The sound of stone above us grinding away shook us awake from the group hug we had all implicitly accepted for some sense of comfort in this cold desolate underground chamber we could never call home.

  Keiran let go of the barrier he was holding. It was time for us to see what lay outside.

  Daylight came in streaks and then as a flood.

  I shut my eyes. It was too bright.

  There were no sounds of war to greet us. We were met with silence and the sound of wind. With my eyes closed I could almost hear the sounds of crying. Or maybe it was the sound of my own guilt.

  I opened my eyes once more—slowly this time—and a face I didn’t was looking down at us from the opening. Another face popped beside him. An elderly gentleman dressed in fine regalia. The exact same coloring and structure as Keiran but also a forehead lined with wrinkles.

  The King looked down at us sitting in our hole in the ground. Nobody said anything. He must speak first, after all.

  "Keiran," he begin.

  "Father." replied Keiran sounding clipped yet timid. I almost took a double take to make sure it was really him.

  The King closed his eyes for about one second. When he spoke next his voice carried the same authoritative tone I had come to associated with Keiran: "Get them out now. Quickly and carefully."

  Father put me on his broad shoulders I was beginning to lean on and we climbed out of the hole.

  I didn’t look around at the battlefield. Already knowing what it was I would see. I looked up and ahead.

  The sky was grey—not the vibrant endless purple skies and cotton candy clouds I saw from the farm—I had done this.

  This life had only just begin and I had perhaps made a bigger mess than I did in any of my previous lives. Not that I remembered any other than the boring one I lived on Earth. I wondered if I would be divinely punished for my sins.

  Maybe I would instead be rewarded for ending the war? Surely the toll would only be higher and surely the war would have taken just as many lives maybe in a longer time frame. I just made sure it ended quickly with perhaps less loss.

  The King's name was Rex—yes, his name literally translated to King. Nominative determinism was ensuring the Monarchy continued on. He looked at me plainly but I could see the calculations running through his mind. The same ones running through mine.

  "You are very young,” he said.

  “I am, your majesty” I replied. Hoping this was the correct etiquette.

  He exchanged a look with Aldric and something passed between them that I couldn’t understand.

  “You will need to provide a full account.” he said. “To the mage tower master as well.” he added after a beat.

  "I am ready,” to get this over with.

  He nodded having made his mind.

  We convened at mage tower. Not in the room I was usually drained in but a room with a round table. Maybe the commander centre. I had clearly moved up to be invited here. It was the least austere part of the tower. Decorated with walls that looked like diamonds and insulated the room. I could tell there was some sort of magic running through them although I couldn’t identify exactly what it was.

  Master was sitting there when we arrived. Abandoning his usual surliness he actually looked excited and almost gleeful. He participated eagerly as I told my story adding details and technicality to my explanation based on intuition and a shit ton of power.

  If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  I told them about the mage countering me. How someone on their side had figured out what I was doing and how to counter it in real time and not only that but also redirect my magic to reinforce the golem.

  "Valerin," said Rex his voice chilling and full of malice for this person.

  "I found a seam from earlier that was too small for him to bother patching and then I just overpowered it.” I finished. “No one else could do it.” I added to make sure he understood exactly how valuable I was.

  Master clenched his jaw audibly. A crunching sound echoed through the room.

  “We can replicate your method for dismantling the golem at scale now that I understand it,” he said facing the King.

  I suppose we both had a right to self-promotion. I didn’t bother arguing with him. If I could gain independence without setting foot in a battlefield ever again. Well, thank you very much.

  I told them about the dwarf that attacked me with a hammer then. How Keiran and Agnes were both too injured to put up a fight much longer. I mentioned my father then—how he had somehow found me despite never having seen me before and gotten us the chance to execute our final stand.

  "You put yourself in danger to protect her not even knowing she’s your child,” said Rex the King.

  “It’s my honor as a Knight to protect a child,” my father replied and I could tell there were no lies.

  Without much preamble, Rex simply awarded father a barony. He didn’t ask if anyone wanted it. It was not an honor you could refuse.

  "The ceremony will be in a month," he said to Aldric. “Spend some time healing at home first." He looked at me. “Both of you."

  With my father a baron, I would be nobility. My toddler tantrum had only tied my family closer to the royalty and this kingdom. I imagined Rex as a snake in my mind looping and crawling over my body.

  "Thank you," I replied. At least I got a month off.

  "After the ceremony," he said, "you'll stay at Mage tower in the capital to continue your training.”

  Thank you so much for deciding all my plans, my King. The silver lining was Master looked like he chewed on a lemon.

  “Of course," I said.

  Mumma greeted us at the gate before standing there before it even came in our view. I don’t know how she could tell we were coming. She had a special connection to the land we lived on always knowing things she shouldn’t.

  She picked me up first. Kissed my cheeks and started spinning. I saw flowers blooming as she spun me around.

  Then she looked at father. Their eyes were full of yearn and longing. Neither of them noticed me in that moment. Their love which was held together by a red string despite time and space now brought them to each other.

  I walked deeper in to the farm to the clearing we played in. Rowan and Finn were fighting each other with real swords. Their movements were less refined than the Knights I saw on the battlefield but not by much. Both of them had progressed so much over the last couple months.

  Finn noticed me first and dropped his weapon dumbly in shock.

  “Mira. You’re safe. You’re back.” said my eldest brother less dumbly but just as shocked. I couldn’t smile.

  They have no idea what I’ve been upto.

  Finn regained his balance and essentially slid to me. His steps far too fast.

  “I’m sorry” he whispered apologising for an indiscretion I could hardly remember now.

  “I’m sorry.” I replied hugging him tightly. I wasn’t about apologising to him.

  Our parents—and what a treat it is to say that—joined us soon after.

  Finn looked on in confusion not recognizing.

  Rowan only said, “Papa.”

  So, that’s what I would have called him if our first meeting didn’t happen when I was about to be killed.

  The family was together now. The peace of life on the farm settled into my soul. I wanted to immerse myself in its routine and never go back to that tower. I had to teach myself magic from a book anyway.

  I spent the next couple days refamiliarizing myself to the farm smell I missed so much. I played around in the dirt. I jumped in the crystal blue pond with the ducks. I was brat to the chickens who should have obviously missed me and I cuddled with the cows in commiseration.

  A dozen or so townspeople came—no, marched to us—on the third day.

  I didn’t recognize any of them but it was clear mumma and papa did.

  "My boy's not back home," one of them looking at papa and me accusatorially.

  My mouth remained shut.

  “We heard. People have announced you ended the war." His voice was calm yet utterly broken. “They’re calling you a hero.”

  There were no words to make this alright.

  "My boy's not coming home," he fell to his knees.

  I thought I would have freedom if I did this. I even thought it would be good to prove my power so no one tried to mess with me. It’s not like I set out to do the nuclear option for glory. This was for my survival too.

  None of those justifications could withstand the scrutiny of a parent who lost their child.

  My mind went back to the sound we heard just before we dropped underground. No one told me what the impact had been during the briefing. How many survived?

  Mumma picked me up then. I was four year old and she thought they were being mean to me.

  She carried me inside while papa stayed out there offering I don’t know what.