, hence her immense power. But in order to become one, you must offer the essence of a god.”

Mattiew stared at the Empress. How was he supposed to believe all that? That the woman before him was a god?

“My name is Tiamat. Whether or not you wish to believe me, that is the truth.” Tiamat said. “And I, Queen of the Gods, enemy of humanity, wistfully believed that letting my guilt for the past guide me would redeem my wrongdoings. Instead, I lost everything. But in doing so, I realized that in order to change fate, we must cherish what we have in the present. We can only ever use what is in front of us to forge a better path for ourselves.”

Tiamat reached into the folds of her linens and produced a circlet. The circlet was made of a material that seemed to be silver, but shined far more brilliantly, even in the dim torchlight.

Cords wove together, forming the circlet in a complex braid that gave the appearance of scales, connecting with the sculpture of an onyx-eyed serpent eating its own tail.

Holding it in his gaze, Mattiew felt an infinitum in every beat of his heart, where each moment of time was condensed enough to fold in on itself yet elongated every tenth of a second to the lifetime of the sun.

“You know what this is.” Tiamat said. “Because you are not a sorcerer acclimated to its power, you feel the inherent calling of it. Of the Ouroboros. My Ouroboros. This circlet was forged from platinum, harvested from the ligaments and bones of my body, when the Ancient Kings slew me and banished my soul. The onyx eyes used to be my pupils, from which the Zagras river and the Central Sea sprung. It is a monument among monuments to my weakness and my folly in believing that I could push the human spirit to despair. That it was right to do so.”

“Wh-why do you have this?” Mattiew asked. “Shouldn’t you secure it better? Shouldn’t it-”

“I do not get to dictate what should or shouldn’t happen to this. Nor does anyone else who has followed in my mistake. So I’m setting it down here.” Tiamat placed the Ouroboros on the wooden table between them. “You are the only person in this room who gets to decide. You are the king’s candidate. You can abandon your notion of making everything right and attempt to save yourself from despair. Unlike Semiramis.”

“I...are you giving this to me?”

“I merely state that you have an opportunity before you. An opportunity to try doing good again. An opportunity to make a choice. It is up to you if that opportunity is worth it.”

Mattiew stared at the Ouroboros, once again paralyzed with indecision. He once again had an impossible choice before him.

Did he deserve the crown? Was he in the right to decide that?

All these questions. This cyclone in his head. This worry about the rippling consequences in his chest. That was what got him into this mess.

He refused to decide. He refused to even decide to abandon his false dichotomy. Mattiew didn’t want to choose between his wife and his cause. And he didn’t have to. But he didn’t want to accept the alternative.

Making a decision was uncomfortable and inconvenient. All the options resulted in terrible consequences, so Mattiew decided to just not choose at all. And as a result, something worse had happened.

But the Ouroboros was right here. Either he stole the crown and gave it to the people. Or he stole the crown from the people and let it fall back into the hands of the powerful.

“I’ve decided.” Mattiew said, grabbing the Ouroboros off the table. A bolt of lightning shot through every nerve as he touched it. “I’m declaring a war against the Callione House.”

***

Mount Zagras was commonly known as the place where the gods’ thrones once stood. The site where the Ancient Kings brought the Wild Age to a decisive end and codified the Eightfold Pact.

And despite how hard-fought the peace humanity enjoyed now was, Mattiew would abandon it.

What had peace gotten them?

Complacency? Stagnation? It was only in numbers that those without power could oppose those with it.

Mattiew did not intend to eliminate the empires from atop this mountain. But he hoped to change something.

The City of Veyshtar was dead compared to the start of the Bellirex. As the tournament eliminated contestants, their followers and fans left the city to return to their daily lives.

Something about the city’s emptiness made him feel better about his decision. He didn’t want it to be a show.

How had it all come to this? He was only a boy when he joined the Sea Scourgers on a fluke. Back then, they were little more than a roving pirate band with high ideals.

Now, they were an army. An army who, despite all that had happened, Mattiew had to take a chance on.

Mattiew could feel Dreya’s stinging glare from behind him before he even heard her footsteps.

“I’m glad you came alone.” Dreya muttered. “But I don’t know who else would come to back you up.”

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“I promised I would. I’m surprised you actually came.” Mattiew turned to face her. The malice in her eyes alone could kill.

“You have some nerve, Nikoliades. Wanting to meet with me, face to face.” Dreya said. “Or maybe you’re just that much of a moron. You promised? Don’t give me that horseshit. All you’ve done is lie to us. And now I can only assume you want to give your life as an apology.”

“If I’m so terrible, why did you even show? Why not sic ten or twenty Scourgers on me?”

“Because I’m sick of you.” Dreya spat. “I don’t give a damn if you die. I won’t give you the satisfaction of my rage. But before I kick you outta my life forever, I wanna make sure you know what you did. You’ve lied to everyone. Sedis, Ladona, Aram, Leila, Jackal. Do they mean anything to you?” Dreya’s face contorted in suppressed agony. “What about Dak, huh? Was his life worth your little heiress’s? I still can’t believe it. I still can’t believe you’d spit on and tarnish the dream you and him shared! That we all shared! Was it worth throwing that away?”

Mattiew sighed, unable to look her in the eye. “...No.”

She furrowed her brow in disgust. “You’re worse than a Nightdweller.”

Mattiew got down on his knees in the dirt covering the ruins of Zagras. “And for that...I am sorry. I have no pride left, Dreya. I can’t choose between the Scourgers and Adriana. So please, help me defeat Andar Callione. I beg of you.”

It didn’t catch Mattiew entirely by surprise when Dreya kicked him in the jaw, throwing him into the dirt.

“After all this, you think an ‘I’m sorry’ cuts it? You think that’s even remotely enough for any of us to forgive you? That it would be enough for us to believe in another one of your crazy schemes?” Dreya roared as she kicked him again. He took his blows, refusing to fight her.

Mattiew coughed as he caught his breath. “Of course not. But what else do I have? You and the Scourgers. You’re the only ones I can rely on…”

Dreya let loose a terrible cry of frustration as she hit him. “Do you seriously think everyone’s going to forgive you? The people who followed you? The people who died for you? You think if you can just pull off a heroic stunt, it’ll all be okay?”

She kicked Mattiew in the ribs over and over again. But he refused to defend himself. It wouldn’t do him any good.

“Even Dakkar?” Dreya’s kicks slowed as she sniffled. “The only way I would ever forgive you is if you brought Dakkar back to life! Right now! Let’s see what good all your selfishness will do then! Let’s see it, ‘Champion of the people’!”

“I’m no champion…Everyone has just misplaced their trust in a hero that wasn’t there.”

“So it’s our fault now?” She punctuated her question with a kick to the head.

“N-no…I’m just not the leader you thought I was. All I want...All I’ve ever really wanted was to live out my days. I never wanted fame or to make an impact. I just wanted to grow my vineyard and love my wife.”

Dreya grabbed Mattiew by the collar and dragged him to his feet. “You’re a shit-spewing coward! If you’re going to lie, at least stick to it until the end!”

“I can’t go back, Dreya.” He coughed. “What’s done is done…And letting that define me won’t bring anyone back.”

She let go of him, allowing him to collapse to the ground, beaten and bloodied.

“All I can do is move forward.” Mattiew pleaded. “So please, help me make something better than this. I can’t fix this without you.”

Dreya glared at him. But her expression gave way. She looked away, squeezing her eyes shut. There really wasn’t anything he could do to take back his mistakes.

“Then...turn your lies into truths.” She said, “You lied when you said you wanted to overturn the system. When you said you wanted to make a place for us outcasts. Regardless of your intentions, you were lying. So do that. Bear the burden of wearing that crown. Create a nation. If you don’t win, do everything you can to make the world a better place.”

“I could start...by killing Andar Callione.” Mattiew said, staggered up to his knees.

Dreya hesitated. “Do you think you can do it? For real?”

Mattiew pulled the Ouroboros out from his tunic. Dreya’s eyes widened.

“…If you can kill him...I’ll convince the Scourgers to help.”

“You...you will?” Mattiew asked.

“I’ll find a way.” Dreya muttered.

“Thank y-”

“Thank me by creating our kingdom.” Dreya cut him off. “Your words carry little weight right now.”

***

Kalai was pretty upset that she was among the last to hear that Mattiew had decided to fight against Andar.

At the very least, she was still happy to hear it.

She grinned down upon the scores of Sea Scourgers rigging their ships and packing up to sail.

“What in Irkalla are they doing?”

Kalai glanced to her right and found Khemti Sett, nose scrunched, staring down at the Scourgers.

“Mattiew’s finally decided to go challenge Andar Callione.” Kalai said.

Khemti frowned. “What?”

“Oh, uh...you don’t know, do you? Right. Mattiew’s wife is under a curse of her parents’ own making and Mattiew was supposed to give them the crown to release the curse.” Kalai explained. “Instead, he’s going to go into battle against Andar so the crown doesn’t fall into his hands.”

“Great. This is going to impede my army’s departure.” Khemti muttered. “Northward wind for two days and now this?”

Kalai looked Khemti up and down. He was a fit warrior. And from what she’d seen, a man of powerful spirit. Despite some shortcomings as a leader.

“You should join us.” Kalai said.

“What?” Khemti asked. “I will not get involved in a personal duel Nikoliades has.”

“Duel?” Kalai chuckled. “You misunderstand. They’re going to war. We’re storming Rosalia’s beaches and taking the city by force.”

“I’m sorry, war?” Khemti exclaimed. “War? Are you an idiot? Do you know how much bloodshed that’ll cause? Humanity hasn’t gone to war in thousands of years!”

“And look where it’s gotten us.” Kalai said. “Andar Callione on his own has spilled more blood than most wars I’ve fought in. I don’t mean to promote bloodshed, but sometimes it’s a necessary evil. There can’t be order without chaos.”

Khemti shook his head. “You’re all insane. Asking me to tag along like this campaign is some kind of adventure? How could I just throw my people into danger like that?”

Kalai huffed. “You and Mattiew share some very telling similarities in your individual situations. People who trust in you to make a better world for them follow each of you. But Mattiew has understood how wrong that kind of trust is.”

“How is desiring a better world wrong?” Khemti asked.

“Not the desire for a better world. But the reliance on someone to do the job for you.” Kalai growled. “That’s why I hate this world without war. Everyone is complacent about letting a prince or a figurehead do all the heavy lifting for them. How is an individual expected to fight on behalf of thousands? The weak just use the Bellirex as an excuse to get out of the hard work that goes into changing the world. Just as the nobility use it to heighten their power.”

“You say you don’t mean to promote bloodshed, but from what I’ve seen, you’re a warmonger.”

“And you’re a sad little man who believes that, on ideals alone, he can stand against the infinite storm of fate.” Kalai said. “A king is not someone who martyrs himself for his people. Who excuses the sins of his companions. You, who want to carve a place out for the weak, allow the weak to grow complacent and lazy.”

“Your empire was a fragile beast. A king’s duty is to care for his people, not conquer. A king is the stand-in and representation of his people.” Khemti argued.

“A king is but a man.” Kalai said. “What you say is only half true. For if a king cannot rely on his subjects, why must he stand for them? Subjects so self-defeating that they are incapable of achieving their goals without a figurehead are not worthy of respect. When my empire shattered, my descendants used what I taught them to carve out and establish prosperous kingdoms that stood for hundreds of years. It is our responsibility to make the people see their potential in us.”

As Kalai paused, Khemti’s determination to fight against her softened as the muscles in his face relaxed.

“By fighting with Mattiew, we will give your people the chance to truly enact change in tandem with Mattiew’s Scourgers.” Kalai said. “Either that, or you can wait another ten years for the next Bellirex to come around.”

Kalai waited as Khemti soon came to realize just how long he would have to wait to have another chance of freeing his followers. Either he alone would have to earn the rights of thousands or those thousands could follow him into earning it for themselves.

And even though he was a king, Khemti was still a man. It was not wrong of him to be selfish. It was not wrong of him to demand equal conviction and strength from his followers.

“I’ll...I’ll go with you. But if your army falters, I won’t hesitate to call a retreat.” Khemti said.