TORIN YOUTH – CHAPTER 02: NEVER FORGET

With the teams for the final trials decided, students of the elite candidate class are dismissed early to prepare themselves for the journey outside the city’s walls at sunrise tomorrow.

The morning sun warms the citizens roaming the streets of the Temple District, the heart of the city. Among them is Rhea, who has come to see the memorials of fallen Legionnaires in the Hall of Elysium.

The weight of the place presses in on her as she beholds the monuments of marble.

She stands before the memorial of a Legate, gazing upon the statue of the man with sadness and longing in her eyes.

She reads the inscription on the plaque beneath it: “In memory of Legate Phoebus Taiyo, who gave his life in defense of the great city of Torin and her Queen, Ourana.”

A tear slips from Rhea’s eye as a crowd gathers around her, excitedly adoring her.

“That one is her father,” a woman whispers to a man beside her.

“I heard she breezed through the elite class training,” someone else says. “She’ll pass the final trial and be awarded the rank of Legionnaire Specialis, for sure.”

“Well, of course,” another replies. “Taiyo blood runs through her veins, after all.”

“She’s going to be the greatest of them all, isn’t she?” someone asks quietly.

Though she is becoming agitated, Rhea tries not to appear affected by the comments she overhears. She steps over to a different statue and reads the inscription there as well.

“Pyros Taiyo—Torin’s greatest hero.”

As she gazes up at the muscular, heroic figure, Rhea overhears more chatter from the crowd behind her.

A child says, “I want to be a legendary hero like Pyros when I grow up.”

His father replies, “So did we all, son. So did we all.”

Rhea sighs, losing herself in her thoughts.

“Everyone knows the story of my great-grandfather, Pyros...

The way he fought the giant sphinxes at the Battle of the Lucent Spire—overwhelmed and mortally wounded...

A sphinx tried to swallow him, thinking Pyros was defeated...

But the heroic warrior used his remaining strength to prevent himself from being completely swallowed...

He caused the sphinx to choke to death...

Before he took his last breath...

He died a hero…

But he died nonetheless.”

Returning her attention to the present, she overhears a man behind her.

“If anyone has the potential to surpass Pyros, it’s Rhea,” he says.

“Let’s hope and pray she doesn’t get eaten like her ancestors,” another responds.

Rhea’s anger spikes. Her gaze hardens on the memorials, her jaw tightening as her fists curl at her sides.

Furious, she returns home, but as the day goes on, she finds that the words still echo in her mind.

That afternoon, Leon arrives at the Taiyo Villa to check on his cousin.

He walks into the courtyard and is welcomed by a woman watching a thirteen-year-old boy training with a sword and shield. She wears a white stola and stands in the shade beside a pillar in the corridor surrounding the courtyard. Her long strawberry-blonde hair blows lightly in the breeze passing through the corridor as she turns to gaze upon Leon with her light-green eyes.

“Hello, Leon,” she greets him with a warm smile.

“Good day, Aunt Vestia,” Leon says, bowing his head slightly. “Is Rhea home?”

“Rhea has confined herself to her room again,” the woman tells him.

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Leon replies.

“Don’t be,” the woman says, brimming with confidence. “My daughter will make us all proud.”

“I know she will,” the boy says, smiling before turning to head down the corridor toward Rhea’s room.

“Oh, Leon,” Vestia calls softly. “Come home to us safely, dear.”

Leon halts and nods to his aunt.

“I will, ma’am. I promise.”

On the way to the room, Leon notices a headless wooden training dummy standing in the courtyard. Its torso is battered from numerous strikes made by someone’s fists; the head lies nearby, also badly damaged.

Leon opens the door to Rhea’s room and peeks in. Daylight bathes the room in a warm glow through the open double doors leading to the balcony.

Stepping into the room, he finds her sprawled out on the floor in her training attire with her hands wrapped in strips of cloth. She doesn’t respond to his entrance.

She lies motionless, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Leon sighs heavily, saddened by the state he finds her in.

“Rhea,” he calls to his cousin. “This is a day you should be spending with your family and friends—not training until you drop.”

Rhea acknowledges Leon’s presence only by stiffening her expression.

“Lucky for you, I’m your cousin, so I count,” Leon jokes as he takes a seat on her bed. “Let’s go have some fun before all the danger begins tomorrow.”

“I visited my father’s memorial today,” Rhea states.

Leon gulps. His attempt to steer the conversation toward something lighter is clearly failing.

“As everyone knows, he was killed by the Scarlet Vixen—eaten whole and alive,” she continues. “Everyone expects me to avenge his death one day. But do you know what the crazy thing is, Leon?”

Leon asks weakly, as if afraid to know, “What… what is it?”

“I’m not angry at the Vixen at all,” Rhea confesses. “She did nothing wrong. No—my father died… because he was weak.”

Leon is visibly troubled by where Rhea’s thoughts are headed. He scans the room, desperately searching for a way to change the subject.

On Rhea’s wall, he notices a wooden mask carved into a smiling face. A grin spreads across his own as he stands and picks it up.

“You still have that mask from when we were kids,” Leon says cheerfully, carrying it back to the bed. “I asked the carpenter Dominik to make it special just for you.”

The sight of it takes him back.

He recalls a time seven years ago when he and Rhea wore masks as they performed in front of a family gathering. Leon’s parents watched—his mother holding his younger sister in her arms. Leon wore a sad-faced mask at the time and wildly overacted, while Rhea wore a happy-faced mask, reacting coldly to his antics.

“Do you remember when we used to create our own comedy acts and perform them for our family and friends?” Leon asks. “You may not have thought you were funny, but your dry wit had our parents in stitches.”

“I’ve never told a joke a day in my life,” Rhea states plainly. “I only accurately pointed out that you were making a fool of yourself.”

Leon laughs at her cold delivery.

“See? You are funny, Rhea,” he assures her. “And you bring a smile to people’s faces, whether you know it or not. You’ve always made me smile.”

Rhea sighs, her demeanor softening.

“You’re annoying, cousin,” she says as a faint smile touches her lips.

Leon stands and extends a hand. “I need you to make me a promise.”

Rhea reaches up and takes his hand. “What is it?”

Leon helps her to her feet.

“Never forget who you are,” he says. “You’re not just the daughter of Phoebus, or the granddaughter of Novus, or the great-granddaughter of Pyros—you’re Rhea Taiyo. And you are loved just the way you are.”

With her hand still in his, Rhea nods. “I promise. I’ll never forget.”

Meanwhile, high above Torin City, the giant harpy Helia soars with Atreus riding atop her head.

Gale, a brown-feathered giant harpy with chest-length orange hair draped over her shoulders, flies alongside them. From this height, they can see even more harpies patrolling beyond the perimeter. They take in the view of the city, aware that this may be the last time they get to enjoy it together.

“I’ve known you almost all my life, Atreus,” Helia says. “I can’t imagine living here without you to annoy me.”

“And you think I’m a worrywart,” Atreus replies jokingly as the wind whips through his hair. “Relax—I’ll be back… and more annoying than ever.”

“Yeah, you’d better, you prickly-headed pest,” Helia says with a smile.

“I’m sure you’re going to come back with some incredible stories to tell,” the brown-feathered harpy Gale adds, smiling widely. “I can’t wait to hear them.”

Atreus gives Gale a confident thumbs-up while maintaining his hold on Helia’s hair with his other hand.

“You bet, Gale!”

He then flashes a smug grin at Helia.

“See? Airhead gets it,” he teases Helia, calling Gale by the nickname that she’s earned for her habit of daydreaming.

Helia sighs loudly.

“Ugh—let me just drop you off already.”

As Helia begins to descend, Gale peels away, calling out, “Come back safely, Atreus.”

Atreus waves as he heads toward the ground.

“Bye, Airhead!”

In the Middle District, Bia peers out the window of her second-floor apartment. She wears her favorite purple tunic with gold trim and a sash around her waist to match.

She spots the familiar white-feathered harpy flying overhead toward a space designated for giant harpies to land safely a couple of blocks away.

“That’s Helia—Atreus’s harpy friend,” she says.

Bia excitedly heads for the door, stopping to say goodbye as she passes by her parents.

“I’ll be back later, Mom and Dad!”

The man and woman, both with long, braided hair, wave as she rushes outside in excitement.

Helia alights carefully, making sure that citizens in the street are out of the way. She crouches low in the landing square, letting her wing serve as a ramp for her tiny-by-comparison friend.

Atreus slides down it and hops onto the ground to look for any sign of his teammates. Dozens of citizens pass through the area, taking in the sight of the feathered giantess. Not everyone has seen someone Helia’s size up close.

Helia looks doubtful.

“Are you sure they didn’t send ya to the wrong place?” she asks him. “You know how mean people can be. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Atreus is certain, however.

“Don’t worry, Helia. Bia and Leon seemed very sure about meeting up today,” he tells her. “I only wish I could say the same about Rhea.”

A few minutes later, Atreus spots Bia jogging down the street toward him.

“There’s Bia!” he exclaims, waving his arms wildly at her.

“You seem really happy to see her…” Helia notes, a hint of surprise in her voice.

“Yeah… I mean, I finally have a chance to make some friends my own size,” Atreus says.

The comment seems to sting Helia slightly, and her smile falters.

“I see,” she replies. “Well, to be completely honest, your size has never been a problem for me, Atreus.”

Realizing that he’s hurt her, Atreus quickly tries to apologize.

“Helia… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Don’t be,” Helia says, forcing a smile. “I know you need this. I have friends my own size. Why shouldn’t you?”

Bia leaps onto Atreus, wrapping her arms around him and knocking him over.

“NEW TEAMYYYY!” she shouts, celebrating their placement together.

“WOAH!” Atreus gasps as the impact nearly knocks the wind out of him. “You’re… you’re not afraid to be seen hugging me?”

Bia grins. “Nope~”

She rolls him onto his side, locking her legs around him tightly.

“I think you’re cute,” she says. “And I’ll fight anybody who has somethin’ to say about it.”

Atreus winces. “Ow, ow, ow… Bia, you’re gonna crush me!”

Helia looks up and sees Rhea and Leon approaching, waving.

“I got lost for a while back there,” Leon explains. “Thankfully, I bumped into Rhea, who seems to know her way around the area.”

“Woohoo, we’re all here! This is going to be great,” Bia cheers as she hops to her feet, leaving Atreus checking himself for broken bones.

Rhea offers Bia a soft smile.

“Indeed. We’re going to have some fun this evening, right?” she says.

“YES,” Bia agrees emphatically. “And we can top the night off at the Sideways Legionnaire!”

“Oh… should we be having that kind of drink before our trial?” Leon asks. “We need to be sharp tomorrow.”

“Come on, Leon—don’t be such a wet blanket,” Bia laughs.

“Drinks before we head off to our certain doom, then,” Leon jokes.

“HEY!” Bia shouts. “No jokes about dying. I promised my brothers I’d come back as a Legionnaire Specialis and rub it in their faces. Nothing’s gonna stand in my way.”

After Atreus is sure he isn’t bleeding internally, he slowly gets to his feet.

Bia immediately takes hold of his arm, giving him an inviting smile with a hint of shyness behind it. The boy blushes at her forwardness, laughing softly.

With Atreus joining his teammates, Helia prepares to take off.

“You’d better not get eaten, Atreus,” she orders him.

“Yeah, yeah. See you when I get back, egghead,” Atreus replies.

Rhea looks up at Helia with admiration… tinged with envy.

Helia notices and gives her a cold, curious look.

“What?” she snaps before flapping her wings and flying away.

The team of Legionnaire Specialis trainees strolls through the streets of Torin City as shop owners call out, inviting them to browse their wares.

Bia leans against Atreus’s arm, smiling affectionately.

Unable to dismiss it as Bia being Bia any longer, Atreus questions her. “I don’t mean to sound rude, but… this is weird. Why are you being so nice to me?”

Bia replies, “Because I like you. I’ve always liked you. But you never noticed me.”

“You’re not worried I’ll cause us to fail our trial tomorrow?” Atreus asks.

“Nope,” Bia says sweetly. “I’ve been watching you for a long time. I know you’re a good person—and the strongest one on this team.”

Atreus mulls over her words as she leans on his arm.

A man holding a musical instrument calls out, “Fine young people! Any of you interested in a beautifully crafted lyre or flute? Best prices you’ll find!”

The group approaches the shop, with Rhea lagging a few steps behind them.

Atreus’s attention is immediately drawn to a beautiful lute.

“Ooh… I’ve always wanted to learn to play,” he says, stepping closer.

“Really?” Leon asks. “I play. Maybe I could teach you.”

“Seriously?” Atreus lights up. “That would be fantastic.”

His excitement fades when he notices the price. It seems that some shops in the Middle District do business with customers from the Upper District who have much deeper pockets. He searches his mind for a less shameful excuse not to buy the lute.

“But…” he sighs. “It’s… just that I don’t have time to practice. I’m very busy. Extremely busy, really.”

As his gaze lingers on the lute, propped up on a stand, something else catches Bia’s eye.

“Oooh! Everyone—look at this lyre,” Bia says, walking over to it and reaching out to gently pluck one of its strings.

Leon’s eyes widen at Bia’s discovery as he moves to take a closer look at the lyre.

“Whoa, another beautiful find,” he says, laughing. “The price isn’t bad either—it looks like a bargain compared to the lute.”

Atreus sighs and turns away from the lute, following behind Leon and Bia as they draw attention to other items in the shop.

Still standing alone behind the others, Rhea watches and reaches into her satchel.

Bia bumps into a table holding instruments in her excitement, nearly knocking everything over.

“Whoops!”

Leon and Atreus scramble to steady the table and keep the instruments from falling.

“Yikes,” Leon says nervously. “That was a close call.”

After things settle, Rhea approaches Atreus and places the lute in his hands.

Bia and Leon stare, wide-eyed and stunned.

Atreus’s jaw drops.

“Whoa… I don’t even know how to begin to thank you,” he says, accepting the gift.

“You can start by not making a big deal out of it,” Rhea mutters, already walking away.

Atreus gazes after her, overwhelmed.

“I can’t believe it! Rhea just bought me a gift,” he quietly says to himself. “Rhea Taiyo! This has to be a dream. It has to be.”

Leon can hardly believe it himself and gives Atreus a congratulatory pat on the back.

“Wow! I don’t think I’ve ever seen her do something like this before,” he says.

Bia smiles at Atreus, happy for him.

“I understand how you must feel,” she says. “Don’t give up. Maybe she will see you the way you see her someday.”

Her words ground Atreus, who was starting to feel like he was floating. He looks at Bia, suddenly appearing conflicted.

“Bia…” he says, pausing to search for the words to express his feelings.

“I think that lute suits you,” the girl adds, smiling. “You look dashing!”

“Thank you so much, Bia,” Atreus says, blushing at the compliment and returning a warm smile to her.

Rhea loudly clears her throat, tapping her sandaled foot on the cobblestone street impatiently.

“Are you three coming or what?” she calls.

The girl turns, flipping her long strawberry-blonde hair over her shoulder and walking away. Her three teammates nod happily and hurry after her, still chatting excitedly about the lute as they catch up.

That evening—

The team members go to the Sideways Legionnaire tavern. To their surprise, the owner of the tavern, Manlius Valor, welcomes the four young people as soon as he spots them from across the tavern.

“Welcome! Have a seat wherever you’d like,” he says, gesturing to one of the few tables that are still available.

He’s a big man with short, dark hair and a bandanna on his head. Standing about 196 centimeters—or 6’5”—in height, he’s taller than Leon by just a hair.

“Lex,” he calls to his barkeep. “We have four guests of honor! They’re heading out for their final trial tomorrow! The drinks are on the house.”

The man behind the bar wears his long brown hair tied back into a ponytail. He waves to the four academy students and immediately begins pouring drinks for them.

“Thank you, sir,” Bia says to Manlius with a wide grin as she saunters over to a table near the center of the tavern.

The four take their seats. Leon admires the decor, gazing at the arrangement of armor pieces and weapons, as well as other relics of Legionnaire history throughout the establishment.

“How did he know just by looking at us?” Atreus asks, perplexed.

“Leon,” Rhea says to her cousin, lightly nudging him with an elbow.

“Huh?” Leon asks, initially confused about why she’s signaling for him to answer the question. “Oh… It’s because Rhea is here. And everyone knows her.”

“Of course,” Atreus mutters, realizing how obvious the answer was while glancing at the girl sitting directly across from him at the table.

Rhea keeps looking elsewhere, doing her best to avoid looking in his direction.

“It’s also because the owner, Manlius, was a friend of my uncle Phoebus,” Leon continues. “And he was a former Elite Legionnaire candidate. But he never took the final trial.”

Atreus nods to Leon.

“I see,” he says.

Leon discreetly nudges Rhea back and whispers, “Would it kill you to speak directly to him?”

“It might,” she stubbornly replies.

Their conversation is cut short by Manlius raising his voice to grab the attention of everyone in the tavern.

“May I have your attention, please, everyone?”

The place is already relatively quiet for a tavern, but now it goes silent.

“I apologize for the lack of music tonight—the bard wasn’t able to make it,” he announces. “Unless our pretty little harpy girls decide to grace us with a song, it’s going to be a quiet night.”

Atreus turns to Leon, remembering that the other boy knows how to play the lute.

“How about we perform?” he asks. “I’ll sing and you can play.”

“That’s a fantastic idea!” Bia shouts, slapping both hands on the tabletop.

Atreus quickly hides his face as eyes turn in their direction.

“Wait,” he says. “On second thought, someone might recognize me, and then I’ll be run out of here.”

Bia searches her mind for a solution and then gets an idea.

“Aha!”

She removes the gold sash around her waist and hands it to Atreus.

“Wrap this around your face,” she instructs him, holding her tunic against her body with her other hand.

Atreus takes the sash and wraps it around the lower half of his face.

“How do I look?” he asks.

“Huh? Who are you? Where did Atreus go?” Bia asks jokingly.

Atreus laughs at the girl’s terrible acting.

“Come on, Bia—seriously?” he asks her with a smile that comes through in his voice.

“Can you guys just get this over with?” Rhea abruptly asks, sighing.

Atreus and Leon look at each other and nod.

“Let’s do it,” they say in unison.

As they stand and head toward the stage in the pub, Manlius turns a curious eye toward them to see what they’re up to.

“Do you know the Ballad of Ovus the Bold?” Leon asks Atreus, giving the lute strings a few melodious plucks.

“I only know the first two lines,” Atreus answers with slight embarrassment on his face. “But I do know the rhythm, so I can just improvise.”

Leon shrugs.

“If you’re confident that you can, let’s give it a shot,” he says.

Atreus faces the large crowd in the tavern and takes a deep breath to steady his nerves. He sings, immediately captivating the audience with his voice, like someone born to be heard.

Ovus the Bold

Blessed by Soma

To bear the breastplate of gold.

Fair maidens he thrilled

The land he did rescue

From the maws of giants he killed.

Facing the dread gorgon

He steals the apple of her eye

All to cure his boredom.

Weary of life below a star

He yearned to join it above

Only to lament that it was too far.

In tears he cried, we must heed the light

Yet kneel not to the sun in the sky

For it reveals even to the blind the path that is right.

At the end of the song, the tavern erupts in cheers and cries for more. Atreus and Leon nod to each other and continue performing songs for the lively crowd, only stopping for drinks in between. Among those singing along are two human-sized harpies who are popular for their comedy routine and uncanny talent for mimicking any voice they hear. They glance at Bia and Rhea often, curious about the boy wearing the sash to hide his face.

Throughout the performances, Bia claps enthusiastically, while Rhea tries to appear unmoved. However, even she finds herself subtly swaying to the rhythm. Bia catches her in the act, leading Rhea to reluctantly confess, “I suppose their performance isn’t terrible.”

“Why not just let go and enjoy yourself, Rhea?” Bia asks the other girl.

“I must stay focused, Bia,” Rhea answers. “You have incredible physical strength, and I admire that… but what lies ahead of us will require a different aspect of strength.”

As she is explaining herself, the two human-sized harpies approach the table. The blonde-haired harpy with bright purple and orange feathers asks the two human girls about the masked boy, impressed by his range.

“Who’s that singer? He’s got an amazing voice… for a human, of course.”

Rhea shrugs at the question and bluntly states, “I have no clue. Now leave me alone, feather duster.”

The blonde harpy recoils at the sharp response and turns to the harpy with her. The blue-haired harpy with red and blue feathers smirks, noticing that Bia is hiding her face behind her hand.

“Let me handle this, Eva,” she smugly says to the blonde harpy.

“Don’t you think it’s odd that someone so talented wants to hide his face?” she asks Bia.

“Ohh, good question, Dion,” the blonde harpy chimes in. “I should have asked that instead.”

“Um… no,” Bia mutters, with discomfort plain in her voice. “He… just doesn’t want to be recognized.”

The blue-haired harpy, Dion, narrows her eyes in suspicion.

“Well, obviously! But why? Is he wanted or something?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Bia quickly answers, still hiding behind her hand. “He’s just humble. Doesn’t want fame.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” the blue-feathered harpy tells her with a knowing smile.

The harpies lose interest and return to their own table, hopping up to perch on stools instead of sitting in chairs.

Rhea leans forward, propping her chin in her hands with her elbows on the table. She smiles smugly at Bia.

“What’s that look for?” Bia inquires with a perturbed expression.

“They read you like a book,” Rhea tells her, wearing a satisfied smile.

Atreus and Leon finish their last song, bowing to cheers and requests for another.

Returning to their table, Leon jokes to the group, “I think we broke that lute in properly. How many songs was that?”

“Enough that I might not have a voice tomorrow,” Atreus admits, laughing.

“It’s late,” Bia says, smiling. “We should go home and rest.”

“I agree,” Rhea says.

The four academy students rise from the table and head toward the exit as Manlius leads the tavern in a cheer.

“Let’s hear it for our future Elite Legionnaires!” he shouts. “Go show those giants what you’re made of tomorrow!”

The team waves to the rowdy tavern patrons as they exit into the quiet night.

“I guess this is it,” Leon says. “The next time we meet, we’ll be heading beyond the city walls.”

“Yup,” Bia chimes in.

Atreus removes the sash and hands it back to Bia.

“Thank you,” he says. “To all of you. You don’t know what today meant to me.”

Bia throws her arms around him happily.

“No need to thank us,” she assures him warmly.

Rhea watches.

A sigh escapes her lips, catching Atreus’s attention. He turns to her, and she looks him in the eyes for what feels like the first time in years.

“If it’s alright, I’ll walk with Atreus,” Rhea says. “I want to speak with him… alone.”

After some hesitation and bewildered looks, Leon and Bia agree.

“Okay,” Leon says.

“Sure,” Bia follows suit.

The two say their goodnights and leave Atreus and Rhea alone.

“Follow me,” Rhea commands.

Atreus takes a deep breath and follows behind her.

As Bia and Leon walk down a street in a different direction, they question the sudden change in Rhea.

“You’re her cousin—what do you think she suddenly wants to talk to him about?” Bia asks.

“I don’t know,” Leon confesses. “But the fact that she is talking to him at all is progress, I think.”

After reaching an intersection, Bia and Leon wave goodbye and go their separate ways.

Atreus’s heart pounds against his chest as he walks with Rhea. The strawberry-blonde girl seems composed, her posture relaxed and assured—the definition of being in control.

As they walk the streets with the Sideways Legionnaire behind them, Rhea sees a giant magenta-feathered harpy with light-brown skin perched on the Great Inner Wall in the distance. The harpy’s light-blue eyes follow the two students as they walk toward the Lower District. Even at a great distance, the harpy’s eyes appear enormous.

Rhea narrows her comparatively tiny eyes at the harpy and, after a long silence, finally speaks.

“Don’t you ever get tired of being so small?”

Atreus hesitates to answer, as if caught off guard by the question.

“Ye… yes. Of course. Who wouldn’t get tired of being hated for something their mom did?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Rhea responds, meeting the harpy’s piercing gaze. “What I’m talking about is bigger than that. Look at us. Trapped. Unable to roam beyond these walls without risking being devoured by monsters whose heads scrape the heavens.”

“I’ve never thought about our lives that way,” Atreus admits.

“Look at her,” Rhea says, her eyes fixed on the harpy. “No fear. A predator, inside and out.”

Atreus observes the silhouette of the harpy under the moonlight as he silently listens to Rhea give her perspective.

“A predator does what she wants, goes where she wants, eats who she wants,” Rhea adds. “She is no one’s prey. And to make sure she never becomes prey, she must NEVER tolerate weakness in any of its forms. No—the weak shall be her prey.”

Atreus frowns, confused. “I don’t understand. Where do I fit into this?”

Rhea laughs softly.

“I want you to know that I don’t blame your traitorous mother for my father’s death. The Scarlet Vixen only devoured my father because she was strong enough to do it and he was too weak to stop her—there’s no one else to blame. That is the way of the world we live in.”

Atreus sighs as conflicting emotions stir within him.

“I always thought you hated me so much because of my mother’s actions,” Atreus admits. “But to hear you say that now…”

“Now you won’t have any guilt clouding your mind tomorrow,” Rhea replies.

“So, you don’t hate me then?” Atreus asks. “I promise you that I will never betray our team or Torin City.”

“Don’t get the wrong impression, Atreus Speros,” Rhea says coldly, turning her head away from him. “I do hate you. I hate you with every fiber of my being.”

The boy staggers—the words piercing his heart like a spear.

The girl doesn’t let up.

“You are weak, and there’s no possible way I could love someone like you.”

Atreus breathes heavily, trying to compose himself amid the avalanche of emotions overtaking him.

He weakly grips the lute that Rhea gifted him, almost letting it slip from his hand.

“After this trial is complete, I don’t ever want you to come near me again,” Rhea says as she walks away from him.

(NEXT CHAPTER)

A rough concept sketch of Rhea.