TORIN YOUTH - CHAPTER 01: THE TRAITOR

PROLOGUE:

Over Crystal Island, smoke plumes rise above a shattered forest battlefield as gigantic silhouettes clash in the sky. In a war that has raged for over a century, the humans of Torin City, joined by giant harpies, clash with giant, winged feline-human hybrids called sphinxes.

An armored harpy dives, her breastplate and helm crafted by her human allies. A Torinian archer is mounted on her helm, held securely in place by cords. He carefully aims through the wind rushing past him and looses elemental arrows as they swoop toward a sphinx. From underneath her shining helm, the furious avian giantess directs her sharp talons toward her enemy.

The harpy examines the sphinx, sizing up her muscular, humanlike body, save for the fur covering sections of it, the wings on her back, and the feline ears and tail. Though the sphinx lacks armor of her own and wears only an animal-skin loincloth, she matches the harpy’s ferocity and retaliates, tearing her foe from the air with her deadly claws. Their colossal bodies snap trees as they fall—lofty trees which can tower even over giants in this world.

The sphinxes do not fight alone in this battle; they are joined by their own small allies, the elves of the Atomata valley. The elves deploy living constructs in the shapes and sizes of many creatures—marvels of magic and mechanical engineering. They are no match for the might of the Torinians, however.

The Torinian humans meet them on the ground, armed with weapons charged with elemental magic. Perhaps most notable are the ballistae—enormous crystal rods manned by up to four legionnaires, capable of unleashing devastating fire, wind, or lightning strikes upon a target. It is a power respected even by giants 15 to 20 times larger than humans.

As the elven weapons exchange fire across the battlefield with the advancing Torinians, a Torinian Legate studies a marked map inside his command tent, tracking his legion’s progress into elven territory.

“This is it,” he says to his fellow legionnaires with certainty on his face. “We have the upper hand over the enemy. If we win here, we break their hold on the Valley of Atomata—and with it, their backbone. Give everything you have.”

As he is left alone in the tent, Legate Taiyo knows that victory is certain, and yet he is plagued by an unsettling gut feeling.

“Why?” he asks himself. “We have the enemy on the run. So, why do I feel fear?”

The Legate thinks about his daughter. He remembers the night he left home—when he tucked the six-year-old girl with long, strawberry-blond hair into her bed and made a promise to return.

“The sooner we take this valley, the sooner we can go home,” he sighs, longing to see her again. “Then I can keep my promise to her and finish the story.”

A centurion bursts into the tent with urgency etched on his face, jarring the Legate out of his daydream.

“Legate Taiyo—the Scarlet Vixen has been sighted! She could strike at any moment.”

The certainty that shone on the Legate’s face before those under his command melts away in an instant. He pounds his fist against the table in rage.

“Gods damn it! That she-devil couldn’t have picked a worse time. Get the ballistae trained on her now. Kill her before she kills us!”

As Taiyo storms out of his tent, a female soldier with long, curly auburn hair braided into a ponytail is concealed under a cloak outside, listening intently. Her hazel eyes peer into the forest, spotting the chaos inflicted by a gigantic fox-human hybrid woman.

“I was right—she’s here. It’s now or never,” she says quietly before slipping away toward the Vixen.

Deeper into the forest, the Scarlet Vixen towers over the battlefield, staring down at the soldiers with one yellow eye and one silver eye. Long, scarlet hair flows from her head, draping over her right shoulder. Standing over 30 meters—or 99 feet—tall, she moves gracefully on her hands and feet, her three tails swaying independently behind her.

On the Vixen’s forehead, a mark resembling an open eye glows as she flexes her psionic power. The giantess unleashes a telekinetic shockwave, snapping trees and hurling both the soldiers and their weapons aside like leaves blowing in the wind.

The disruption doesn’t go unnoticed by the sphinxes, who are finally able to reclaim territory as the Torinian forces weaken.

“The Vixen is on the battlefield,” the maned leader calls out to his forces.

A subordinate prepares to switch targets, her feline eyes flickering with uncertainty.

“Should we attack her?” she asks.

“No. She is not our enemy this time,” the sphinx leader answers. “Press forward while the bird people scatter under her assault.”

With Torinian lines collapsing under the surprise attack from the scarlet-haired giantess, the sphinxes advance and flank their enemies.

High above, the giant blood-red harpy Aello spots the sphinxes exploiting the chaos. With her red skin and feathers, dark violet sclerae and red irises, and two horns pointing forward from the sides of her head, her appearance has led to her being dubbed “Aello the Demon” by the Torinian people.

“Damn them!”

She dives, striking at the sphinxes in a desperate attempt to halt their advance.

“Sphinxes incoming! Cover your rear!”

As the General and highest-ranking member of Torin’s Legion, the legionnaires and other harpies follow her lead. However, the momentary distraction is fatal. Sphinxes surge past Aello and crash into the Torinian ranks.

Legate Taiyo watches his forces unravel. Defeat now seems inevitable. Desperation fills his heart.

“We were so close! This damned she-devil is ruining everything,” he says, throwing down his helm in frustration.

The giant sphinxes keep a cautious eye on the Vixen as they defeat the backline of the Torinians and their harpy allies, never certain how long the fox-eared giantess’s restraint toward them will last.

“This is a disaster,” Taiyo shouts angrily. “All ballistae—focus fire on the Scarlet Vixen! We cannot lose more men!”

Centurions shout orders and, despite the collapsing defenses, ballista crews pivot and take aim at the Scarlet Vixen.

A soldier cries out amid the chaos, “There’s someone with her! She—she’s got a hostage!”

Taiyo stiffens and looks closer, peering through the smoke.

As the dust settles, a female soldier standing directly before the Vixen removes her helmet. Her long, braided ponytail of auburn hair hangs over her shoulder, and her hazel eyes stare at the Torinian forces defiantly from underneath her curly fringes.

She casts off her cloak to reveal her own legionnaire armor beneath.

The Vixen gazes down at the woman below her, appearing calmed by her presence.

Legate Taiyo is horrified by the realization that hits him.

“No… it can’t be!”

He slams one foot forward and bellows across the battlefield, “CADMEIA—YOU TRAITOR!”

“FIRE! Kill the Vixen—and the traitor,” he commands, desperate to eliminate the Vixen.

Ballistae thunder and elemental bolts slam into the Scarlet Vixen, who steadies herself amid the barrage. Her telekinetic powers can save her from the worst of the blasts, but not all of it.

As the smoke dissipates, she looks down. Sorrow spreads across her face at what she sees.

Cadmeia’s body lies still on the forest floor between her hands.

Rage ignites—the Scarlet Vixen lifts her gaze and fixes on Legate Taiyo in the distance.

Across the battlefield, Taiyo sees that the scarlet-haired giantess yet lives. Panic grips him.

“Reload! Fire again!” he shouts urgently.

The Vixen charges.

Four soldiers scramble to ready a ballista as she rapidly closes in—

—but the Vixen crashes into it, shattering the frame under the weight of her hand and flinging the crew aside.

Taiyo is thrown to the ground as she lands nearby, blinded momentarily by surging wind and dirt.

The colossal fox narrows her eyes at the terrified Legate.

Taiyo barely raises his sword before a massive clawed hand slams down onto him.

He is lifted, dangling helplessly as the Vixen brings him before her face, and given only a single heartbeat to behold the fury burning in her eyes.

Her jaws part.

Legate Taiyo peers into the giantess’s gaping mouth, past her tongue and into the abyss beyond it, realizing that his greatest fear is about to come true.

“N-NO! DON’T—”

Nearby soldiers flee as their commander’s screams are muffled when the towering giantess seals him behind her lips.

As the last sliver of daylight is shut off and darkness engulfs him inside the Vixen’s mouth, Taiyo’s outstretched hand vanishes down her throat.

…

Twelve years later—after the disastrous battle in the Valley of Atomata, where the Torinians suffered devastating losses of life and territory due in no small part to the interference of the Scarlet Vixen—Torin City, ‘the light on the hill,’ still stands strong at the summit of Mount Litocoro.

In a world seemingly made for gigantic, man-eating creatures—where humans are little more than meals to those same beings—the city of Torin, where humans and giant harpies live in relative peace and harmony, offers humanity a safe haven.

Protected by two great walls that surround the city, by soldiers manning powerful energy-based weapons, and by giant harpies on constant patrol, Torin is as good a place to live as any human can hope for.

Recent generations of humans and harpies growing up together have forged bonds between them that appear unbreakable, boding well for the future of the city.

To some humans, however, Torin is not a safe haven…

…it is a prison, overseen by harpies who could feast upon the city’s inhabitants if they so desired. To such people, freedom can never be experienced as long as being human means being prey.

As fate would have it, all creatures—human and giant—must accept their destinies in the world they were born into.

For some, that is far easier said than done.

THE PATH TO REDEMPTION

A man thrusts his fist into the air, leading a cheer through the crowded cobblestone streets of Torin City.

“Let’s hear it for Atreus Speros—hero of Torin!”

In the Temple District, surrounded by great marble monuments to heroes of the past, an eighteen-year-old young man with spiky auburn hair is hoisted onto the shoulders of two supporters as a throng of citizens in tunics and togas cheer, tossing flowers into the air.

“HOORAY! She got her licks in, but Atreus slayed the Vixen!”

As the crowd chants, Atreus proudly pantomimes firing an arrow from his bow against a gigantic threat. The people continue singing the praises of the handsome, armor-clad hero.

“With a mighty lightning bolt from his bow, he laid the villainous Vixen low!”

A beautiful maiden with strawberry-blonde hair and a large pink ribbon tied in the back, flowing down to her hips, pushes through the crowd, eager to reach him.

Atreus lays eyes on the girl—she looks like a radiant goddess in her white thigh-length tunic trimmed in gold, with a gold sash about her waist and golden sandals laced almost up to her knees. His heart nearly stops as she calls his name.

“Atreus,” she says with the voice of an angel.

The men lower Atreus to the ground, and the girl immediately throws her arms around him. The boy, standing nearly 183 centimeters—or 6 feet—tall, embraces the girl, who is shorter than him by only two inches. Her costly strawberry-scented perfume sends his mind far away from the troubles of this world, to a place where he is safe, free, and happy.

They pull away, just far enough to meet each other’s gazes.

Atreus reaches toward the girl’s face and gently sweeps aside her hair, styled in curtain fringes, to behold her light-green eyes.

“Rhea—” he whispers.

The girl peers deeply into Atreus’s hazel eyes, smiling warmly, and interrupts him with a kiss.

Atreus pulls Rhea closer as they kiss, and the surrounding crowd erupts into celebration.

But then he pauses. Something feels off. Atreus opens his eyes and pulls away, finding his mouth filled with straw.

He recoils, spitting it out in disgust. “Peh—peh!”

In horror, he watches as Rhea’s head transforms into a sack stuffed with straw.

“What’s happening?” he asks in panic.

Atreus jolts upright in his room on the top floor of his insula, sitting on his bed mat in his sleepwear. It’s quiet. Lonely. As usual.

Looking down at what he clenches in his arms, he realizes that he’s been kissing his straw-filled pillow in his sleep. He shakes his head, repulsed and embarrassed by the thought of it, and puts his pillow back in its proper place on his mat. It really was a nice dream while it lasted, but now it’s back to reality.

Yawning, he glances out the window beside his bed at the dark, early-morning sky.

“It looks like I’m waking up early today,” he sighs heavily as he stands and stretches. “At least I’ll have plenty of time to get to the academy, and I won’t have to rush.”

Atreus prepares for the day, gathering his things for the academy into his leather backpack. After picking up some bread and an apple on his way to the door, he passes by his father lying on a floor mat with empty bottles of wine spread around him. The black-haired man’s back is toward Atreus as he faces the wall, but the boy knows that he is awake.

“You couldn’t sleep again, could you, Father?” Atreus asks him.

He continues toward the door and stops short of opening it, looking back at his father with sadness weighing on him.

“I know how you feel about me trying to become a Legionnaire Specialis, but I need your trust. If there’s hope to redeem our family, becoming part of the elite forces and killing that Scarlet Vixen is the only path forward. I just need you to trust me.”

His father sighs quietly, hopelessness making his eyes heavy.

The young man leaves the apartment and closes the door behind him.

From the window in the hallway overlooking the central courtyard, Atreus climbs up to the roof. Up there, he observes the stars, paying particular attention to one shining brightly.

As is his daily routine, Atreus sits and begins singing softly.

“Why do you rage and make peace with none?” asked the fox of the bird. “Has not your freedom at last been won?”

“I will indeed fly free and count it done,” the bird replied, “but only after I’ve devoured the sun.”

“But you’ll take away my light and leave me in darkness,” the fox cried bitterly.

“The sun did scorch me and burn away my tears,” said the bird, “but none did pity me.”

The fox saw that the bird’s flame was as fierce as her ire.

“It is I,” continued the bird, “who was first consumed by its fire.”

“Consumed by the fire.”

“Consumed by the fire.”

“It is I who was consumed by the fire.”

Meanwhile, Rhea Taiyo jogs on the cobblestone street below. Here in the Lower District, which is at the outer edge of the residential areas, the street becomes one-sided. On one side, there are apartment buildings. On the other, a grassy field of brush and trees stretches toward the Great Inner Wall.

Nearing Atreus’s insula, she is stopped by the sound coming from many stories above. She can just barely hear the boy’s voice as he sings to himself.

Atreus is lost in his song, blissfully unaware that Rhea is listening.

At the same time, a giant bronze-skinned harpy with white hair and feathers flies in his direction. Spotting the boy on the rooftop, she descends from the sky, grinning mischievously.

The harpy drops down, slowing her descent just enough to touch the ground softly.

“Good mornin’, Atreus!” she says, landing suddenly before him.

“AH—” Atreus yelps and jumps in surprise, causing him to slip and slide straight toward the edge of the rooftop. The harpy crouches and parts her lips to receive him, all the while giggling at his panicked reaction.

Somehow, the boy manages to plant his sandaled feet against the bronze-skinned harpy’s lower lip and keep from tumbling into her waiting mouth. He then pushes off and scoots away from the edge.

Residents within the building begin to stir, awakened from their sleep by the sudden noise and the harpy’s raspy voice.

“Are you two crazy? People are still trying to sleep,” a man yells from a window in the neighboring building.

The harpy smiles shamefacedly at the man, acknowledging his complaint.

With the giantess’s arrival, Rhea ducks behind the corner of the building. She briefly considers leaving before deciding to stay and listen, her curiosity getting the better of her.

The playful harpy winks and smiles at the boy on the roof, lowering her volume after the complaint.

“Almost got ya,” she whispers.

At 32 meters—or 107 feet—in height, the harpy looks down on the insula rooftop even as she settles on her knees in the cobblestone street, her bird-like feet reaching out into the field before the Inner Great Wall. Like many other harpies who frequently interact with humans there, the harpy wears a cloth skillfully crafted by the citizens to cover her breasts. A violet hairband sits atop her shoulder-length white hair.

Atreus pleads with the harpy in frustration, “Cut it out, Helia! I don’t want to show up at the academy smelling like I’ve been inside a harpy again!”

The boy’s words unsettle Rhea. Her tongue juts out of her mouth in disgust as she pictures it in her mind.

“Ick, Atreus…” she sighs in a hushed tone with a note of disdain.

Atreus, meanwhile, lifts his head to meet the gigantic predator’s gaze. The harpy’s eyes, with their golden irises, soften as they rest on the tiny human. She easily fills his field of view and makes him feel incredibly tiny in comparison, almost insignificant.

Thankfully, she’s his best friend.

“Oh right—it’s a big day for you,” Helia remembers. “You must be pretty nervous. That’d explain why you’re up so early.”

“It’s a ginormous day,” Atreus says, pulling his knees close to his chest. “The teams for our final trial to become elite legionnaires are being decided. This is my chance to turn my life around, so no eating me.”

“Okay. Okay. I got ya,” Helia sighs, pouting.

She takes a deep breath and exhales, quieting her predatory instincts.

“Hey, what was that song you were singing, by the way?” she asks as the thought suddenly pops into her mind.

Atreus briefly contemplates how to answer the harpy’s question, seeming uncertain about it.

“It’s based on a song that I heard as a child,” he says. “I wrote my own version yesterday… after a dream I had.”

“It doesn’t seem like it was a very good dream,” Helia remarks. “And you know how I feel about dreams; we should always pay attention to them.”

As the meaning of the song settles in, Helia feels a pang of sympathy for the boy.

“The bird in your song sounded really angry. Was that you?” she asks. “I understand that you need to slay the Scarlet Vixen… to fix what your mom did.”

Atreus turns his head toward the east as the first light of the sun appears over the city. He answers pensively, “I don’t know where I fit in.”

Helia lowers her head, softly resting her chin on the roof and giving the boy a comforting smile as he shares his feelings with her.

“I’ll tell you where you fit in, Atreus Speros,” she says to him. “You’re my friend. And you’re the best friend a harpy like me could ask for. Ya got that?”

Atreus smiles.

“Yeah… loud and clear, you overgrown pigeon. Thanks.”

Still listening to the conversation from around the corner of the building on the ground, Rhea sighs and turns to leave, continuing down the street away from Atreus’s insula.

With his conversation with Helia delaying him longer than expected, Atreus tells his friend that he must go.

“As much as I’d love to stay here looking at your big head, it’s about time I got moving,” he says, carefully standing up on the slanted roof of the insula.

“I can fly you to the military academy,” Helia offers, raising her head and smiling widely. “It’ll be way faster.”

The boy shakes his head in refusal. “Walking would be better. It will help ease my nerves.”

Disappointed, the harpy sighs and absentmindedly drops her chin on the rooftop, unintentionally shaking it and causing Atreus’s footing to slip.

“Waa!” the boy yells as he tumbles toward the edge.

Helia gasps and does the first thing that comes to her mind in an emergency such as this—she opens her mouth and extends her tongue beneath the falling boy.

“Don’t worry, I’ll catch ya!” the harpy exclaims.

Atreus grimaces, staring straight down the gigantic predator’s throat.

“HELIA, NO!”

Later that morning—

After his encounter with Helia on the rooftop of his insula, Atreus enters the local bathhouse in the Lower District carrying a change of clothes in his leather backpack. The smell clinging to him leaves little doubt about where the young man has recently been. Bathhouse patrons pinch their noses as he walks past, giving him a wide berth as they recognize him as the “traitor’s son.”

Ignoring the muttering he hears behind his back, he disrobes and sets his current clothing on a stone bench where he sits to wash beside the pool of hot spring water. Through the large, rectangular opening in the ceiling over the pool, Atreus has a view of the sky above and the stars that are fading with the light of the rising sun. With the teams being decided today, he reflects on how surreal it feels.

“I can’t believe I’ve made it this far,” he thinks to himself. “I remember how scared I was entering the class for elite Legionnaire candidates—I was certain that I didn’t belong there, as much as I wanted to be.”

The memory drags him back four years, when he was fourteen years old, at the military academy at Campus Taiyo.

In a classroom with several wooden rows of seats, Atreus sits in the middle section alone. Most of the other students appear to be making it clear that they want nothing to do with him.

Only a brown-skinned girl with windswept black hair sits somewhat nearby to his right. Her violet irises remain fixed on him—not with suspicion, but with curiosity... and perhaps something warmer. It is a look the boy is unaccustomed to—and one he has yet to notice from her.

The last student enters through the door on the right side of the room, bringing the class size to twenty-four. As Atreus nervously fidgets in his seat, something small strikes the back of his head and bounces off his tunic.

He looks down and finds a grape rolling across the floor.

Atreus turns, hoping that he’ll find out that he wasn’t targeted. A curly-haired brunette girl with freckles sits a few rows back, lounging in her seat and smiling condescendingly as she plucks another grape to eat from a cluster in her hand. That’s all the confirmation Atreus needs—the girl definitely intended to hit him.

He picks up the grape and flicks it back at her, hitting her square between the eyes. The grape bursts on impact.

The curly-haired girl’s face flushes beet red with anger, splattered with grape.

Atreus smirks at her, satisfied that he’s made his point.

“Atreus,” the instructor calls. “A young man already on a slippery slope would do well to tread carefully.”

The warning is stern—but unlike so many others in Atreus’s life, the instructor doesn’t seem to be holding the boy’s parentage against him.

Atreus winces, acknowledging the truth of it.

Gasps, laughter, and whispers ripple through the classroom, forcing the instructor to raise his voice for silence. The man is powerfully built and conspicuously not dressed in the traditional teacher’s tunic, but in legionnaire attire. He stands in the center of the floor, before the rows of seats, with a ceramic pot of water at his feet, and introduces himself.

“Welcome to your orientation,” he says. “I am Titus Maedi, and I’ll be your primary instructor for the next four years. You’ve all been selected for this special training because you’ve shown great magical potential—potential that could make you Legionnaire Specialis, members of our elite-level special forces.”

As Titus speaks, Atreus’s attention drifts to the far left end of the front row, near the window.

A beautiful, strawberry-blonde girl sits there with a bow adorning the back of her hair.

“Oh gods... it’s her,” he thinks, momentarily forgetting where he is. “Rhea Taiyo. The Golden Child of Torin City.”

The realization settles heavily in his chest.

“I can’t believe we’re in the same class.”

While Atreus is distracted by Rhea’s presence, Titus continues, holding up a crystal in his right hand that is the size of his thumb for the class to see.

“You all know what this material is, right?” he asks. “It’s a Caeli Crystal shard. This material is found in abundance here on this island, in many shapes and sizes—even rivaling the giants in height. It’s because of the abundance of crystals that this place we call home is known as Crystal Island.”

He watches his students’ faces to ensure that they are paying close attention.

He continues, “It’s said that the crystal formations on this island are created when the heavens touch the ground beneath. Perhaps that is a reference to the lightning that falls during storms. We can only speculate on what causes the crystals to form. What we do know for sure is that this material is the best conductor of energy we’ve ever seen.”

Titus closes his hand on the shard, and his hand begins to glow with a soft blue light. The water within the pot at his feet rises up like a snake being charmed and begins to follow the motions of his open hand.

“That means, to varying degrees, this material allows us Torinians to manifest our innate magical powers,” he explains. “Becoming elite Legionnaires means you have demonstrated extraordinary magical prowess and have overcome all the challenges that this training has to offer. And I’ll be transparent with you: should you all choose to take the final test, some of you will not live to return from it.”

Titus’s grim warning appears to shake many of the students in the room. He watches as their smiles falter. However, a handful of students appear optimistic and excited for the challenges ahead.

The brown-skinned girl with windswept black hair grins widely and clenches her fists as if she can’t wait to start combat training.

One of the students who appears to be dreading it is a tall blond-haired boy with broad shoulders. He looks to his immediate left at Rhea with uncertainty etched on his face.

Rhea Taiyo doesn’t appear to be concerned at all. She looks calm, determined, and confident.

Atreus, however, is now more nervous than he’s ever been. Yet he knows that this is the only path forward if he hopes to lift the shame from his family name.

Later that morning—

After his encounter with Helia on the rooftop of his insula, Atreus enters the local bathhouse in the Lower District carrying a change of clothes in his leather backpack. The smell clinging to him leaves little doubt about where the young man has recently been. Bathhouse patrons pinch their noses as he walks past, giving him a wide berth as they recognize him as the “traitor’s son.”

Ignoring the muttering he hears behind his back, he disrobes and sets his current clothing on a stone bench where he sits to wash beside the pool of hot spring water. Through the large, rectangular opening in the ceiling over the pool, Atreus has a view of the sky above and the stars that are fading with the light of the rising sun. With the teams being decided today, he reflects on how surreal it feels.

“I can’t believe I’ve made it this far,” he thinks to himself. “I remember how scared I was entering the class for elite Legionnaire candidates—I was certain that I didn’t belong there, as much as I wanted to be.”

The memory drags him back four years, when he was fourteen years old, at the military academy at Campus Taiyo.

In a classroom with several wooden rows of seats, Atreus sits in the middle section alone. Most of the other students appear to be making it clear that they want nothing to do with him.

Only a brown-skinned girl with windswept black hair sits somewhat nearby to his right. Her violet irises remain fixed on him—not with suspicion, but with curiosity... and perhaps something warmer. It is a look the boy is unaccustomed to, and one he hasn’t noticed from her just yet.

The last student enters through the door on the right side of the room, bringing the class size to twenty-four. As Atreus nervously fidgets in his seat, something small strikes the back of his head and bounces off his tunic.

He looks down and finds a grape rolling across the floor.

Atreus turns, hoping that he’ll find out that he wasn’t targeted. A curly-haired brunette girl with freckles sits a few rows back, lounging in her seat and smiling condescendingly as she plucks another grape to eat from a cluster in her hand. That’s all the confirmation Atreus needs—the girl definitely intended to hit him.

He picks up the grape and flicks it back at her, hitting her square between the eyes. The grape bursts on impact.

The curly-haired girl’s face flushes beet red with anger, splattered with grape.

Atreus smirks at her, satisfied that he’s made his point.

“Atreus,” the instructor calls. “A young man already on a slippery slope would do well to tread carefully.”

The warning is stern—but unlike so many others in Atreus’s life, the instructor doesn’t seem to be holding the boy’s parentage against him.

Atreus winces, acknowledging the truth of it.

Gasps, laughter, and whispers ripple through the classroom, forcing the instructor to raise his voice for silence. The man is powerfully built and conspicuously not dressed in the traditional teacher’s tunic, but in legionnaire attire. He stands in the center of the floor, before the rows of seats, with a ceramic pot of water at his feet, and introduces himself.

“Welcome to your orientation,” he says. “I am Titus Maedi, and I’ll be your primary instructor for the next four years. You’ve all been selected for this special training because you’ve shown great magical potential—potential that could make you Legionnaire Specialis, members of our elite-level special forces.”

As Titus speaks, Atreus’s attention drifts to the far left end of the front row, near the window.

A beautiful, strawberry-blonde girl sits there with a bow adorning the back of her hair.

“Oh gods... it’s her,” he thinks, momentarily forgetting where he is. “Rhea Taiyo. The Golden Child of Torin City.”

The realization settles heavily in his chest.

“I can’t believe we’re in the same class.”

While Atreus is distracted by Rhea’s presence, Titus continues, holding up a crystal in his right hand that is the size of his thumb for the class to see.

“You all know what this material is, right?” he asks. “It’s a Caeli Crystal shard. This material is found in abundance here on this island, in many shapes and sizes—even rivaling the giants in height. It’s because of the abundance of crystals that this place we call home is known as Crystal Island.”

He watches his students’ faces to ensure that they are paying close attention.

He continues, “It’s said that the crystal formations on this island are created when the heavens touch the ground beneath. Perhaps that is a reference to the lightning that falls during storms. We can only speculate on what causes the crystals to form. What we do know for sure is that this material is the best conductor of energy we’ve ever seen.”

Titus closes his hand on the shard, and his hand begins to glow with a soft blue light. The water within the pot at his feet rises up like a snake being charmed and begins to follow the motions of his open hand.

“That means, to varying degrees, this material allows us Torinians to manifest our innate magical powers,” he explains. “Becoming elite Legionnaires means you have demonstrated extraordinary magical prowess and have overcome all the challenges that this training has to offer. And I’ll be transparent with you: should you all choose to take the final test, some of you will not live to return from it.”

Titus’s grim warning appears to shake many of the students in the room. He watches as their smiles falter. However, a handful of students appear optimistic and excited for the challenges ahead.

The brown-skinned girl with windswept black hair grins widely and clenches her fists as if she can’t wait to start combat training.

One of the students who appears to be dreading it is a tall blond-haired boy with broad shoulders. He looks to his immediate left at Rhea with uncertainty etched on his face.

Rhea Taiyo doesn’t appear to be concerned at all. She looks calm, determined, and confident.

Atreus, however, is now more nervous than he’s ever been. Yet he knows that this is the only path forward if he hopes to lift the shame from his family name.

Later that day—

In the spacious central courtyard, enclosed on all four sides by the academy's four wings, instructor Titus has his students seated around a large circular sandpit. He further elaborates on the power within them.

“This innate magic we possess is called psiki. And there are ways we can use it without Caeli Crystals. A master of his or her psiki can multiply their strength and speed many times over. It’s not enough for you to learn how to use a weapon; you must become a weapon. Let's start with a little grappling exercise. Before you can learn to wield fire and lightning to take on giants twelve times your size, you’ve got to learn to beat someone your own size.”

Titus looks around at his students. “I need two volunteers.”

Before the words are fully out of his mouth, the brown-skinned girl with windswept hair eagerly springs to her feet and raises a hand.

“ME! PICK ME!” she pleads.

Titus smirks and accepts her as the first volunteer. “Alright then. Step into the center of the ring with me.”

The girl skips through the sand to the center, grinning ear to ear.

“Tell the class about yourself, young lady,” Titus says to her.

“The name’s Bia Yawa,” she proudly exclaims. “I’ve got four older brothers, and I’m here to prove that I’m tougher than all of them by passin’ that final test!”

She smiles sweetly at her classmates and adds, “Oh, and I wanna knock the teeth out of any giant’s mouth if they threaten to eat my family!”

Titus chuckles at the spirited girl.

“I need another volunteer,” the instructor says.

Bia doesn’t wait for anyone to speak; she already has someone in mind. She points at the tall, blond-haired boy with the broad build.

“GIMME THAT ONE,” she says, grinning. “He looks really strong!”

The boy is surprised to be chosen and points to himself.

“Me?”

Bia nods emphatically.

“Okay,” the boy says hesitantly as he stands up.

As he walks toward the center of the sandpit, Bia asks him playfully, “What’s wrong? Someone as big as you doesn’t like to fight?”

“I fight when I have to,” he responds gently, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully.

Titus then says to the boy, “Introduce yourself to the class.”

“I am Leon Alexander Gaudius,” the boy declares. “I wish to become a Legionnaire Specialis to protect those I love.”

Titus nods.

“That’s a noble goal. Though less specific than Bia’s,” he says jokingly.

As this goes on, Atreus’s mind drifts. His eyes fix on Rhea sitting on the opposite side of the ring.

He’s smitten by her.

“She is the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he thinks to himself. “She’s like an angel. I wonder if she’d ever consider a boy like me…”

Sitting next to Rhea is the freckle-faced, curly-haired brunette girl who threw the grape at his head earlier. She notices Atreus looking at Rhea and gives the unaware girl a slight nudge with her elbow.

Rhea looks at the girl nudging her, who points at Atreus across from them.

Rhea’s eyes turn to meet Atreus’s. Immediately, her eyebrows furrow in disapproval of him.

Atreus, realizing that the girls have caught him staring, quickly averts his eyes. Rhea’s reaction is both embarrassing and devastating.

“Of course. What was I thinking?” he thinks to himself.

In the center of the ring, Bia and Leon prepare to lock arms in competition.

Titus advises them, “This isn’t a real fight, so don’t get carried away. Is that clear?”

Both students nod.

“Begin,” Titus says as he steps aside to watch them carefully.

Bia and Leon grab hold of each other. It becomes apparent that Bia truly does have wrestling experience, as she almost causes her bigger opponent to lose his balance and fall over.

They grab at each other until they lock hands.

Leon uses his physical strength to try to force Bia down to the sand.

A grin widens on Bia’s face. She doesn’t appear to be struggling; both pairs of feet sink deep into the sand, which vibrates with the power emanating from their bodies.

“This is fun,” Bia says, giggling. “I wish we could go all out.”

Titus speaks to the class during the match. “I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting them to stalemate,” he says, smirking. “But this is perfect. It seems Bia here is already adept at using her psiki to increase her physical strength. She’s able to hold her own against someone twice her size.”

Bia looks Leon in the eyes and says excitedly, “He’s still holdin’ back. I can tell,” daring him to wrestle her with all his might.

The girl leans in, positioning herself to push upward and lift Leon off the ground. The much bigger boy freezes in shock, afraid that if he moves at all, he’ll become unbalanced and fall. Bia extends her arms until she is holding Leon directly above her head with his hands still locked with hers.

“I can do this one-handed too,” the girl says to Leon with a playful smile. “Wanna see?”

A wave of astonished gasps sweeps through the class. Titus blinks in disbelief.

“Okay, that’ll do for now,” he interrupts. “You may both have a seat.”

Bia pouts as she lowers Leon to the ground and releases her grip on his hands.

“Aww,” she whines.

Leon walks away from the girl, looking at her with a concerned expression on his face.

Titus speaks to the class as both students take their seats on the grass outside the sandpit.

“I look forward to seeing what you’ll all be capable of after four years of training—if you don’t drop out, that is.”

He continues, “Granted, everyone is different; you won’t all excel at the same things. Some of you will be stronger. Some of you will be faster.”

The memory fades, but the teacher’s words stay with Atreus into the present.

Atreus relaxes in the pool of hot spring water beneath the open ceiling. His head rests on the marble edge of the pool, and his eyes are closed as his face points up at the sky.

The boy’s hazel eyes open to behold the sky, now well-lit by the sun without a star to be seen. It suddenly dawns on him that he’s been there too long.

“Oh crap, I lost track of time!”

He scrambles out of the pool in a panic to get dressed, putting on his sandals first because he needs to move as quickly as possible.

He leaves the bathhouse hopping with one leg in his grey trousers. Women at the entrance gasp and cover their mouths and eyes at the sight of the still mostly naked young man trying clumsily to get dressed.

With his sandals laced and his trousers on, he’s satisfied and ready to make a dash down the cobblestone streets to the academy, carrying his red tunic and leather backpack in his hand.

He darts through the streets at tremendous speed, putting his past four years of training to use as he channels his innate magic to enhance his physical abilities.

“I can’t be late! Not today!”

At this hour, the streets are coming to life with activity. Unfortunately for Atreus, that means more obstacles to slow him down. While some of the citizens going about their business react in awe of the boy’s speed and agility, others groan in annoyance as he narrowly avoids colliding with them.

“WATCH IT, PUNK!” one man yells, trying to calm his startled hippogriff.

“Wasn't that the Speros family brat?” a brightly colored human-sized harpy asks while perched on a lamppost featuring a large Caeli Crystal atop it as the light source.

“The traitor’s son?” a woman carrying a pot of flowers outside her shop asks the harpy.

Atreus runs too fast to hear the things being said about him, still dragging his tunic and backpack along in his hand. All that is on his mind as he crosses over into the Middle District is the path before him. Physically, he’s spent. But this is when years of psiki training come into play.

“I can push myself further,” he reminds himself, quickening his pace as he digs deeper.

The cobblestone streets of the Middle District lead to a brick path across a field toward the academy. As the academy comes into view across the grounds of Campus Taiyo, Atreus steels himself, remembering instructor Titus’s words.

“No matter how strong you get or how swiftly you move, endurance and courage will be what decides the outcome.”

Atreus pushes himself all the way to the academy, though his body feels like it’s falling apart. He doesn’t quit, however. The two fields on either side of the garden in front of the three-story building are empty, meaning that everyone is already in their classrooms—making him more desperate to press on.

He pushes himself up the path through the garden to the main doors. Once through the doors, he staggers in exhaustion through the halls of the building and up the flights of stairs to his class on the third floor.

In his classroom, sixteen students are already forming their groups while Titus speaks sternly, warning them to choose wisely.

“Understand that the choices you make today are literally a matter of life and death,” he warns. “If you do not wish to be a Legionnaire Specialis, you are free to leave this room now. You’ll be able to serve in the Legion and show your devotion to the people of Torin and your Queen Ourana in other ways.”

He paces the floor slowly and continues with gravity in his voice.

“But if you wish to take that extra step and go through this trial, you will be throwing yourselves deep into the unforgiving wilds and meeting the gigantic predators where they live. Don’t choose the people you’re willing to live beside. Choose the ones you’re willing to die beside.”

After that frightening warning, four students walk out of the room.

The remaining twelve students form three groups of four. Some of the students look enviously over at Rhea, desiring to be on her team.

Rhea sits, legs crossed, patiently waiting with her teammates: Leon, Bia, and the freckle-faced Kore, who nervously fiddles with her curly brunette hair.

Titus prepares to write the names of the team members in ink on a long sheet of parchment, saying to the remaining students, “Once your names are written, your teams are finalized.”

He writes the names of the members of Team One. Then the members of Team Two.

Lastly, he begins to write the names of the members of Team Three—Rhea’s team.

Kore wrings her hands and sweats profusely. Her heart pounds within her chest.

“I can’t do this,” she whimpers.

“You can’t do what, Kore?” Bia asks her.

Titus calls out, “Team Three is made up of Rhea, Leon, Bia, and—”

Before he can write and call out the last name, Kore interrupts him.

“STOP!”

Surprised by her sudden outburst, Titus stops his pen and looks up at Kore.

The trembling girl cries, “I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

She quickly leaves her seat, goes down the wooden steps, and walks out the door—leaving Rhea, Bia, and Leon stunned.

“I can’t believe it,” Rhea says. “I should have known Kore would—”

Titus sighs. “Unless you can find another teammate, I’m afraid I can’t allow you to participate in this year’s trial. Going out there with anything less than four members is suicide.”

Just then, Atreus staggers into the room, completely exhausted, still clenching his shirt and backpack in his hand.

“PLEASE… wait,” he begs.

He leans against the wall to prevent himself from falling over, with almost no strength left in his body.

“I’m not too late, am I?” he asks.

Rhea gasps and turns her head toward the entrance at the sound of Atreus’s voice; her eyes widen with dread.

Titus chuckles at the boy’s last-second timing.

“Fate must be on your side—you’ve made it,” he says. “Barely.”

“NO, WAIT!” Rhea shouts as she rises to her feet in a desperate attempt to stop instructor Titus before it’s too late.

But Titus has already finished writing Atreus’s name on the list. He lifts the parchment and declares, “The final team is made up of Rhea, Leon, Bia, and Atreus.”

Atreus smiles in relief, panting.

“Thank Soma!”

Students around the classroom give him disapproving and envious glares while Rhea stands in stunned silence, her mouth agape and eyes wide as she contemplates how dire her situation has become.

Leon and Bia, who both seem far less mortified than Rhea to have Atreus as a teammate, look at their shocked companion.

“Um, Rhea,” Leon says. “Are you okay?”

Rhea whispers grimly, “This is a disaster...”

(NEXT CHAPTER)

A concept sketch of Atreus and Helia.