Yava watched Gavro stumble back from the Temple of Time with a blank face of despair. She could not fathom what he had learned but did not want to ask him when he was so clearly distressed. The towering Mosyv did not seem to notice her presence and sat up on his Shinoon to ride off alone. Yava exchanged a worried look with her warriors, then followed Gavro.

  As they left the lake behind them, his expression straightened into one of grim resolve. Even as his thoughts had spiraled toward the inevitable conclusion, one part of him had denied what he needed to do. But even rational thinking led him to the same result. He did not want to admit it, but there was no other choice.

  "Yava," he called out to the Khevelir warrior for the first time since they met on this journey.

  "Here!" she responded, sensing that what followed would be important.

  "Do you love the tribe?" but to her surprise, Gavro asked this.

  "Yes!" Yava answered without hesitation.

  "How far are you willing to go to protect it?"

  "I would lay down my life."

  "I see," Gavro said and remained quiet afterward. Yava wondered what that was about. What had he learned from the Akhma Merkheleh? Had they not come here to escort a new Takheleh back to the tribe? Why were they leaving empty-handed now?

  The journey back was a rush, just as before. But when they left the lands under Azakhal's protection, the first thing Gavro did was order a hunt. Their supplies had dwindled to the point that they would starve to death before they reached the tribe. It showed that their leader regained his senses and overcame his grief.

  It was still winter, but the mountainous region had more active wildlife than the open steppe. For the first time since the coalition, the warriors were able to enjoy a fulfilling meal with leftovers to spare. Gavro ate like a man determined to live and thrive. He needed to make up for all that he had lost during their journey, but it felt like he only did it out of a sense of duty.

  "Can you tell us what you learned?" Yava asked after the meal when Gavro sat beside the fire and stared up at the darkening sky. He did not answer for the longest time, making her think he ignored her. The other warriors exchanged worried glances, but nobody wanted to start another conversation before Yava gave up herself.

  But the Khevelir continued to watch Gavro, awaiting the time he would be ready to answer. And her devotion was finally rewarded after the sun finally set beyond the mountains and the first stars appeared in the night sky.

  "Our tribe is on the path toward destruction," he began, causing his followers to stare at him in shock. "The Omen Child walks among us. We are all part of her destiny now."

  "Lady Viyal," Yava muttered in realization. She immediately made the connection, as there was no other person in their tribe who could be the promised conqueror under Azakhal.

  "Your elder, Daruna was her name. She saw through her the first time they met." Gavro lowered his gaze and stared into the fire. He sniffed in self-deprecation. Back then, he truly believed the elderly Jagul was senile and babbled nonsense. But even if the truth about her had come out at the time, he would have celebrated her since the tribe seemed to be on the path to success.

  However, now was different. Knowing what he did, he could only see that the tribe's destruction was imminent. The Omen Child was heading down the path of death, and her grand destiny drew everybody into it. Viyal needed to die now so that what remained of the tribe could be saved.

  Yava finally understood the expression of despair on Gavro's face when he returned from the mountain. He had already lost his wife and children. Now, he had to contemplate killing his niece. It was too much to bear for one soul, even if it was a soul that had shone so brilliantly on the battlefield before.

  "I... we will not let you shoulder this burden," she declared, looking across the other seven warriors, who nodded in assent. They understood that this was the only solution now. If Viyal's destiny was to die before her thirteenth day of birth, it could take any number of forms. "The tribe needs you. If you were the one to do it, a rift would form between you and the chief. Let us become the criminals in your place. We would all gladly lay down our lives so that our people can survive."

  Gavro stared at the faces of his eight followers in surprise. She was talking about treason and murdering the child of the tribe's chief, his brother's daughter. But he could not say anything to rebut them. After all, he had long since resolved himself to do the same. He knew his brother would never understand. No father could. If their positions were reversed, he would rather die with his children than let anybody kill them.

  "I alone will do it." She looked across the faces of her men with a meaningful gaze. A Mosyv Viyal might be, but she was only a child. Only one of them needed to make this sacrifice and become a traitor to the tribe, and she would be the one to bear that crime.

  "No," Gavro disagreed. "The rift was formed long ago. I simply was unaware of it until I learned the truth."

  He did not hate his brother. No, he still loved him. That was why he had to do this. Amiro would go down with Viyal, and the tribe would be destroyed all the same. Only the Omen Child needed to die, nobody else.

  "We need to end this the right way," he continued with a look into the flames. A plan began to form in his mind, one he would have been disgusted by before all of this. Now, there was only determination.

  Gavro and his eight followers continued the journey silently, hunting for food along the way and regaining their strength. Such was their determination that they did not speak a word to each other and honed themselves for the upcoming plan.

  Twenty-two days later, in the early afternoon, they found their way back to the Zakhira camp, carrying some game they hunted on the backs of their Shinoona to share with the tribe. The tribe had steadily traveled westward to meet them halfway, so the return journey had been much shorter.

  The camp had shrunk noticeably from when they left, causing them to exchange worried glances. They must have been attacked by raiders again. Amiro rode out with a few warriors to greet them. He looked genuinely glad to see his brother and headed straight for him. "Brother! You are all right!"

  Gavro climbed down his Shinoon and walked the last few steps toward Amiro. He wore a troubled expression, causing his brother's relieved smile to freeze over. Of course, the wounds caused by his loss were still fresh even after nearly two months. It was insensitive of him to express joy under such circumstances.

  "Did you not bring back a Takheleh?" Amiro looked past Gavro and peered up at his followers. They were the same eight he had sent out, wearing somber expressions. "What happened?"

  "Yava, go distribute the food to the tribe," Gavro avoided the question and ordered the Khevelir with a meaningful nod toward the camp. Then he addressed Amiro's entourage, "I would like to speak with my brother alone."

  The guards bowed and headed back to the camp with Yava's men. Gavro gestured for his brother to walk with him and sent his Shinoon off. Amiro did the same and followed Gavro with a worried frown. He could sense that something was not right with his atmosphere and grabbed him by the arm. "Brother, speak to me. What happened on your journey?"

  "I met the Akhma Merkheleh to find answers," he responded without turning around. "I know now why my children died with their prophecies unfulfilled."

  Amiro let go of Gavro's arm and lowered his gaze as sadness spread through his heart. He had pushed aside their memory for a while because the tribe faced many troubles from within and without since then. But Lavaro and Layavi had been his family, too, and not enough time had passed to bury the loss deep enough with new memories to numb the pain.

  They walked silently for a while before Gavro spoke again, "My children were swallowed by a grander prophecy. That of the Omen Child."

  Amiro froze at those words, and Gavro finally turned to face him. There was no more sadness in his gaze, only determination. It was the look of a man who had lost everything but found something new to hold onto. Amiro was unsure what that was, but a terrifying thought overcame him.

  "Brother, look at our people. How many died since I left? How many more must die before you see the truth?"

  "What are you saying?"

  "Viyal is destined to die now, and we are all going down with her," Gavro gave voice to that thought.

  "No, that is not true!" Amiro denied it vehemently. "The Zakhira will rise again, and she will live to conquer the world!"

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Gavro hung his head, sorrow distorting his face. He knew his brother would not be able to see it; after all, he had not lost anybody yet. His wife's illness faded, and his children were all alive. But it was only a matter of time. The Zakhira camp was smaller now than it had been at Viyal's birth. How far would they fall before her destiny was fulfilled?

  "We will see, then. Let Azakhal decide today," he finally said, wearing an anguished expression. Amiro stared at him in confusion. Then his eyes widened, and he turned to look at the camp.

  "What do you mean?" he spun around and demanded to know. When Gavro did not respond, Amiro grabbed his vest and roared at him, "What did you do?!"

  His brother remained silent, causing Amiro to let go of him and run back to the camp. However, he felt a sharp pain in the back of his left thigh and spun around to find his brother retracting his stinger. A Mosyv's venom was not particularly effective against another of their kind. Still, it caused his leg to seize up, and he tumbled to the ground.

  "What are you doing?" He tried to stand back up, but his left leg would not listen to him. "Stop this madness!"

  Gavro ignored him and walked toward the camp, dark determination clouding his face.

  Yava picked up a Gadat sword from the armory and headed for the chief's tent. One of her men found out that Viyal was resting with her mother in their tent. Another reported that Noro and Saro were out hunting with their wives and a group of warriors so they would not get in the way. The Khevelir already felt apprehension about killing a child, but doing it in front of their parent would be unbearable. However, she steeled her heart and gathered her resolve. The tribe's survival relied on it.

  When she reached the tent door, she stretched out her tongue and tasted the air. Her adoptive sister, the Nokkoy, was not there. The Gadat who used to follow her everywhere was absent, too. She did not sense the Shuva friend, either. Viyal was truly alone with her mother inside their tent. An opportunity like this would never come again.

  She opened the tent flap and stuck her head inside. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the twilight. The foreign warrior clad in black steel was nowhere to be seen. On the bed near the fireplace lay the Omen Child with her mother. Yava walked toward them and quietly drew her blade. However, the faint sound it made startled Nayavi awake. She sat up from the bed in confusion and saw the Khevelir towering over her.

  "What are you doing here?!" she screamed when she saw the sword in her hand and shielded Viyal with her body. The young Mosyv woke up from her mother's voice and blinked her sleepiness away.

  "You may punish me however you wish afterward. But I do this for the good of the tribe," Yava said and tried to pull Nayavi out of the way. However, the Mosyv's tail stabbed at her, forcing the Khevelir warrior to dodge back. Even a female Mosyv who had already given birth still possessed this deadly weapon, a toxin that few on the steppe could survive.

  "Guards! Anyone?!" Nayavi cried for help, knowing she could not stand up against a warrior by herself. However, nobody answered her call as the entire camp outside seemed to erupt into an uproar. Yava heard yelling and knew that her men had gone ahead with their part. The whole tribe knew the truth now; nobody would be coming to save the Omen Child.

  She spun around herself and used her tail like a whip. It hit Nayavi in the side and tossed her across the tent into a collection of wooden chests, knocking her out. With this, Viyal was exposed to the naked blade. The young Mosyv stared up at the Khevelir warrior with fearful, blood-red eyes. She would cut this child's life short to save the tribe.

  The tent flap was thrown open, and Yunil charged inside with her halberd. Yava dodged the thrust and swung her sword at the Nokkoy, but she blocked it with the shaft of her Gadat weapon. The steel blade bounced off the surprisingly hard wood rather than cut through it as she had expected. Yunil used the opening and kicked her taller opponent in the stomach, sending her staggering away from Viyal.

  "What are you doing?" the Nokkoy barked, placing herself between Viyal and the assassin.

  "You should have heard it. She is the Omen Child. If she lives, the tribe will be destroyed before long," Yava argued while gauging her distance to Yunil and the target.

  "Nonsense! She is my sister!" Yunil declared and prepared to swing her halberd. However, the tent flap was ripped aside, and several warriors of the tribe appeared in the entrance. They looked at Yava, then at Yunil, before aiming their weapons at the latter. "What are you doing? She is here to kill Viyal!"

  "And so am I. If she dies, my family will be safe," one of the Bavadi declared, wearing a desperate face. The other warriors nodded in grim agreement.

  "You believe in their lies?" Yunil looked between Yava and the warriors. She would already have been hard-pressed to hold off the Khevelir since she was one of the few fighters in the tribe she could not yet defeat in sparring. However, adding several more warriors was an impossible task.

  "They are not lies. They are the words of the Akhma Merkheleh," argued another man as he pushed his way inside the tent and pointed his spear at Viyal.

  With this, she understood the situation. The Akhma Merkheleh had revealed the truth to Gavro. In his grief, he must have come to the conclusion that she had slipped onto the path of demise in her grand prophecy and pulled down the Zakhira with her. But she could not find it in herself to deny that possibility. Perhaps it was her fault, after all.

  "Stand aside!" Rowen's voice roared from the outside, and the warriors at the tent entrance scattered in a panic. The old knight appeared in the bright cutout, his eyes hidden under his crimson cape. His hand was on the hilt of his sword, Nightfall, but he had not drawn it yet.

  Viyal stared at him in fear. Had he come here for the same reason Yava had? He swore to protect the tribe, so ridding it of the cause for its imminent destruction would be in service of that, even if he had to slay the daughter of the chief.

  "What are you all doing, giving in to fear and doubt?!" he boomed, raising his voice in anger for the first time since Viyal met him. "Have you no honor? No sense of duty?"

  "This is my sense of duty," Yava declared with a glare and lunged toward Viyal. Yunil thrust her halberd forward, but she struck it aside with her sword. In the same motion, she stepped in with her whole body and brought the blade down at her target.

  But Rowen slipped between them and cut through the Gadat sword with his own, sending the blade flying up through the tent ceiling. Yava stepped back and looked at her useless weapon in shock. The old knight stood in front of the young Mosyv and Nokkoy and drew an arc with Nightfall. "I will cut down anybody trying to harm the young lady."

  "Even me?" came a familiar voice from outside the tent. Gavro stepped through the entrance with his spear, wearing a sad expression. He looked past Rowen and Yunil, and his eyes met with Viyal's. She was shocked to find no anger, no hatred; there was only anguish and compassion. He truly believed that her death would solve everything, and he was filled with sorrow about what he felt he had to do.

  "Do not make me weigh my oaths against each other, my lord," Rowen declared, his sword arm not wavering in the slightest. "I will stand for honor before duty."

  "Your honor compels you to choose death for the tribe," Gavro rebutted with a frown.

  "That may be what you believe. I shall believe otherwise," said Rowen calmly.

  "How unfortunate, old friend." With these words, Gavro leveled his spear at the old knight. A murmur ran through the crowd outside the tent; they would see the champions of the tribe fight against each other.

  "Brother!" Amiro roared from surprisingly close by. A moment later, he crashed through the gathered warriors and tossed them aside. Gavro spun around in surprise as the chief leaped onto him and pulled him down. The two Mosyv rolled across the ground, biting and scratching at each other like two beasts.

  As if seeing that was a signal, the warriors outside pushed through the tent opening to finish what they came here for. Rowen prepared to face them all, but he and Yunil would not be able to hold them all back. They swung their weapons in wide arcs to deter the assailants, but they spread out in the tent to surround the two defenders and their charge from all sides.

  Suddenly, the tent behind Viyal was cut open, and Tashi leaped inside as a spinning ball of blades. The warriors near him were nicked by the whirlwind of curved swords and staggered back. Yunil reacted immediately by lifting her sister off the bed and carrying her outside through the hole Tashi had made. Three Shinoona were already waiting outside; the monkey boy had thought of everything.

  "Mother is still there!" Viyal cried, pointing inside the tent.

  "They are after you alone! We have to run for it," Yunil said and pulled her toward the mounts. She recognized that her sister would no longer be able to stay in the tribe. But her mother would not be harmed once she was gone.

  "Where to?" she asked in despair. The Zakhira were her family. This tribe was her home. But now that her prophecy had been revealed, nowhere on the steppe would be safe.

  "Head west to the lands under Azakhal's protection," Rowen said as he held back an onslaught of warriors trying to come through the hole after them. Others were already coming around the tent from both sides, so there was no time to lose.

  Yunil helped Viyal onto her Shinoon before sitting up on her own. The tribe's warriors blocked their path with spears, but she swung her halberd in a wide arc that dispersed them. Tashi joined them a moment later and covered their rear. They heard warriors whistling for their mounts. Others shouted for their comrades to bring them bows and arrows. It felt like the entire tribe was out for Viyal's blood now.

  As they rode between the tents, warriors with pikes appeared before them. Yunil's halberd was long, but it would not be able to reach them before they hit her mount. If they lost their Shinoona here, it would spell their doom. Thus, the young Nokkoy climbed on top of her saddle, ready to jump onto the enemies. She would sacrifice herself so that her sister could escape.

  One of the warriors was hit in the shoulder with an arrow, causing him to drop his lance. Another received one to the leg right after, and he lost his balance. It created the perfect opening for the three riders to break through the encirclement unharmed. Viyal looked around and found Soroca, the stern archery instructor of the tribe, between the tents. She lowered her bow and gave a meaningful nod before disappearing from view when they left the camp behind a moment later.

  However, they were not safe yet. Riders poured out of the camp and chased after them with bows and arrows. Steppe warriors were experts at mounted archery, so they would not miss even at full gallop. They aimed their shots at Viyal; only the Omen Child had to die today.

  Yunil fell back and joined Tashi in the rear guard to shield her sister from the arrows. She caught them with her bare hands or deflected them with her weapon like the Samagshin boy did. Seeing this, the Zakhira warriors drove their Shinoona onward faster to attack with their spears directly.

  Viyal was not an expert rider, so she slowed the others down. The warriors circled around Yunil and Tashi from both sides and surrounded them. When one got close enough to thrust his spear at Viyal, his Shinoon was struck in the hindquarters by a large arrow unlike any the Zakhira tribe used. It stumbled and fell, throwing off the rider. Another one right behind him was caught up in it and went down in a tangle of limbs.

  The shriek of a Hyarul caused all the Shinoona to shudder in fear. Viyal looked back and spotted Altuna coming down a hill on her mount, chasing after them while loosing another arrow. It hit another pursuer's Shinoon in the hindquarter, felling it without killing it or the rider. She charged through their ranks and swung a long glaive to disperse them.

  With this, the young gang was reunited. Viyal looked back at the receding Zakhira camp with tears scattering in the wind. Her parents were still there. She did not know if her mother was still alive after being hit by Yava's crushing tail. And her father appeared to be resolved to fight his brother to the death. Would she ever see them again?

  Whatever the case, her life as Viyal of the Zakhira had just ended.

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