TALES FROM TORIN (PART TWO): A SONG OF LIFE AND DEATH

(Notice: Tales From Torin takes place before Torin Youth.)

The morning has already gotten off to a rough start for Atreus. He sits in his class at the Campus Taiyo military academy, trying to understand what caused Rhea to erupt at him before storming out of the room.

Most of the students are present now, and so is the instructor, but only a few witnessed what took place earlier.

The daughter of the Taiyo family has yet to return to class, which is even more troubling considering her perfect attendance record.

Bia is also absent, but her location is known—she will be busy for the rest of the school day helping to repair the door she broke down.

Leon sits near the windows on the left side of the room, behind Rhea's empty seat. He, too, is searching his mind for an explanation for his cousin's uncharacteristic outburst.

Atreus, as the object of Rhea's scorn, is still in shock. His eyes remain fixed on the instructor as he speaks to the class; however, he isn't hearing a word Titus is saying.

Dressed in his legionnaire attire, Instructor Titus uses the miniature legionnaire figures arrayed on the table in the center of the room, along with a human-sized straw dummy, to demonstrate combat tactics against a giant predator.

Atreus wracks his brain, able to think of only one possibility—his confession of love had deeply affected her in a negative way.

"Of course she's upset. I'm the devil's son, after all. Who wouldn't be offended?"

Unaware that he is thinking aloud, Atreus' words reach the ears of Instructor Titus.

Titus pauses while several students turn their gazes toward the boy sitting somewhat isolated among the rows of wooden seats.

Atreus sinks into his chair in embarrassment.

"Devil's son or not, I believe you deserve a chance to prove yourself," the instructor says. "It's why I insisted that you be allowed to attend this academy."

"Thank you, sir," the boy replies with deep gratitude.

"You can thank me by paying attention and not interrupting the class anymore," Titus answers.

"Yes, sir." Atreus nods, sitting up straight once again. "No more interruptions."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, the room is plunged into shadow as the sunlight pouring through the windows is suddenly blocked.

Everyone turns toward the source.

A gigantic pair of golden irises gazes into the room through the open windows. White eyelashes stand out against bronze skin.

"Helia?" Atreus gasps.

"THERE YOU ARE, ATREUS!" Helia cheers, kneeling in the field outside and stooping low enough to bring her eyes level with the third floor of the building. "Wanna go see Daphne the librarian with me? I heard from Gale that she wanted to meet ya."

The white-feathered harpy quickly attracts the attention of students in other classrooms, who gather at their windows to peer outside.

Instructor Titus raises his voice sternly, understanding that Helia is a teenager just like his students.

"We are in session. Disruptions like this will not be tolerated. Leave immediately, or I will make sure your mother hears about this."

Helia jolts at the reprimand.

"Oh no—don't tell my mom," she pleads, her soft yet raspy voice quivering. "I'm sorry! Can I just stay here and listen until it's over? I promise I'll be good!"

Titus sighs.

"Just this once, I suppose," he agrees. "You being here right now isn't so bad, actually. With you as a reference, the students can more easily visualize the difference between themselves and the predators they will be defending against."

"Yay! I'm glad to be of help."

The harpy lifts her face to a window to show off her broad smile.

"We could demonstrate it even better if everyone came outside," she adds playfully. "I promise I won't eat anyone for real."

She opens her mouth wide and makes a come-hither motion with her tongue while attempting to form a sentence.

"Wan-a c'wo-ha wook?"

The instructor sharply claps his hands to get her attention.

"Settle down there. I'm afraid you're not one of the harpies authorized to take part in instruction," Titus points out. "Now, allow me to resume the lesson."

Helia's expression straightens. Her lips purse as she tenses at the stern command.

The instructor returns his attention to the class.

"The thirty-meter-tall walls that surround this city aren't built to keep predators out—as much as we wish they could, that feat is impossible," he explains. "The best the walls can do is slow larger, non-flying predators long enough for us to defeat them before they make it through."

Pointing to the figures on the table, he continues.

"In the event of a wall breach, a team of twenty legionnaires led by one Specialis—or 'Elite'—will be assigned to a single predator. They will close in and neutralize the threat. Often, two harpies join the defense, but we can't rely on their help. We humans must remain the same formidable force that we were when we originally fought against the harpies and earned Ourana's respect."

A hand rises among the students. A boy named Felix, tall and lanky with short curly blond hair, looks perplexed.

"Why only one Elite Legionnaire per team?" he asks.

Titus patiently answers the boy's question.

"There simply aren't enough to use them carelessly, Felix," he says candidly. "A class such as this starts with twenty to twenty-four students, yet only half may take the final trial outside the city walls. Among those, less than half may survive."

Titus retrieves a shard of caeli crystal from his desk near the table.

"Don't forget—the majority of Torinians have no knowledge of how to use these conductive crystals to channel our innate magic, or 'psiki,' into elemental attacks such as fireballs and lightning bolts. Nor do they know how to use psiki to augment their strength and speed. Even in this military academy, only you—the Elite Candidate Class—have qualified to receive such training. Very, very few have ever tapped into that power without instruction."

"What about that girl who keeps breaking doors down around here?" Felix asks.

"Yes... her." Titus chuckles, rubbing his chin. "We're still not entirely sure how Bia arrived at the academy augmenting her strength as naturally as one breathes."

He ponders for a moment before continuing.

"Speaking of rare talents—I'm sure everyone is familiar with the thirteen-year-old prodigy, Alethea the Healer, whom we lost over a century ago when the sphinxes breached the walls during an attack. She was the first Torinian to manifest her innate magic as healing power—and without the use of a caeli crystal. Until she proved otherwise, it was believed that our innate magic served only destructive purposes."

The instructor's voice softens slightly.

"Alethea was an inspiration in many ways. Even in death, as a hospital collapsed around her while she was healing patients, she expressed the desire to show compassion toward our enemies. As my favorite Sacred Figure, Alethea reminds us to show compassion to everyone—even those who would harm us. Yet her death also serves as a reminder. A reminder that having these great walls surrounding our city does not mean we are safe."

Leon raises a hand.

"Has anyone else ever learned to use healing magic on others without a caeli crystal—or just Alethea?"

"No one that we know of," Titus answers.

While considering the question, the instructor's attention is drawn to the soft sound of someone gently snoring. If not for the size of the culprit, he might not have noticed it at all.

Looking through the windows, Titus spots the sleeping harpy. Her head rests against the outside wall, cushioned slightly by her thick white hair.

The instructor walks to a window and leans out.

"Wake the hell up before I have you plucked of every feather on your overgrown body!" he shouts, a hint of playfulness slipping into his tone.

Helia's eyes shoot open.

"Crap—did I doze off?"

Atreus snickers at his friend, barely managing to hide his face behind his hand.

The harpy notices immediately.

"I see you! Quit laughing," she demands with a pout.

Titus raises a hand to settle everyone down.

"That is enough for today, Helia. It's time for you to move along and actually get your work done for a change. Stop ducking those responsibilities of yours."

The harpy gives a slight nod.

"I know, but chores are boring. I'm going elf hunting instead until it's time to meet Daphne."

She spreads her wings and grins smugly at the class.

"Eat—I mean, meet'cha later!"

A rush of wind blasts through the classroom as the giant harpy launches herself into the sky.

"What's wrong with her?" a boy named Marcus asks in annoyance. "Why can't she be normal like the other harpies?"

"There's nothing wrong with her," Atreus snaps. "Helia is Helia!"

"Calm down, Atreus," Titus interrupts. "As for you, Marcus—let's not speak that way in my class. Just because you don't understand someone doesn't mean there's something wrong with them."

Instructor Titus surveys the faces of his students, making certain his point has been understood.

"Let us resume our lesson."

The day goes on.

The afternoon sun shines upon the city as Helia soars through the sky above it.

Her eyes scan the streets below for a suitable place to land. With the city having been rebuilt with giant harpies in mind after the conquest centuries ago, she needs only to find one of the areas designated for creatures her size.

At this moment, she seeks one place in particular.

She alights carefully within the Torinian Forum, the place where everyone goes to converse, debate, or hear and tell some new thing.

The plaza bustles with activity as citizens—both humans and human-sized harpies—move between shops, monuments, and gathering places.

Seeing the harpy arrive, a woman rises from the bench where she is seated. She carries a worn book pressed to her bosom, carefully guarding it.

The woman raises a hand to her mouth and clears her throat before lifting her voice so that the harpy will hear her above the many conversations filling the forum.

"To what misdeed do I owe this misery—to be affronted with the sight of your dreadful visage?"

Helia turns toward the woman's voice.

"Ah, there you are, Daphne," she says with a smile. "You look pretty awful yourself, bookworm—like two kensha beasts fought over a scrap of meat and your face got caught in the middle."

The woman snorts with laughter at Helia's greeting, hiding her smile behind one hand.

"Thank you. I try to look my best," she says, accepting the harpy's compliment.

Like most Torinian humans, she is fluent in harpy-speak and understands that the most crass and vicious-sounding comments from a harpy often carry the opposite intent.

The white-feathered harpy smirks at the tiny woman, taking in her appearance today—her thin build, long black hair, brown skin, and the glass objects she wears on her face to help her see better. Helia can never remember what those things are called.

"The airheaded dingbat told me you wanted to talk my ears off about something because you had nothing better to do," Helia says.

"Gale is correct—I wish to regale you with the tale of the harpy who flew too close to the sun," Daphne retorts, raising a hand to adjust her glasses.

"That's one I haven't heard since I was a chick," Helia says with a smirk, stooping down to meet the woman's gaze. "I hope you're not actually here to tell me cautionary tales for children."

"For children?" the woman repeats. "I'll be sure to inform Gale of how you feel about one of her favorite myths."

Helia waves a wing dismissively.

"Pfft—that dorky harpy's my best friend. You know that. She knows exactly what I think about all those stories you raised her on."

"Well, in any case," Daphne says with a laugh, "I'm here with a question about your other friend—the Speros family boy."

Helia blinks her golden eyes.

"Atreus?" she asks. "What—did he forget to return a book to the library or somethin'?"

Daphne takes a moment to check her surroundings before answering quietly.

"His father, Aiskylos, has been selling their belongings to make ends meet," she says somberly. "Being a librarian, I thought that rather than let him sell books for next to nothing, I would pay him a healthy amount for each one. I'm happy to add them to my collection."

"I see," Helia says, sadness creeping into her voice. "I don't think Atreus knows. Or maybe he just hasn't told me about it."

"Has he ever spoken of his grandparents, if you don't mind me asking?" Daphne says.

"No," Helia answers, her eyes widening with curiosity. "Come to think of it, he doesn't seem to have any family besides his dad."

Daphne tilts her head. She opens the book in her arms and places a hand on a letter tucked between its pages.

"This is a letter I found in one of the books that Aiskylos sold me," she explains. "It's written to Cadmeia. The author claims to be her mother and explains that she is 'leaving.' It struck me as odd because people do not simply leave the city, nor do they suddenly arrive. There's also no record of her birth. She was, and then she was not. It's all very disconcerting."

Daphne closes the book and taps a finger against her chin.

"Are you sure you don't know anything?" the librarian persists.

"Yeah, I'm positive," Helia answers. "But I'll ask him later when I see him."

Daphne nods.

"I suppose I'll have to resort to extreme research methods in order to satisfy my curiosity," she says. "The Wrath Maiden calls."

"Wait—you're going to see Priscilla?" Helia asks. "I've only heard rumors about her from the other harpies. She's creepy as all get out."

"Why don't we see for ourselves?" Daphne suggests.

"We?" Helia gulps.

"Are you afraid?" the librarian asks. "She and Aello the Demon Harpy are your mother's oldest and most trusted friends. Priscilla should be like an aunt to you. It's about time you paid her a visit."

Helia purses her lips.

The librarian can feel the harpy wavering.

"I'm sure you also have questions you'd like to ask her—about the past. Maybe even the future~"

Helia shifts one gigantic foot forward, balancing briefly on the other as she prepares to scoop the tiny woman up in her talons.

"Fine—let's go see the old dusty crypt-dweller."

She gently wraps her talons around Daphne and beats her wings, taking flight. Gusts of wind sweep through the forum, knocking over anyone who fails to brace themselves.

Daphne clutches her book in one hand and steadies her glasses with the other as she ascends rapidly in the grip of the giant white-feathered harpy.

They fly northeast, passing over the two great walls that surround the city and giving Daphne a view of the island that never grows old.

"I remember how terrified I was when Gale took me flying for the first time," she reminisces. "Now I catch myself wishing we would never return to the ground."

She watches the many harpies soaring above the mountaintop city.

"The freedom your size and flight provide is enviable."

Helia smiles uncomfortably, feeling awkward after Daphne's confession.

"I've gotta admit, it looks like it sucks to be a human... being tiny and all," Helia says. "But there are times when I wish I was more like you."

"Oh?" Daphne says, wanting to hear more.

Helia chooses not to elaborate, keeping those feelings to herself.

Soon she spots the entrance to the temple carved into the side of the mountain, flanked by gigantic stone pillars. Like many structures in Torin City, the temple was built by a much older giant civilization that no longer exists.

A path leading from the city's eastern gate to the temple is traveled by citizens seeking the Wrath Maiden's counsel. The route is considered safe not only because giant predators cannot approach this close to the city without being spotted, but also because the Wrath Maiden emanates a dreadful aura that drives them away.

Helia and Daphne both sense this aura and recoil slightly as they descend toward the ground. Helia lands softly on one foot and sets Daphne down with the other.

"This feeling," Helia says, grimacing and shivering slightly as she lowers her other foot. "It's terrifying."

"Indeed," Daphne agrees. "If I didn't know who lived here, I couldn't be paid to come here."

The two enter through the gigantic opening flanked by carved pillars. Other visitors are already waiting ahead of them, so the librarian and giant harpy must wait their turn.

While they do, they watch temple keepers replace exhausted caeli crystals with others freshly charged by sunlight to illuminate the restored halls.

Along the walls, reliefs of elven giantesses tell a story. The carvings depict how the giantesses who built the temple once worshipped a deity of primordial darkness and chaos. Now the temple belongs to Priscilla, and the elven giantesses have been replaced by Torinian devotees clad in ceremonial garb.

"She has her own cult," Daphne remarks. "Not unlike Ourana, your mother. I suppose it's human nature to worship creatures believed to be superior."

Helia looks down at the tiny humans moving about the temple.

"I don't like to think of our kind that way," she replies, sounding wounded by the observation. "I'm sorry to hear that some humans see giants as superior simply because we're predators. Humans are just as important. It's just... life."

Their turn to speak with Priscilla arrives.

The violet eyes of the larger harpy study the visitors.

Her hair, like her feathers, is black as night with a hint of purple. Her pale skin bears markings resembling dark flames, tattooed upon her waist by her attendants. Her eyelids and lips have likewise been darkened, lending her a grim yet beautiful appearance.

Upon her forehead rests the dark shape of a crescent moon, partially concealed by her long hair. The dark locks drape over her shoulders like twin curtains, covering her breasts and hanging down to her abdomen.

Helia swallows anxiously at the imposing sight of the Wrath Maiden, who stands at least six meters taller than she does.

The menacing aura emanating from Priscilla intensifies, becoming visible as a lightless fire engulfing her. The Wrath Maiden's eyes narrow.

The bronze-skinned harpy breaks into a cold sweat.

Then, abruptly, the grim harpy's mood changes.

"Helia—what an unpleasant surprise," Priscilla says with a smile. "I haven't seen you since you were a hatchling. And now you've come to pester me."

Daphne does a double take at the sudden shift. The harpy's presence becomes warm and welcoming, and she breathes a sigh of relief.

"Phew! I thought perhaps we had made an error by coming here."

Helia blinks in confusion, unsure what to make of Priscilla now.

"What's up with that, ey?" she pouts. "I just about laid an egg all over your floor!"

Priscilla smirks.

"Was that no fun for you? Would you prefer I did turn you inside out?" she asks. "Because the thought had crossed my mind."

"Uh... n-no," Helia says.

"That's a shame," Priscilla replies, pursing her lips in disappointment. "You have lovely bone structure. I'd love to see it without all that flesh in the way."

Helia's blood turns cold. She squats as low as she can and whispers into Daphne's ear.

"Can she actually do that?"

Daphne chuckles at the harpy's concern.

"She's only teasing you," she assures her. "I'm pleased to finally witness the dark humor I've heard so much about."

The woman adjusts her glasses, taking in the sight of the gargantuan harpy.

"Greetings, Priscilla," she says. "I am Daphne Logos, a librarian and researcher. Helia and I came seeking information—"

"About Atreus Speros," Priscilla interrupts.

Caught off guard by the Wrath Maiden's foreknowledge, Daphne pauses.

"Y-yes, that's right," she confirms. "Of course, you would already know why we came..."

"I can see a great deal—past, present, and future," the Wrath Maiden explains. "Yet there are things that elude my sight."

"Elude, you say?" Daphne asks, shocked.

"Yes," the dark harpy confirms.

"Doesn't that bother you?" the librarian asks.

"It makes me curious," Priscilla confesses. "Thus, I understand your hunger for knowledge. Notwithstanding, the boy will be gone before long. The past becomes irrelevant then."

Helia's heart sinks.

"What do you mean, 'gone'?"

Priscilla's gaze shifts to the younger harpy.

"As for you, Helia," she continues, "you may not feel so in your heart, but you are Ourana's daughter. Heal the scar which war made. Be courageous—no matter what happens."

"W-wait," Helia stammers. "What if I don't want to be courageous? What exactly is going to happen?"

"It's not good for you to know too much. I will say no more," Priscilla states, a dark grin spreading across her lips. "Now go... or I will tell your mother that it was you who ate Senator Cornelius's prized hippogriff."

"Ah, dridder-butts!" the harpy huffs. "You know about that, huh?"

Priscilla's smirk vanishes, and she recoils at Helia's choice of words.

The librarian notices immediately.

"Is something the matter, Priscilla?"

The black-haired harpy reluctantly confesses.

"I detest dridders."

Priscilla then gestures with one of her titanic wings for the harpy and librarian to be on their way. Others are still waiting for their turn to speak with her.

She turns to her devoted keepers, the cloaked humans awaiting her instructions.

"I will receive no more visitors until further notice," she informs them. "Something out there does not wish to be seen, and that demands my attention."

The keepers bow and depart to attend to their duties.

As Helia and Daphne step back into the open air, both purse their lips, feeling somewhat unsatisfied.

"Was it worth coming here?" Helia asks.

Daphne gazes out over the island in the early evening light from their vantage point high upon the mountain.

"Yes," she admits, clutching the book to her chest. "My suspicions are confirmed—something is unusual about the Speros family. For now, my research has reached an impasse, but I'll place a bookmark in it."

Helia nods and gently lifts the woman in her talons.

"To the library?" she asks.

"Yes," Daphne replies with a smile. "My home."

The harpy beats her wings and ascends into the darkening sky.

Meanwhile—

Caeli crystals glowing with stored sunlight illuminate the neighborhoods from atop the lampposts lining the streets. The weekend has begun, and the citizens are eager to dance and play.

Bia passes through her neighborhood in the Middle District as she heads toward the Lower District, where she first laid eyes on Atreus. The boy didn't notice her then, but since that day Bia has made numerous attempts to capture his attention—all without success.

"Tonight will be different," she says to herself. "I'll make sure he notices me!"

At this time of the week, as the streets grow darker and the people become filled with wine, it is riskier for her to walk alone. She sticks to the well-lit streets to avoid having to break anyone's wayward hands.

A legionnaire fastens a sign to a lamp post while several people gather around to read it.

THE LEGION WILL BE INCREASING SECURITY DUE TO ELEVATED RISK OF ATTACK ON THE CITY.

IN THE EVENT OF AN EMERGENCY, CITIZENS MUST SEEK SHELTER INDOORS.

The notice elicits skeptical laughter from the crowd.

"An attack on Torin? How?"

"The sphinxes can't even get close to the walls with all the harpies and ballistae they'd have to get through."

"We haven't heard from them in years. Surely they wouldn't dare!"

"If it wasn't for the Traitor, the sphinxes would've been run off this island by now."

Bia thoughtfully considers the warning. She, too, concludes that the Legion is being overly cautious as she continues through the streets of the Middle District.

As she nears the border of the Lower District, the laughter of familiar voices draws her off course.

Following the sound, she finds her brothers—quadruplets in their early twenties—hanging out in front of a bathhouse.

Nicknamed Flex, Arrow, Sunny, and Two Coins—collectively known as the FAST Brothers—they are up to their usual antics, which typically involve either matchmaking with women or squaring up with men for a fight.

Tonight they are enjoying the company of two human-sized harpies named Dion and Eva.

One of the brothers, Sunny, is busy trying to convince at least one of them to let him wash her back. The harpies are not difficult to persuade, though they seem determined to get as much out of the brothers as possible.

"Hey, Bia!" Two Coins shouts exuberantly, spotting her across the street.

The brothers immediately turn their attention away from their company and call out together.

"Bia—hey! Come here!"

Bia skips across the street, grinning broadly.

"Whatcha up to, guys?" she asks, drawing out the y-sound for fun. "Any good fights yet? Need me to start one?"

"What? No." Arrow laughs, being the brother most inclined to stay out of trouble.

Though his brothers are only minutes older than him, he seems years more mature from Bia's perspective. He keeps his hair trimmed short and neat, being something of a perfectionist.

"Hey, speak for yourself," Flex pipes up, rolling his shoulders. "I'm in the mood for a good throwdown."

As the eldest, Bia assumes his eagerness to throw hands stems from a protective instinct—not unlike her own. His long dreadlocks are never cut because he believes doing so would bring bad luck.

The second oldest, Two Coins, is arguably the smartest member of the family—"arguably" because Bia often suspects he's so smart that he overthinks things and ends up looking foolish. His shoulder-length hair is braided with meticulous attention to symmetry.

The third son, Sunny, is the only brother who comes close to matching Bia's level of hyperactivity. Like hers, his spiky black hair is unruly and seemingly immune to gravity.

At times, Bia feels that she embodies a little of each brother standing before her.

"Where are you headed?" Two Coins asks. "Home is the other direction."

"To meet someone—nothin' for you guys to worry about," Bia answers cryptically.

"Wait—are you still crushing on the Devil's son?" Sunny asks, being unusually perceptive.

The brothers, like most citizens, are familiar with the son of the infamous traitor Cadmeia.

"Atreus is nowhere near as bad as people make him out to be," Bia argues. "Guilt by association is so stupid!"

"I'll agree with Bia there," Arrow says. "I bet most people are just waiting for him to screw up so they can confirm what they already believe about him."

"Kind of like what the Torin family has done to our family in the past, right?" Flex reminds them, bitterness creeping into his tone. "That Atreus kid is fighting an uphill battle. I think there's a little of him in all of us."

"Yes!" Bia agrees emphatically. "Only I want there to be a lot of him in me!"

The phrasing draws puzzled looks from her brothers and their dates, but no one says anything. They silently wait for Bia to realize what she just said.

Dion, the blue-haired harpy with red-and-blue feathers, snickers.

Bia's eyes go wide.

"WAIT—that came out wrong!"

"Argh! Enough about me. What's the deal with your clothes?" she asks, noticing their unusually clean tunics and sandals. "Tired of looking like you got thrown out with the trash?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, tiny tits?" Flex replies.

"I sure would, ya big bed wetter," Bia fires back.

Flex immediately flinches.

"Hey—woah. Shhh. Take it down a notch," he pleads, nervously glancing at the accompanying harpies.

"Oh right—off limits," Bia says. "Sorry."

"Hey, how's the academy been?" Arrow asks, changing the subject.

"Oh yeah—that." Bia exhales. "Well, I broke another door down. It kinda got in my way while I was chasing a boy."

Her brothers erupt into laughter, while the harpies look genuinely shocked that she can mention such a thing so casually.

"You have super strength or something?" Eva—the blonde-haired harpy with purple and orange feathers—asks.

"I guess," Bia answers.

"What?" Dion asks. "Ya don't like to lie or ya don't like to tell the truth—which?"

"Our sister never lacks words unless she's talking about herself," Arrow says warmly.

"It's mysterious," Two Coins says. "Somehow, Bia found a way to get stronger than all of us—that's all we know."

"Not stronger than me," Flex challenges, leaning against the wall of the bathhouse with his arms folded.

He presents a coin pinched between his thumb and index finger.

"Unless she can prove it by taking this coin from my hand."

Bia glances at the passersby in the street outside the bathhouse.

"You sure you wanna go, bro?" she asks. "Right here? Right now?"

"It's definitely not going to get out of hand, right?" Arrow asks sarcastically.

Two Coins chimes in with caution.

"Um... it might not be strategically beneficial to roughhouse in public again if we want to stay out of trouble. We're still on thin ice after that time we tried to be crime-fighting vigilantes."

Unfortunately, his concerns are ignored by his siblings.

"Same rules as always—the loser gets the leftovers at dinner!" Sunny shouts, egging them on.

"There are never any leftovers," Bia protests.

Flex closes his fist around the coin and smirks.

"That sounds like the loser's problem to—"

Before he can finish, Bia grabs the two-meter-tall man and hoists him onto her shoulders in a fireman's carry, sprinting into the bathhouse. With Bia standing only 175 centimeters tall, it makes for a jaw-dropping sight.

"Bia, what are you doing?" Flex asks, panic rising in his voice as she charges toward the sound of splashing water.

"HEY—NO RUNNING!" the manager yells as the girl's sandaled feet slap across the dangerously wet tile floor.

Flex realizes where she's headed.

"This is the men's side!"

"Oh, that's right," Bia gasps in realization.

She does not slow down.

"You all better cover your pork and beans because I'm comin'!"

Her shout startles the men at the pool, and they scramble to preserve their dignity.

The girl leaps into the water with Flex still flailing across her shoulders.

The siblings wrestle wildly in the pool, splashing water everywhere as they struggle for possession of the coin.

The other three brothers leave their dates and gather at the poolside.

"I suppose I should have expected this," Two Coins says. "The probability of Bia running screaming into the men's bath with one of us on her shoulders at least once in her life was very low—but never zero."

Bia suddenly bursts from the water with one fist raised high.

"I GOT IT!" she cheers. "I WON! HA! Looks like you get the leftovers tonight, Flex!"

"You cheated," Flex grumbles while choking on water.

Bia climbs out of the pool, already thinking about getting her fill at dinner later that night.

The brothers' eyes widen.

So do the eyes of every man watching.

"Hey, sis," Sunny calls out. "You might've won the fight, but you lost your clothes."

Bia pauses and looks down.

Her brown skin is mostly exposed, save for the remains of her torn tunic hanging around her waist—held in place only by the belt she wears—and the sandals laced to her shins.

"Oh..." she says with surprising calm. "I thought it felt kinda breezy."

Arrow immediately throws her a towel while covering his own eyes.

She catches it and starts drying herself off.

"No—put it on," Arrow tells her.

"I will," Bia says. "Lemme dry off first!"

Sunny collapses into laughter, clutching his sides.

Nearby, a man sits at the edge of the pool soaking his feet in the water. His mouth hangs open at the sight of the exposed girl.

Sunny notices.

His amusement instantly disappears.

"Hey—what the hell do you think you're doing looking at my sister like that?" he asks.

Without waiting for an answer, Sunny rushes over and plants a swift kick into the man's side, sending him splashing into the pool.

Flex smirks and punches another man standing nearby.

Bia stops drying herself and stares with wide eyes at the sudden violence.

A grin spreads across her face.

"POOL FIGHT!"

"What the hell?" the manager finally asks, having been stunned into silence for so long.

The sounds of splashing water and flying fists echo throughout the bathhouse, even reaching people in other rooms.

"You know," one woman remarks while washing her hair beside a pool, "the FAST Brothers were outside by the entrance earlier."

"Ah, that explains it," another woman replies as she relaxes in the hot water. "We need another war with the elves and sphinxes so the Yahwa family can send their sons to fight the enemy for a change."

Later that night—

In the Lower District, far removed from the chaos in the Middle District bathhouse, a father argues with his son in their apartment on the top floor.

The room grows emptier by the day as the father sells anything that might have value. Their strongbox stands open, though there is no gold or jewelry left worth storing inside.

The strain shows plainly on his face.

"The money will come eventually," the boy tells his father, though his words lack conviction. "I'm okay with eating less right now. When I become an Elite Legionnaire, I'll earn enough to move us to a lower floor—maybe even to the Middle District."

His eyes occasionally drift toward the empty wine bottles on the table.

He restrains himself from commenting on them.

"Atreus, be realistic for once in your life," his father, Aiskylos, says. "Enough of this pie-in-the-sky hippogriff-shit. If you want a better life, quit the academy and go work in the quarry. Earn people's trust that way."

"That won't fix anything. I'll just be hiding forever," Atreus argues.

"Exactly," his father says. "Give it enough years and everyone will forget what happened. Or at least maybe they'll forget about us."

Atreus shakes his head.

"No. I'd rather die."

"Yeah, you're going to die, and if we're lucky that's all that'll happen!" Aiskylos yells. "That's your fucking problem. That attitude is how your mother got us into this mess."

"The only way to fix this mess is to undo what she did!" Atreus yells back.

"Get out, boy."

The command comes sharp and immediate.

Aiskylos retrieves his son's leather backpack and throws it onto the floor between them.

"You think you're the man now? You think you get to talk over me? Then find your own place to live. Don't drag me into any more disgrace!"

Atreus picks up the backpack and reluctantly turns toward the door.

In that moment, Aiskylos remembers the day Cadmeia walked out that same door and never returned.

The wound in his heart tears open again.

He snatches up an empty wine bottle and hurls it.

Atreus slips through the doorway just before the bottle smashes against the wall.

The boy races down the many flights of stairs, his footsteps echoing loudly in his ears.

He exits onto the street and crosses the cobblestones until he reaches the edge of the grass.

Here, at the outer edge of the residential district, an open field of trees and brush separates him from the Great Inner Wall.

The sight reminds him daily that there is a world beyond Torin.

Yet even more than the city he lives in, that world is hostile to him.

He groans softly.

If only his life could be as beautiful as the stars shining overhead.

As he gazes into the darkness beyond the city, a war wages within him.

His anger rages like a storm, held back by the wall of optimism he has spent years building. Sometimes that wall cracks.

Every day it becomes harder to maintain beneath the burden of being Cadmeia's son.

He walks into the field toward the place where he often meets Helia when he isn't sitting on his rooftop.

Tonight, just for a little while, he will allow the breach.

"DAMN IT!"

Atreus throws down his backpack and tunic.

Alone and far from any neighbors, he begins exercising as he vents his frustration.

He starts with push-ups, counting furiously while old memories flood his mind.

He remembers his mother leaving while his father pleaded with her to stay.

He remembers what he felt then, as a six-year-old boy.

Now a voice speaks those feelings aloud.

"She didn't love you enough to stay."

Atreus pushes himself to his feet and heads for a nearby tree, jumping up to a branch and beginning a set of pull-ups.

In his mind, he sees the Scarlet Vixen—the giant fox-human hybrid his mother chose over the Torinians.

The voice returns.

"Destroy her the way she destroyed your life."

He drops from the branch and lands carefully on the grass.

Breathing heavily, Atreus sets his eyes on a tree a hundred meters away.

Visions of children racing toward the tree appear before him.

His memories carry him back years—to the days when he competed with other children for a place in the Elite Legionnaire class at the Taiyo Academy.

The voice echoes a thought that repeated often in his mind at that time.

"You cannot afford to fail."

He sprints forward, letting his anger drive him deeper as he calls upon his academy training to enhance his physical abilities through innate magic.

"You must be faster and stronger than everyone else just to prove you belong."

He blows past the tree eight seconds later.

"It's not enough."

Atreus breathes deeply as he slows to a walk and turns back toward his starting point, still troubled by the voice within.

"It will never be enough."

He lifts his gaze toward the sky. The words seem to escape on their own.

"WHY?"

"Why, damn it? WHY?"

"WHY DID I HAVE TO BE HER SON?"

He isn't sure whom he's asking—the creator god Soma, his ancestors, or perhaps some force he has yet to identify.

For a moment, despair takes hold.

The voice speaks again.

"There is no hope."

The words physically hurt him, the pain plain upon his face. He breathes deeply, searching for the optimism that has always carried him forward.

"No... there's always hope," he reminds himself.

He questions the path ahead—the only path he can see.

"But is my hope truly dependent upon me killing the Scarlet Vixen?"

"Is it truly that or misery for the rest of my life?"

Retrieving his tunic, the boy dresses himself once more. He slings his leather bag over his right shoulder.

He isn't angry anymore.

Only thirsty.

That will have to wait. He can find a public fountain near one of the bathhouses later.

First, he needs to rest.

After leaving the field, Atreus crosses the street and leans against the wall of an insula, sliding down until he is seated upon the ground.

Using his bag as a cushion for his head, he begins singing quietly to himself.

A song of encouragement.

He repeats it until sleep finally claims him.

Later that night, after the nightlife has quieted—

A girl wearing a torn tunic and a towel walks nearby, examining the insulae with pursed lips.

The street becomes one-sided here at the edge of the residential district. On one side stand the apartment buildings. On the other, grass and trees begin.

"I think this is where I first saw him as a kid," she says to herself, remembering the day she wandered far from home to explore the city.

"I wanted to see what was way over here at the edge of the Lower District."

She continues past the boy sitting against the wall, asleep with his head lowered and his arms resting on his knees, mistaking him for a homeless man.

Then she stops.

The innate sense she jokingly calls her "cute boy detector" sends a tingling sensation through her body.

She turns and looks more closely.

Recognizing his spiky auburn hair—and countless other details of the fit build she has obsessively committed to memory—her eyes light up.

"ATREUS!"

She runs over and kneels beside him, grinning from ear to ear.

"I'm so glad I found you," she tells him. "I want to tell you something."

Atreus awakens, disoriented.

"Huh—what?" he mumbles, trying to understand what is happening.

"Buui?"

The girl laughs and gently corrects him.

"No. Bia."

Atreus nods, grief and exhaustion weighing heavily upon him.

"Oh... that's right. I'm sorry," he apologizes. "What was it you wanted to tell me?"

He looks up at her, masking his pain with a smile.

Bia isn't fooled.

Her heart immediately begins to ache.

"N-nothing," she says. "It's nothing."

She sits down beside him.

"Do you need a place to stay?"

"What I need..." Atreus muses. "What I need is to kill the Scarlet Vixen."

He pauses.

"The monster my mother betrayed us all for. Then everything will get better."

Bia understands.

She doesn't argue.

She is certain she cannot truly imagine what it would be like to be the child of "the Devil."

"I wish I could do something," she says, looking into his eyes.

"Don't worry about me," Atreus replies with a smile, fatigue evident on his face. "There are cloudy days, but there's always a ray of sunlight—even if we have to be it ourselves."

Bia is deeply moved by his words.

At the same time, she feels angry.

She turns her gaze toward the Inner Great Wall in the distance and pulls her legs to her chest.

"You've kept such a positive outlook," she says in admiration. "Despite it all."

Atreus remains silent.

The night is warm.

A gentle breeze rustles the leaves of the distant trees, while insects chirp across the field. To Bia, who lives among tightly packed insulae surrounded by other buildings, the sounds are strangely soothing.

She considers that even the Lower District has its advantages.

Occasionally, neighbors entering or leaving their apartments disturb the quiet, and Bia watches them absentmindedly.

Then she realizes something.

In this private moment, she has the perfect opportunity to tell Atreus how she feels.

Her throat tightens.

The sensation frustrates her.

She hates how fearless she can be when it comes to fighting, yet hides inside her shell whenever it comes to expressing her love.

There is no more fearsome opponent than this.

At least, so she reckons.

But why?

What makes expressing love so terrifying?

She swallows hard.

"Just tell him," she mutters.

The girl takes a deep breath, steadying herself before forcing the words out.

"Atreus—the thing I wanted to tell you..."

She turns toward him.

Her mouth stops.

A sigh escapes her.

She has missed another opportunity.

The boy is asleep.

"For how long?" Bia asks herself.

Though she knows he cannot hear her, she follows through anyway.

"I wanted to tell you... that I love you, Atreus."

She leans back against the wall and gazes toward the sky beyond the Great Inner Wall towering over the trees.

She had almost forgotten there was an enormous world waiting beyond those walls.

Bia leans gently against Atreus and breathes deeply, smiling contentedly.

Further east, atop a lookout post on the Great Inner Wall—

A legionnaire patrols back and forth along his assigned section.

He passes another legionnaire and offers a brief greeting.

"All clear."

"All clear," the other legionnaire replies.

After checking in, they continue on their separate routes.

The man yawns and gazes out over the land between the walls.

Movement catches his eye.

Among the trees, something stirs.

Something large enough to move a tree.

No.

It is the tree.

No.

It is an entire cluster of trees.

The legionnaire shakes his head in disbelief.

"The trees are moving?"

A gigantic shadow suddenly falls over the wall, drawing his attention away from the strange sight.

A harpy descends from above, hovering over him on beating golden wings.

Her long blond hair is bound into a single braid by three shining metal rings. Emerald eyes scan the landscape below.

"Eos—you're back?" the legionnaire asks.

The exceptionally beautiful and voluptuous harpy glances down at the tiny man with an unmistakable air of superiority. Golden freckles shimmer across her cheeks.

"Yes. That cantankerous raptor Aello sent for me, requiring my services."

She turns her attention back toward the moving trees.

Using her unique ability to sense souls, she searches the darkness.

"Some of those trees aren't trees at all," Eos warns the legionnaire. "Get away from here and sound the horn!"

The legionnaire lifts the horn at his side and blows it as hard as he can before running to safety as ordered.

Eos fixes her gaze upon a cluster of trees.

"Cute disguise," she admits. "But your illusions cannot deceive my senses. Now, show yourself!"

Realizing she has been discovered, the centaur dispels her magic and reveals her true form.

Her human half is draped in a cloak, with long green hair flowing from beneath the hood. A bow hangs across her body, and a quiver of arrows is strapped to her back over the cloak. The deer half of her body bears dark rune-like markings, likely tied to ritual magic.

"Ah—just when I thought all of my patience was about to pay off and we'd slip into the city unnoticed," she says, pulling her bow over her head. "But for your knowledge, I anticipated that you—or Harriet—might still cause a problem."

"We?" Eos asks.

The centaur draws an arrow with two jars of liquid bound to it.

"Yes."

With a devilish grin, she looses the arrow over the wall, narrowly missing the harpy.

The golden-feathered harpy glares at her.

"You four-legged wretch!"

"The name is Artemis, you morbidly obese fowl," the centaur replies with a smug smile.

"Morbidly obese?" Eos screams, beside herself with outrage. Had the insult come from another harpy, she might have dismissed it as harpy-speak. Artemis, however, clearly means it.

"I'll rip your worthless eyes out for that!"

"You have other concerns now," Artemis says coolly, dismissing the threat.

In the Temple District, the arrow crashes into the street. The jars shatter upon impact, and the mixing liquids erupt into a violent explosion.

The fireball startles Eos.

Shaken from her anger, she turns and watches flames rise into the night sky from within the city.

Meanwhile, other hidden centaurs surrounding the city see the signal.

"A fireball—we've been discovered," says another centauress with short brown hair.

The illusion upheld by Artemis fades away, revealing their true forms.

"We have to move now."

Nearby legionnaires spot the disguised centaurs revealing themselves around the city and immediately sound their horns in warning.

Back on the south side of the city—

Artemis takes a running start and leaps over the Great Inner Wall.

The other centaurs follow.

Once clear of the wall, they begin their hunt.

Fire spreads through the Temple District, sending citizens fleeing in panic. So far, they remain unaware of the hungry predators that will soon be upon them.

Warning horns echo throughout the city as Artemis's hooves thunder through the narrow cobblestone streets of the Upper District.

Like the other invading giants, she snatches citizens amidst the chaos and hastily gulps them down, pausing only long enough to decide where to hunt next.

In the Lower District, Atreus still sleeps, oblivious to the warnings.

A sudden jolt against his shoulder wakes him.

His eyes struggle to open.

A silhouette passes before his face.

The boy attempts to make out its shape as it swiftly gains distance and disappears around the corner of a nearby building.

For a moment, he wonders if he imagined it.

Yet the touch had felt so real.

Now fully awake, he becomes aware of the warning horns.

Turning to his other side, he discovers Bia asleep beside him, leaning against his shoulder.

"Why is she here?" he wonders, remembering little of what happened before he fell asleep.

Gently, he nudges her awake.

"Hey, listen. Do you hear that sound?"

Bia yawns and rubs sleep from her eyes.

"Ungh... I was having such a good dream."

The horns reach her ears.

Instantly, she becomes alert.

"What—wait. Are those warning horns?" she asks. "Is that possible?"

Atreus searches for a less frightening explanation.

"Before we panic," he says, rising to his feet, "perhaps we should—"

A tremendous boom interrupts him.

The sound of crumbling stone follows.

The ground trembles beneath their feet as though gigantic footsteps are crossing the city.

The two exchange fearful looks.

Something large is nearby.

Something dangerous.

Bia scrambles to her feet and rushes down the street toward the nearest intersection.

Peering around the corner, she gasps and covers her mouth.

Atreus hurries after her.

In the distance, a giant deer-like centaur forces her way through the narrow streets, crushing buildings and scattering fleeing citizens.

Long silver hair streams behind her, occasionally falling across a sharp face framed by eyes the color of autumn leaves.

The centaur snatches panicked citizens from the streets and devours them with frightening speed.

"By Soma," Atreus gasps as he watches victim after victim disappear into her mouth.

Bia's heart races.

"My family! Mom. Dad. My brothers! I have to make sure they're okay."

Atreus nods.

He understands completely.

Bia looks into his eyes, biting back the words she wants to say.

"There isn't time," Atreus urges. "You have to go."

Swallowing those words, Bia turns and runs toward the Middle District.

The centaur plucks another unfortunate citizen from the wreckage of a collapsed building and tosses him into her mouth before continuing eastward.

Toward the Middle District.

Atreus looks up.

Movement catches his attention.

Concerned citizens lean from windows high above the streets, trying to see what is happening.

"Get back inside!" he shouts. "Don't let it see you!"

Some heed his warning.

Others do not.

The boy can only hope the centaur never comes his way, unaware that the giant predator did not arrive alone.

For a brief moment, he glances toward his own insula.

Then he makes a choice.

People are trapped in the collapsed buildings.

If there is a chance to help them, he will take it.

Moving carefully down the street, he stays close to the walls and keeps his senses sharp.

Suddenly, movement in his peripheral vision startles him.

He gasps and presses himself against the wall.

Seconds later, realization dawns.

The figure he saw wasn't a giant.

"Wait... that was..."

Cautiously, he peeks around the corner.

A girl stands there, also pressed against the wall and trying to remain hidden.

His eyes widen.

"No way..."

The girl, dressed in a white toga and golden sandals, groans in frustration.

Her face turns bright red as she tries unsuccessfully to hide it behind her hands.

Even if other girls copied her appearance, there is no mistaking the scent of expensive strawberry perfume.

"Rhea!"

At the mention of her name, she reveals her frowning face.

"D-damn it, Atreus! I told you to stay away from me!"

The boy gives her a baffled look.

"I'm trying to," he replies. "But you're in my neighborhood. What are you doing in my neighborhood?"

"I was jogging, you idiot," Rhea insists. "Am I not allowed to jog outside the academy campus?"

"Yes, but what about your birthday party?" Atreus asks, drawing attention to her glaring absence.

"What about it?" she replies dismissively. Then she points at him.

"No—actually, shut up already! Don't question me!"

"There's a giant centaur eating people inside the city right now," Atreus says, raising his voice.

"DO YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW THAT BY NOW?" Rhea shouts back.

Atreus sighs.

Without another word, he runs toward the rubble in search of survivors.

Rhea immediately recognizes what he intends to do.

Reluctantly, she follows.

High above, a harpy pursues the silver-haired centaur through the skies, accompanied by legionnaires riding gliders propelled by wind magic.

The centaur leads them on a chase, seemingly delighted by the thrill of the hunt.

The numerous giant centaurs rampaging through the city have caught the Legion completely unprepared.

As a result, they are given precious time to feast upon the unfortunate citizens caught outside that night.

For the people of Torin, the once-ridiculous notion that predators could threaten them behind their secure walls has become a horrifying reality.

General Aello struggles to get an accurate count of the invaders as she hastily scrambles only a fraction of her forces, frustrated by the fact that summoning additional harpies from the mountainside takes time she does not have.

As the silver-haired centaur in the Lower District advances toward the Middle District, pursued by Torin's defenders, she receives aid from Artemis, who fires arrows that release a temporarily paralyzing powder upon the harpies and legionnaires.

As the powder takes effect, sending the harpy and human legionnaires plunging toward the city below, Artemis hands the other centaur a clay jar.

"We are almost done here, Enyo," Artemis says urgently. "Will you stay or will you go?"

"I will stay," Enyo replies. "I'm still hungry."

Artemis bows her head in respect.

"Hunt well."

Enyo returns the gesture before continuing toward the center of the city.

The silver-haired centaur soon encounters another group of legionnaires manning a ballista.

Her eyes lock onto the large crystal rod charging with energy as the crew powers the weapon. She knows a well-placed shot could prove deadly.

The narrow street leaves her little room to evade.

She hurls down the clay jar.

Smoke erupts and quickly fills the air.

One of the legionnaires—an Elite—steps forward and slashes through the smoke with a sword, releasing a blast of wind magic to clear the path.

Enyo uses the brief delay to bring a hoof crashing down upon the ballista, crushing it.

Her hand follows.

Before two fallen legionnaires can recover, she scoops them up.

Knowing harpy reinforcements will soon arrive, she dashes away from the others.

At least she has two more meals.

Ignoring their kicking and screaming, she shoves both legionnaires into her mouth.

She swallows them with delight and continues her hunt, thrilled by the high-stakes game she is playing.

Elsewhere—

Artemis heads toward the Lower District, knowing her window to escape over the walls is rapidly closing.

As Atreus and Rhea dig through the rubble of a collapsed building, it becomes increasingly clear that they lack the strength to reach anyone trapped deep below.

Rhea straightens up, standing higher upon the pile than Atreus.

"It's no use," she says, dusting off her hands. "We should leave now. If that centaur comes back around, we'll only end up as prey. I refuse to let that happen."

"I think it's worth the risk if we can save even one person," Atreus replies, continuing to move stones with his bare hands. "If we're lucky, the centaur won't come back here."

"Lucky?" Rhea repeats, offended.

"That kind of naivety is going to get you eaten alive, Atreus," she warns. "Don't be a fool. These people are gone. No amount of digging—no amount of tears shed—is going to bring them back. All you'll accomplish is leaving anyone who cares about you behind to mourn."

Atreus does not argue.

He simply keeps digging.

At first Rhea watches him with frustration.

Then her expression softens.

"You're so annoying," she breathes, warmth slipping into her voice.

Immediately she catches herself.

Her irritation spikes once again.

"Ugh—keep it together, Rhea," she mutters.

"Huh?" Atreus asks. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Rhea storms down from the rubble pile, brushing dust from her tunic.

"For the last time—stay away from me," she snaps before running down the street toward the outskirts of the city, where the silver-haired centaur seems less likely to be hunting.

Atreus sighs and resumes his rescue effort.

"I finally got to spend time with her, and it had to be on a day like this."

He kneels atop the rubble.

Those who weren't eaten before the collapse are probably beyond his ability to reach.

If any survivors remain at all.

Still, he digs.

Even he isn't entirely sure what keeps him going.

More harpies streak overhead.

The desperately needed reinforcements are finally arriving.

Atreus begins to realize that something much larger than he first imagined is unfolding.

A smaller harpy, standing roughly fifteen meters tall, lands near the collapsed building.

Bright yellow eyes, purple hair tied into twin spiky pigtails, and sky-blue feathers make her a colorful sight. Tiny crystalline specks scattered throughout her hair and feathers sparkle beneath the night sky.

Though normally loud and jovial, the harpy seems subdued as she looms over the young man.

"Woot! Hey there! My name's Azora," she introduces herself gently. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Atreus answers somberly. "I can't say the same for anyone who might be trapped beneath this rubble."

"I see."

The harpy glances at the wreckage.

"I'll do what I can for the people here as soon as possible. First, I gotta get you somewhere safe."

"Safe?" Atreus asks.

Questioning where such a place even exists.

"Do you know my friend Helia?"

"Woot! Sure do," Azora says with an enthusiastic nod. "I live down by the shore. She's always getting in trouble for scaring fishermen by yelling 'Mermaid!'"

"That sounds about right," Atreus admits. "Do you think you can find her?"

"I can try."

The harpy crouches low, bringing her face closer to him.

"Come on—we'll search together."

She opens her mouth.

Atreus peers inside curiously, wondering if there isn't a better method of transportation.

Then he notices her webbed feet.

Picking him up isn't really an option.

Apparently he has only one.

"You can trust me," Azora assures him.

Atreus shrugs and climbs into the midsized harpy's mouth.

Azora gently closes her lips around her passenger.

Given her relatively modest size, the 183-centimeter-tall boy fills much of her mouth, puffing out her cheeks despite his efforts to make himself as small as possible.

The harpy beats her wings and launches skyward, setting a course beyond the city walls toward Helia's nest.

Amid the chaos, Azora scans the skies for Atreus' white-feathered friend while other harpies rush past her to engage the invading centaurs.

Three of the centaurs scramble toward the walls under assault from incoming harpies and elemental bolts fired from legionnaire ballistae.

Using their powerful cervidae legs, they leap over the Great Inner Wall and race for the Outer Great Wall.

A beige-feathered harpy named Dirai meets General Aello high above the city.

Wild light-brown hair hangs over half her face as she delivers her report.

"Four of those loathsome four-leggers are left, General," she says. "Three have been cornered in the Temple District. The leader is heading south and west toward the walls. I'm going after her."

Aello gives her a searching look.

"Is that the centaur that ate your husband, Dirai?"

Pain flashes across the harpy's face.

She nods.

"I'm positive it's the same bitch."

"Be careful," Aello warns. "I'll send backup as soon as I can. Until then, don't get yourself killed."

"I promise," Dirai replies. "I won't die until I tear her head clean off."

The vengeful harpy immediately veers away in pursuit of Artemis.

As Rhea runs along the outskirts of the city through the unkempt field between the residential district and the Great Inner Wall, she gradually slows.

She looks back toward the Lower District.

The cries of panicked citizens and the sounds of battle carry through the night.

The future legionnaire realizes there are multiple predators inside the city.

The worst possible scenario.

"You must keep going, Rhea," she tells herself. "Forget about Atreus. People as naive as him end up getting eaten alive. By now he's probably been discovered by that predator."

She turns toward the academy.

Then back toward the Lower District.

Back toward Atreus.

"Don't let your stupid heart get you killed," she breathes.

Suddenly, earthshaking footsteps approach.

Rhea gasps.

Ahead of her, beyond a row of buildings, a centaur emerges into the open field.

Her front hooves slam into the ground as she comes to a halt.

Something small has caught her eye.

Rhea's heart sinks as Artemis fixes her gaze upon her.

"Shit. I delayed too long."

"Why hello there, little prey," Artemis greets.

Rhea stiffens her jaw.

"I'm no one's prey."

Artemis smiles.

The deer-like ears atop her human head twitch.

"What an amusing thing to say."

The giant centaur studies the tiny girl standing before her.

Hardly a mouthful.

"I could easily prove you wrong."

Rhea refuses to show even a hint of fear.

Artemis nods slightly in approval.

"I like you, little one."

Meanwhile, in the Lower District—

Helia alights in the field across the street from Atreus's insula. She steps forward and crouches, peering through his window on the top floor.

Finding no sign of him, the giant harpy grows anxious.

"Atreeeeus," she whispers melodically, pressing her lips against the window. "Are you in there?"

She straightens and checks again, looming over the apartment building.

The boy isn't on the roof either.

"Atreus," she calls softly through the window once more.

A neighbor on a lower floor leans out and gazes up at the giantess's torso.

"We're in a state of emergency, dumb ass!" he shouts. "Why don't you loudly whisper for your friend another time—assuming he didn't get eaten already."

Helia frowns at the man.

"Well, excuse me, jerk face!"

Just then, movement catches the corner of her eye.

A giant figure emerges from between buildings in the distance to the east.

She whips her head around, sending her shoulder-length white hair flying.

"It's that centaur," she gasps, recognizing the predator that attacked the lumberjacks.

Artemis bends down for a closer look at Rhea's eyes, appearing to recognize something within them.

"Very curious," the centaur remarks. "I've never been admired by a human before."

As Artemis wonders why such a thing might be, and Rhea searches her own heart to determine whether the centaur somehow understands her better than she understands herself, the night sky begins to brighten strangely.

For a moment, it resembles dawn.

Artemis lifts her gaze toward the northeast, in the direction of Ourana's court.

"It appears the sun is rising," she breathes.

Then she looks back at Rhea.

"The Mother Bird is stirring. I must go now."

The centaur begins to gallop away.

"I hope to see you again one day. May you survive until then."

Rhea watches as the cloaked centaur effortlessly clears the thirty-meter wall—a feat nearly equal to Artemis's own height and utterly unimaginable to a girl standing only 178 centimeters tall.

Feeling conflicted by the night's events, she continues toward the academy.

Watching from afar, Helia sees the centaur disappear over the Great Inner Wall.

"What was her part in all this?" she wonders aloud.

Another familiar giant suddenly flies over the wall in pursuit.

"Dirai!"

Helia's eyes widen.

"She's going after that centaur alone?"

Without hesitation, Helia launches herself into the air and gives chase.

Outside the Great Outer Wall, Azora circles over Helia's empty nest.

She allows Atreus to poke his head out of her mouth and look around.

"Damn. We must've just missed her," Atreus guesses. "Can we check inside the city again?"

The midsized harpy banks in the air.

But not toward the city.

Atreus immediately grows uneasy.

She gently sucks him back into her mouth and seals her lips.

Shut once again inside the cramped darkness, Atreus cannot help questioning her.

"Azora... was it?" he asks. "Where are you going?"

The harpy lands in a clearing on the mountainside and immediately slumps forward in exhaustion, her wings drooping heavily.

"Ah'm sowwy," she mumbles around the boy in her mouth.

Breathing heavily, she lowers her face close to the ground and parts her lips so Atreus can slide safely out.

The young man lands in a puddle of saliva.

The cold mountain air quickly reminds him that his red tunic and gray trousers are completely soaked.

The harpy looks embarrassed.

"Sorry about that."

Atreus laughs quietly.

"I'm actually used to it. Don't worry."

Azora's eyes go wide.

"You are? Wow... okay."

She laughs.

"Well, I hope you don't mind if I take a break. You see, I'm more of a land-and-sea girl. I can run really far and really fast. But my wings? They tire easily."

"I see," Atreus says, wiping excess saliva from his clothes. "I appreciate you bringing me this far after already flying from the shore to the city."

"Cram it up your cloaca," Azora replies playfully in harpy-speak, making it clear that thanks aren't necessary.

"Woot! I'll be back up and flying in a bit. Just gotta catch my breath."

Despite everything happening around him, Atreus smiles.

Azora's friendliness is infectious.

Still, the circumstances are too dire for him to enjoy the moment fully.

His thoughts remain with those still in danger.

The thunder of approaching hooves interrupts their brief respite.

Both turn toward the sound emerging from the trees.

Artemis bursts from the darkness.

"EEP!" Azora yelps, her feathers bristling.

The cloaked centaur initially moves to pass them by.

Then she notices Atreus standing beside the harpy.

She slows.

"Well—another pleasant surprise," she coos.

Atreus meets her gaze.

To him, this second encounter seems too improbable to dismiss as coincidence.

Judging by Artemis's expression beneath her hood, she feels the same way.

"I didn't get an opportunity to say hello the first time we met," she says.

A puzzled look crosses Azora's face.

"You two have crossed paths before?"

"She's the one who attacked the lumberjacks," Atreus explains. "Helia and I tried to stop her escape."

"Wowie—this moldy-looking creature?" Azora asks in astonishment.

"You're not the harpy who was with him before," Artemis notes.

Her hand slowly drifts toward a leather pouch hanging from her waist.

"Are we taking turns with him? May I go next?"

Azora gulps.

The centaur stands nearly twice her height.

"I'm full, so I won't eat him now," Artemis explains. "I'll take him home and see whether he can entertain me. If not, then I'll eat—"

A furious cry cuts her off.

"I'LL ENTERTAIN YOU, SCUM SUCKER!"

Artemis immediately looks skyward.

Dirai descends from the darkness in a blur of beige feathers and light-brown hair, her razor-sharp talons aimed directly at the centaur's torso.

"Damn. Not now, then," Artemis mutters as she leaps aside.

Dirai's talons bury into the earth.

The harpy stands between Artemis and the others, wrath burning in her eyes.

Above them, Helia's familiar voice rings out.

"Dirai—calm down! Wait for backup!"

Dirai ignores her completely.

Her mind returns to that terrible moment.

The moment she saw the centaur.

The moment her heart sank.

The moment she lost Dominik.

Atreus finally spots his friend overhead.

"HELIA, OVER HERE!"

The white-feathered harpy turns her golden eyes toward him.

"Atreus?" she gasps. "What are you doing way out here, ya little gut spelunker?"

Azora waves enthusiastically.

"Woot! We were searching for you."

Helia lands carefully beside them and raises a foot to pick Atreus up.

"I went looking for you," she says. "Why weren't you at your apartment?"

Atreus sighs as Helia gently lifts him in her talons.

"It's a long story."

The sadness in his voice doesn't escape her notice.

Turning toward Azora, he remembers her promise.

"I know flying so much isn't easy for you, Azora, but I need you to go back to the city and check on the people trapped beneath that rubble."

Azora nods immediately.

"Woot! I'll get help! You can count on me!"

Though exhausted, the light-blue-feathered harpy does her best not to show it.

She takes off and heads back toward Torin.

Artemis watches the exchange with amusement.

"I've studied you Torinians for a long time," she says. "One thing that still eludes me is the appeal of having a human friend—much less a mate. However, I'm willing to try it."

She glances at Atreus again.

"I only need one to hold my interest long enough to overcome my natural inclination to eat them."

Her eyes linger on him.

"There must be a reason fate placed you in my path again."

Dirai finally loses patience with being ignored.

"ENOUGH!"

She beats her wings and launches forward.

"I WILL MAKE YOU PAY FOR TAKING DOMINIK FROM ME!"

Artemis smoothly pulls her bow over her head and draws an arrow.

"So be it," she says. "Take your revenge—if you can."

Meanwhile—

In the city square, in front of Ourana's Court, Enyo and two other centaurs prepare to make their last stand against the harpies and legionnaires surrounding them.

"It looks like we've got the queen's attention," the female centaur with long brown hair says to Enyo.

"It was fun while it lasted," the lone male centaur admits with a smirk, sporting a head full of silver hair like his twin sister.

Emerging from the enormous building decorated with reliefs and pillars, brilliant light in the shape of a harpy turns the night into day.

Maintaining her position in the air, Aello commands her legion to close their eyes.

The soldiers and harpies all hide their faces from the light, understanding the warning.

In an instant, the light becomes so bright that the centaurs cannot see their hands in front of their faces.

Plunged into the white void, the invading centaurs are struck down by crushing blows from the Harpy Matriarch, Ourana—mercifully spared her talons and "unquenchable fire."

When the bronze-skinned, white-feathered harpy dims her light and day becomes night once again, the three centaurs are found sprawled on the ground, reeling from the unseen attacks.

Aello descends upon Enyo and puts her weight on the fallen centaur's upper body, pinning her in her talons.

Two other harpies—Eos and Harriet—follow suit, each pinning one of the other centaurs down.

"We could have handled this on our own, you know," Aello complains to the queen.

"Oh, but I insist," Ourana disagrees softly but firmly. "This is personal."

Aello turns to their captives and looks the silver-haired predator over carefully.

Her eyes—with their violet-colored sclera and red irises—discover a peculiar adornment on each of the centaurs.

She notices that all three are wearing wooden amulets shaped like a hand with an open eye in the palm, with red feathers woven into the cords looped around their necks—she recognizes the feathers.

"I understand it now," the crimson-colored Demon Harpy says, glowering at the centaurs. "I've gotta admit—I never expected anyone to be able to use the curse magic in the feathers I drop to interfere with Priscilla's sight."

Her eyes narrow at Enyo.

"Artemis—your leader—she created those amulets, didn't she? I'm almost impressed with that dryad-bark-munching wretch."

Enyo's brother, Maris, laughs at Aello's questions.

"Is that so?" he replies instead of his sister. "You harpies fly around with your noses pointed upward, laying claim to our hunting grounds and daring anyone to retaliate. Has the mountain summit air made you Torinians so arrogant as to think you can't be touched?"

Harriet shakes her head of magenta hair lightly at the centaur, pressing her weight down on him a little more.

"Watch your mouth there, handsome," the light-brown-skinned harpy cautions him, balancing herself by spreading her magenta-colored wings. "I'd hate it if Aello commanded me to tear those pretty little lips off your face."

"This Artemis is quite clever, apparently—and bold," Ourana calmly observes, a crystal crown resting atop her long white hair. An aura of warm, soft light still emanates from her body.

"It's a shame she has chosen to become our enemy," she continues.

"You brought war to this island, Ourana," Enyo reminds her. "The sphinxes told us about your megalomaniacal ambitions on the other side of the Great Sea. Do you think you'll conquer this island as a consolation prize after your defeat?"

The bronze-skinned Matriarch sighs.

"I'm not her anymore," she confesses. "What I do now, I do only for the good of Torin. What you carried out tonight was nothing less than an act of aggression."

Enyo spits blood and laughs, laboring to breathe under Aello's weight.

"What sin will you condemn us for?"

"...Invading a human city? You did that first... remember?"

"...Is it eating humans? You did that too, didn't you?"

"Will you acknowledge your own guilt..."

"...or sit there judging us like a bunch of hypocrites?"

"...'For the good of Torin'? Like that erases your past..."

Enyo's words are followed by a moment of silence.

Ourana looks around at the harpies hovering above and the human legionnaires gathered below. She then turns her golden irises back to the centaur pinned beneath Aello.

"You are mistaken about one thing—you didn't invade a human city. You invaded my home."

The three captive centaurs are silent in response.

Azora's voice cries out from the sky above.

"HELP!" she calls, slowly descending in exhaustion.

She lands before Ourana and Aello, pointing with a wing toward the south.

"The centaur... Dirai needs help."

Aello turns to Ourana.

"Dirai went after Artemis—I'm going."

Ourana nods and replaces Aello atop Enyo to hold her down.

Aello takes off, ascending into the air with incredible speed.

Azora speaks to Ourana, informing her of the other situation and keeping her promise to Atreus.

"Matriarch, there may be humans trapped beneath collapsed buildings—they need help."

Ourana sighs.

"I'm afraid there are many such cases tonight," she replies compassionately.

She looks out past the harpies and legionnaires around her at the city, which bears the scars of the night's incursion.

"I will do better," she breathes.

She then raises her voice for all to hear.

"Six harpies will look after these centaurs. The rest of you will search for those in need of help. Go—now."

As the harpies and legionnaires follow the queen's orders, outside the city walls—in a clearing on the mountainside—Helia and Atreus try to figure out how to help Dirai.

Dirai, driven nearly mad by grief and rage, claws furiously at the cloaked centaur.

Artemis looses an arrow at her.

Dirai catches it in her talons, barely avoiding being struck.

Artemis snickers at the lucky catch.

She waves a hand and casts a spell. Her movements become blurred. Afterimages follow her motions, disorienting Dirai.

"What the hell are you doing, witch?" the harpy scowls.

Dirai resumes her assault, trying to get her deadly talons on the centaur. She's always one step behind, striking at illusions.

"This is fawn's play," Artemis laughs.

The green-haired centaur multiplies, becoming ten copies of herself and encircling the two harpies and the human boy, each copy drawing its bow and taking aim.

"Which one's the real one?" Helia asks in a panic.

"Try blinding them, Helia," Atreus instructs her.

"I-I can't," the white-feathered harpy cries. "I never get it right."

"I know you can," her human friend encourages her. "I believe in you."

"Don't—I'll only let you down," Helia says.

Dirai turns toward Helia as they hover above the images of Artemis, unsure which one might strike the fatal blow.

"If you have something that can help right now, you'd better do it," she demands.

Helia gulps nervously and concentrates.

"Close your eyes," she warns Dirai as her body begins to emanate light.

The light intensifies just as the centaurs fire their arrows.

A thud is heard amidst the brilliant light.

Dirai's voice cries out in pain.

Helia dims her light and looks to her left, seeing the other harpy falling to the ground with an arrow through her right wing.

"Dirai!"

Helia descends, landing on one foot beside her.

"Put me down, Helia," Atreus says, still being held in her other foot. "You can carry her to safety."

"Good idea," the cloaked copies of Artemis remark in unison, raising their bows to take another shot. "Put the human down and back away, or I'll finish her this time."

"Try blinding her again," Atreus tells Helia.

"Stop it, Atreus," Helia cries. "Stop trying!"

Artemis becomes impatient, knowing she's running out of time.

"Do as I said—quickly," the illusions demand, speaking at once.

Helia lowers the foot holding Atreus and hesitates to release him.

"No, Helia," Dirai pleads through the pain. "Don't let me be the cause of you losing your friend."

Artemis's illusions prepare to fire.

And then—

They halt, sensing a familiar magic in the air.

Helia and Dirai also recognize the magic and name its source together.

"Aello!"

As they speak her name, magical runes of red and black are etched into the ground beneath them.

Artemis exhales in frustration.

"I enjoyed the game for too long."

The runes violently dispel the centaur's illusions as Aello appears in the sky above them.

"If Ourana is the sun and Priscilla the moon, Aello must be the eclipse," Artemis muses.

She quickly readies an arrow and aims at Dirai, who lies wounded on the ground.

The Demon Harpy speaks incomprehensible words, cursing the bow with red and black runes.

The bow slips from Artemis's hand as she fires, and the arrow buries itself in the ground.

"Thought so," the centaur says.

She bows to her opponents, reaching a hand into the leather pouch at her waist.

"I'll leave the human with you for now, but if he and I cross paths a third time—"

The centaur retrieves a flute from her pouch and plays a tune upon it, stirring the wind.

The harpies shield themselves as a whirlwind is summoned, sweeping through the clearing and passing over Artemis.

"She who hunts and runs away, lives to hunt another day," the centaur's voice says as she vanishes into the whirlwind.

Meanwhile, at the Campus Taiyo Military Academy—

Leon and Kore wait in the garden in front of the academy, watching for someone to return.

Rhea approaches from the west, walking along the grassy outer edge of the city near the Great Inner Wall.

"There she is," Leon says, tapping Kore on the shoulder to get her attention.

The two run to meet the girl and immediately notice her distant stare.

"Are you okay?" Leon asks. "Where did you go?"

"I..." Rhea begins, hesitating to answer. "I just went for a jog."

Kore fiddles with her curly brown hair as her body trembles lightly.

Rhea can see that the girl is still frightened by the earlier events.

"Is everyone else safe?" she asks.

"We sheltered inside the building when the horns sounded," Kore replies. "We could see the centaurs in the Temple District."

"Where's Maximus?" Leon asks Rhea.

"How should I know?" the girl responds, still wearing her birthday laurel wreath.

"He went looking for you after you left," Leon informs her.

"What? Why would he do something like that?" Rhea asks, shaken by the news.

Leon and Kore exchange a glance before turning back to her.

"...Isn't it obvious?" Kore asks.

Rhea's light-green eyes begin to fill with tears, and she hides her face.

"Because of me? How foolish. Why do humans do stupid things?"

Kore reaches out to touch Rhea but hesitates.

She looks to Leon, who nods in understanding.

The night passes quietly.

The next day is spent assessing the damage caused by the centaurs and searching for survivors.

Two days later—

Citizens gather on the steps of Ourana's Court, demanding the death penalty for the centaurs being held captive until their fates are decided.

Inside the court, senators debate passionately in the presence of Ourana, who sits in a hollow built so that the senators may approach her at waist level. The ceiling above the Queen's head is open, allowing sunlight to pour in. The natural light reflects from the giant harpy's white hair and feathers, filling the chamber so completely that the braziers burning throughout are unnecessary.

The senators inform the Queen and Harpy Matriarch of the weight of her decision, though she is already well aware.

"We could end up with another revolt on our hands if we're not careful," Senator Cornelius Torin says. "Many people—harpies included—have expressed a desire to spare the invaders this one time, as they were 'only doing what comes naturally to them as predators.'"

Senator Pontius rises and raises his voice above the others.

"My son Maximus is missing—likely dead," he shouts. "I believe I speak for all reasonable Torinian citizens when I say that these centaurs deserve the death penalty. And yes, even some of the harpies have personally asked me to push for that sentence."

"What will you decide, Your Highness?" Senator Cornelius asks, aware of the literal implications of that title.

Ourana sits in quiet contemplation, feeling the weight of the shimmering crystal tiara resting upon her head.

That evening, a memorial service is held outside the Hall of Elysia for all the citizens lost in the attack.

The enormous temple is filled with monuments to legionnaires who fell defending Torin City. Flickering braziers illuminate the ceremony as a priest of Soma, the supreme Torinian deity, presides over it.

Atreus pays his respects alone. With so many people in the Temple District, it would be dangerous for a giant harpy like Helia to join him. He will meet her afterward.

For now, he prays for the souls that passed on, standing near a monument to Alethea Epidaurus.

Bia stands gathered with her father, mother, and four brothers. She weeps, yet counts herself blessed to still have her beloved family. The attack renews her conviction to become an Elite Legionnaire and protect them.

Rhea and her mother, Vestia, attend as well, joined by Leon and his parents. Her mother makes quite a show of mourning, wailing for the dead and unaccounted for, but Rhea cries silently and hides her tears.

"Stupid Maximus," she sighs.

After the ceremony, Atreus remains in the Temple District as the crowd gradually thins and people return home.

He sits at the base of the statue of Alethea, which depicts the young girl kneeling over a wounded legionnaire.

He spots Bia among the departing crowd, surrounded by her family. She waves shyly at him, and he raises a hand in return.

One of her brothers nudges her toward Atreus, but she hides her face until her family is swallowed by the flow of people.

The sun has set.

Business in the district returns to normal.

Atreus remains after the crowd has gone, staring up at the sky. He's looking for a particular star. Though the stars seem to change often, this one always appears when he needs it.

It isn't there tonight.

But Helia's shadow falls across the stone, much to Atreus's relief.

The giant harpy alights carefully on the ground before him.

"What took you so long? Is that big butt slowing you down?" he asks.

"Shut up before I scarf ya," Helia laughs as she kneels and lowers herself to the ground.

Atreus climbs onto her shoulder, holding tightly to her plumage.

"We harpies had a gathering of our own tonight on the east side of the mountain," Helia informs him as she rises.

"Dirai is still there, right?" Atreus asks.

"Yeah—and she knows you're coming," Helia answers.

The giant harpy beats her wings, takes flight, and heads east beyond the Great Walls.

On the mountainside, a beige-feathered harpy sits. Her light-brown hair drapes over half of her face as she stares longingly out over the island below. On this side of the mountain, she can see the shore where the sea stretches across the horizon.

"Dirai," Helia calls. "We're here!"

Dirai looks up to see the white-feathered harpy descending. She smiles at her and her human friend.

"Just when I thought I couldn't get any more miserable, here you two come," she says playfully.

"How is your wing?" Atreus asks. "Did you see the healers in the city for it?"

"No—I don't mind the pain," Dirai answers. "Besides, it's not what hurts the most."

Atreus and Helia sit quietly with the harpy.

Dirai sighs and smiles again.

"Keep practicing that light magic—fire magic—or whatever it is, Helia," she says. “You must protect Atreus.”

"I know... but it feels like I'm just not meant to do it," Helia replies, discouraged. "Every time I try, I see my mom's disappointed face flash before my eyes."

"Helia, stop comparing yourself to your mother," Dirai says. "And stop worrying about gaining her approval. Just be yourself."

"Thank you, Dirai," Helia says.

"I know you'll get it eventually," Atreus adds. "I still believe in you—and so do the Watchers."

Helia's face brightens as happiness washes over her.

"You're not just saying that, Atreus?" she asks, looking at her tiny friend sitting on her shoulder between her and Dirai. "You really, really mean it?"

Atreus gently pats her cheek.

"With all my heart, Helia."

The harpy squeals with glee.

"I'll bet the Watchers are happy to hear you say that too!"

Atreus nods.

"I hope they are."

He then turns to Dirai on his other side.

"Dirai," he says, "love will make people do things they never expected—maybe even things they shouldn't do."

Dirai laughs softly.

"Let me guess—you're going to tell me not to pursue vengeance any longer."

Atreus shakes his head.

"No. I'm sure vengeance has its place," he says. "And honestly, I don't know what's right. I only want you to think about what Dominik would want for you. I could be wrong, but I don't think he would want you to go on being consumed by anger and hatred."

Dirai closes her eyes, taking in Atreus's words. Tears roll down her face.

The boy continues, gently offering what help he can.

"If I can, I want to help you release that pain so that you can genuinely smile and find joy again."

"What can you possibly do?" Dirai asks.

"The only thing I know how to do," he answers.

Still sitting on Helia's shoulder between the two harpies, Atreus turns his gaze upward toward the sky.

He finally sees it—that bright, shining star that always seems to appear when he needs it.

He begins to sing.

Dirai listens.

Like warm hands, the boy's voice touches her heart.

The wounds inflicted upon it are gently tended.

She smiles in spite of her tears.

Atreus continues, singing from his own heart and manifesting a power that can be felt but never fully comprehended.

High above all mountains

There is a fountain

A spring, my soul mending

With hope never ending

To love without ask has a cost

But trust that such love will not be lost

The seed you plant will take root

And in due season shall bear its fruit

Love in spite of the pain

As a flower waits for the rain

Is it possible to pull a star down

To shine light on the ground?

Or to fly so high

That you join it in the sky?

You could leave everything behind

Put it all out of mind

But perhaps there's a way—

Be a light where you stay

Among those who see you,

And touch those you need to

To the Watchers far away and my friends who are here,

I send you my love—thank you for being near.

The End.

(MAIN STORY PAGE)

Hello Watchers—thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this story, please leave a comment below letting me know!