It was as if they were watching through the eyes of someone else. Then the perspective changed, and they saw the figure of a man whose face was obscured, walking along a path as rain pelted the ground, and just ahead of him, another person walked, carrying a basket on their back. The person in front seemed unaware, and a faint murmur could be heard.

  Both individuals continued walking until a cabin on stilts came into view. The man in the back stopped to watch the other climb the wooden ladder leading up to the cabin. He continued to wait even after the person was out of sight, and the sound of the door slamming could be heard. A few moments passed before the man began to climb. His movement was unhurried.

  There is no polite knocking; instead, he kicks the door open, and it slams against the interior wall. He stands at the threshold, and inside, they can see that the person they were following was Domino Adeola. The man was in a poor state—fear-stricken, cowering on the floor, and mouth agape.

  “Domino Adeola. It fills my soul with joy to see you again,” the man said, stepping further into the cabin. Domino lurched forward, grabbing what looked like small disks from the floor, and hurled them at the intruder. It was a pitiful attempt at self-preservation, and when the disks did nothing, Domino shuffled backward. He grabbed items from the shelf behind him and continued his assault. The intruder was unperturbed as he stalked forward, a single hand effortlessly deflecting each object Domino threw.

  “Who are you? What do you want from me?” Domino asked, trembling now because he had no items left with which to defend himself. “If you've come to rob me, I have nothing of value for you to take!”

  “Don’t think you can fool me, old man.” The intruder said, his voice youthful, yet his cadence held maturity. He stopped short of just reaching Domino, turning instead to face the light of the fireplace. It was in that instant that Domino ceased his quivering as visible shock overcame him. The image they watched still did not reveal the face of the man, but it appeared that Domino recognized him. “You value your life, and that is more than enough for me to steal it.”

  “Why? You’ve been hiding… all these years. Tell me, why does Neos want me killed now? Why wait for so long?” Domino asked, pushing himself as far into the corner as he could. “He lost the war, lost his life, and now you come to avenge him. What do you gain?”

  The man remained silent, unmoving as the fire crackled. Domino seemed to think that his inquiry distracted the man and decided to shuffle slowly to the side. If he got around the intruder, then he had a chance of escape. Cian huffed out a breath through his nose. It was apparent the intruder was aware of Domino's movements, and Cian could only wince when Domino leaped up, only to be attacked from the side. He was sent hurling into the opposite wall, the force enough to splinter the wood, broken fragments flying.

  The attack had happened so quickly, and the aftermath saw Domino groaning on the floor. A hissing sound could be heard, and then the image shifted. Cian sat straight in his chair, his eyes widening. Bobbing its head as if pleased with itself, a serpent, scales darker than night and larger than a man, stood above Domino. Its tongue flicked out as it angled its head, and an empty eye socket peered at its prey. Memories began to flood Cian’s mind of an illusionist with her serpent, who seemed to see him without sight.

  “I think he would have preferred me to toy with you, but I’d rather not waste my time,” the man said, stepping away from the fire. The creature lifted its head backward so the man could stroke it as he stepped past the serpent to kneel before Domino. “You have been the bane of my existence, and even with your death, he won’t be satisfied.” Domino raised his head, tears welling up in his eyes from both fear and pain. It did not help that the man harshly grabbed him by the back of his head, almost ripping out Domino’s hair, and forced him to face his executioner. “You—you possess… his likeness, but he was never this strong. How?”

  “You will never realize how much I hate you, Domino,” the man said instead of replying to the question. He abruptly stood, allowing Domino’s head to fall against the floor. “Make his death agonizing.”

  At once, the serpent obeyed the command, lunging forward, fangs bared as it bit into Domino’s shoulder. It stayed latched, and where once Domino was too injured to move, he suddenly began to convulse, and then his body contorted into the most unnatural of shapes. The serpent refused to let go, and those in witness began to realize the color of Domino’s skin was fading, and he began to age right before their eyes. His body jerked in the opposite direction, legs bending how they should not be, before there was a crunch, and his legs went limp. Not limp as if he gave up fighting, but limp like a sack after being emptied. More cracks and crunches followed, the serpent’s tail whipping from side to side like a happy dog. It finally released Domino once he stopped moving, and what was left behind was a lump of flesh that still breathed.

  “Domino Adeola is no more, and soon the seven tribes will follow.” The man rummaged through his person before withdrawing a pitcher, the same pitcher Patrairch Griff had just used to conjure the image they were watching. He also withdrew what appeared to be a chisel. With both items in hand, he approached Domino’s body, and there were sounds of disgust from the observers as the man grabbed the sagging body, holding it up as he stabbed the chisel into Domino’s neck. He set the pitcher underneath the stream of dark liquid before calling over his serpent. The serpent opened its mouth, and the man used a fang to prick the pad of his thumb. Blood welled up, and he added a few droplets to the pitcher. “The tribal leaders—the ones watching this memory—understand this is my declaration that I will kill every last one of you just as I have with Domino and his clan. May God have mercy on your souls because you will be seeing Him soon enough.” The image faded right after.

  —————

  “What devilish thing did you just show us!” Matrairch Isolde screeched. From beside her, her son had gone pale, and he appeared ready to be sick. The young man was faring no better than the others sitting around the table.

  “That’s a conduit—the pitcher, yes?” Greatwife Alethea questioned, huddling closer to her husband as she eyed the back wall suspiciously. After the image faded, the rancid mud—or as they could all now infer, as blood—from before came back, and Patrairch Griff had settled the pitcher near the wall. As if returning home, the mud gathered itself together and dripped into the pitcher. “Only sin could create such an abomination.”

  “What about the serpent? There is no animal alive that has such a capacity to… devour the innards of another living creature, while leaving the skin intact,” Grandhusband Baldric said, his voice carrying the disbelief displayed on his face. “That is no creature of God.”

  “The serpent itself is the conduit,” Barnabas explained. “It is something I, my twin brother, and my father have discussed. Conduits elude much of our understanding, but what we have been able to garner is that they give the power to the cultivator using them. A manifestation of sin that takes the shape of whatever tool a sinful cultivator wishes to use, and Domino’s murderer, either chose it, or it was decided he would have a serpent.”

  “Can there be more than one of the same conduit?”

  Barnabas looked over at Cian, his head tilting at the sight of his former student appearing so distraught. “The Five Founders, and the one in the image, each had different conduits, but that is not to say it is impossible.”

  “Then Fallen Petal is in danger.”

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  The squabble from the others died the moment Cian uttered his proclamation, and his uncle was perturbed, wondering why his child would say such a thing. “Cian, what do you know that we don’t?”

  “The illusionist who came to perform at the theater! She had a snake with her, similar to the man’s serpent!”

  “Madam Calypso… she showed us a puppet,” Bomin said, but his words trailed off as his eyes darted around in thought. Bomin remembered when the older woman had come before him with Warden and Kumo in attendance. She had presented herself as a meek lady with skill in tricks and illusions. Madam Calypso had impressed him with a brief showing of her act, and during it, she did not present a living creature but a puppet made of wood, painted to look like a slithering snake.

  “She used no puppets in her show. It was a real snake without eyes that she had exploded into pieces, but then soon reformed with a twist of her hand. I thought it was all an act.”

  “Are you sure it’s not a coincidence?” Keegan asked. He has never been one to take the safety of his family lightly. Still, it seemed too unimaginable that after over a thousand years, not one, but two sinful cultivators would appear. What is more, was to have one of them infiltrate their home.

  “How many people do you know who own black, eyeless snakes?” Cian retorted with more bite than necessary, anxiety beginning to well up in his chest.

  “Children, quiet,” Bomin commanded sharply. The two boys, silenced, stared at their father expectantly. “If what my son says is true, then we must return home quickly. That being said, I ask my fellow tribal leaders to gather your soldiers. It was purposeful that the woman came when my sons and I were leaving the city. I trust my wife and Warden to handle anything that will arise, but that doesn't mean I don't expect a fight. Whether one has already begun or will, we all must take this seriously because if two new cultivators have risen, dark ages are upon us.”

  —————

  Preparations for their departure began right away, but Cian did not want to leave before bidding farewell to Nathaniel. He had gone off on his own to Amiel Amadeus, an orphanage whose splendor would not have you believe it was one. From the outside, it could be mistaken for a grand academy or the estate of a wealthy clan—the entire property sprawls across several acres, enclosed by tall wrought-iron gates. Beyond them, the main path stretches inward beneath an archway of cypress and marble columns, leading to the heart of the establishment. Broad courtyards, symmetrical buildings, and paths of pale stone that shone faintly in the sun, all arranged with precision.

  Through the double doors made of pink-stained birch wood, Cian was welcomed into a warm atmosphere of children of varying ages going about their day, workers tending to their charges' needs, and, wafting in the air, the scent of baked goods, likely from the kitchen. It is late evening, a day after he became the heir to the patriarchy, and tomorrow morning, they will leave the city of Semper Dante Luce. Cian would have liked to explore more of the city, but the orphanage will be the only sight he is allowed to see. He cannot say he is not disappointed, but the feeling ebbs when he heads to the children’s grounds behind the building, after speaking with a worker, drawing the worker's attention, and asking about Nathaniel.

  “Oh, little Nathaniel! The newest lamb to our flock,” the worker, a homely woman, slender in build, youthful and smiling, said. “He is such a kindly child and has made friends rather easily. He is playing with the other children before supper, while there is still light out. Walk down this hall, then at the first corner turn left, and continue straight.” Cian left the woman with a bow of gratitude, and she continued to smile at him as he went.

  The children’s grounds were a broad expanse of green enclosed by tall hedges. There are fruit trees there, climbing ropes, and a shallow channel of running water that traces the yard’s edge, feeding into a small pond where ducks drift lazily. The walls surrounding the place are high enough to ensure safety, yet low enough that the sky feels close and unconfined. At the center of the grounds, a grand play structure—a framework of stone, timber, and bronze–stood upon a low platform of smooth-cut stone. Pillars support archways and beams that crisscross at varying heights, forming a kind of climbing pavilion where the young can test their courage and balance. At the highest level, a shaded canopy of carved wood offered a small lookout. Below, steps curved down to a shallow pit lined with fine sand, and it is there Cian spots a familiar face.

  “Nathaniel!” Cian called out, waving his hand when the younger boy turned his head. Nathaniel blinked before a toothy smile graced his face as he recognized Cian. The young boy left the friends he was building a sand castle with to run over merrily to the older boy who had helped him. Cian braced himself as Nathaniel jumped into his arms, laughing as he hugged Cian tightly. “It pleases me to see you in good health. You’re a strong tike, aren’t you? The workers have been taking proper care of you.”

  Nathaniel pulled away from Cian, nodding in agreement at his words. “They feed me good here! They take care of me! Daughter Serephina is kind! They told me you are Son Cian, which means you’re like the leaders, but you’re nice! I thanked her, and now I thank you for helping me!”

  Indeed, the color had returned to Nathaniel’s complexion, and now it was a dust darker. His hair had been washed, combed, detangled, and tied in a loose braid. He was still a tad thin, but a few more weeks of hearty food would see him like a proper plump child, and his fresh tunics and trousers would not hang so loosely around him. “I appreciate your kind words. It was my pleasure to help you, and I’m glad I can speak with you before I leave for home.”

  “You just came. You don’t want to play with me?” Nathaniel asked, a slight frown replacing his smile from before. Cian ruffled the top of his head. “I can play… for a little while at least.” As soon as Nathaniel was given confirmation, the little one wasted no time in pulling Cian along to the sand pit.

  Cian spent the rest of the time with Nathaniel and the rest of the children building different sand sculptures before leading all the children on the grounds to play hide-and-seek. It was a fun evening that would have lasted longer had a loud bell not rung, followed by the call of a worker telling the children that supper was ready. “You will come back tomorrow?” Nathaniel asked as he walked with Cian inside the building. “I told you I’ll be returning home. I don’t live in the city, or on this continent for that matter,” Cian replied. His words caused Nathaniel to become downcast, but he knew what would shift the boy’s mood. “I have a gift for you.”

  Nathaniel immediately perked up. “Gift? Is it my special day? Mama said I can get a gift on my special day.”

  It took Cian a moment to infer that Nathaniel was talking about his birthday. “You don’t always have to receive gifts just on your birthday. Sometimes people like to give them simply because it makes them happy to see you happy. This occasion is no different, although I’m not sure if you will like what I got you.” Cian pulled from his sleeves a leather bracelet with a small buckle to latch one end to the other. He took Nathaniel’s wrist and placed the bracelet around it. The buckle is adjustable, so as Nathaniel grows, it has extra holes for him to tighten it. But for now, Cian has to use the last hole to keep it from falling off. Once Cian was done, Nathaniel lifted his hand to examine the gift; his eyes caught the words engraved in silver on the band, his face scrunching as he could not read. “What do the letters say?”

  “But the Lord is faithful, Who shall establish you, and keep you from evil—essentially it’s a prayer for the Lord to protect you. Daughter Serephina has dealt with the evil men who were after you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t worry for your safety.”

  Nathaniel gently petted the bracelet. “Mama said we had a guardian and we would be alright. I like your gift, Son Cian. It’s pretty and mine. I won’t lose it, and no one else can have it.”

  Cian once again ruffled Nathaniel’s head. “I’m glad you like it.”

  —————

  Cian watched from the rear of the carriage as the city of Semper Dante Luce disappeared into the distance. Their departure had been rather hasty; the day prior had been filled with preparation for their trip home, and goodbyes were brief. His uncle had sent a Messenger Crow ahead of them immediately after their tribal meeting had concluded. They still have not received a response, but a bird can only travel so fast. It left them in a state of apprehension, wondering how they would find Fallen Petal. The worst scene would be seeing it war-torn, unable to access it because enemy soldiers are blocking the path in. Cian has read many books concerning war, and their history lessons were filled with them. He is unsure how prepared he is to face such a reality and prays he has the strength to do what is needed.

  “Cian,” his uncle called. The boy turned away from the horizon behind him to see his uncle beckoning him over. He let go of the drapes, allowing them to cover the window he had been looking through before scooting over to sit closer to his uncle and Keegan, who was opposite him. His uncle looked at his sons with the look of a caring parent, but Cian also noted the resignation. “I know The Cornucopia has taught some of the historical events concerning the Ethospar War, so you have a fine idea what happened during those years. I also know your teachings kept blank the pivotal point that started the war to begin with. Domino Adeola was only part of the reason, and the other was the decisions your grandfather made in collaboration with the tribe of Halo and Noctura. Seeing as the current events are connected to the past, it is only right that I inform you of everything that has been kept hidden. You need an understanding as to why any one of the clan of Neos can maintain their malice even after so many years… your grandfather made a mistake and we are still paying for it.”