Whenever Amaro found it difficult to keep his eyes open, he knew he was in a dream. The blurry figure of his father and siblings stood before him, his father droning on during a lesson.

"Atriux's story is one shouted so loudly that it still echoes to this day. Liberator to our race, founder of civilization, and vessel for the almighty Ignon, his tale is held in the highest regard by peasant and nobleman alike. Not only was he the first king, but he was the first godslayer.

Ignon, the creator of all, gifted him and his children the knowledge of soul marking, so that generations afterward could carry the power that our lifetimes could not. That primordial blessing still runs through each of you to this day. And that is why you are to stand above the dregs of society as paragons of the xiozian race. You mustn't falter, nor show vulnerability. Weakness is unbecoming of a Xirxus. And so you must be truly strong to inherit the might of your ancestors, not just in body, but also in mind and soul…

The scene shifted as it always did. A bright light, and blurred silhouettes looking over him. They were speaking, but their words were drowned out over the sound of his heartbeat.

“R29k’s pul-... is… Ch-... Incr-... survived…Te-...-age... -itor...”

Amaro opened his eyes. The sun was blinding. I have to get up now, don’t I?

He inhaled through his nose as he sat up. It had been yet another night of that weird sentence lingering in his dreams no matter how soft the bed was.

The xio swung his feet to the floor and stretched.

Today was the twentieth day of the last month of spring in the twelfth year of his lifetime. In other words, today was his twelfth birthday.

Maybe no one will notice if I sleep all day.

He strode across the large open space of his room towards his dresser. His feet slapping against the cold marble floors of his bedroom.

He exited his room onto the sunbathed carpet. He took a moment to enjoy its warmth before continuing.

Anything to prolong the inevitable.

His hallway was wide enough to drive two wagons through it and long enough to host a race between them. Ten extravagant doors lined the walkway and led to his siblings' bedrooms.

In front of him, a staircase gave way to a large open foyer. A massive floating crystal illuminated the space which served as an arcane chandelier.

The walls were lined with statues of his siblings. Artistic interpretations of what they would look like when they grew into adulthood.

Amaro stopped in front of his statue. It was donned in silken robes and painted with brilliant colors to make it uncanny to the original.

Two sets of horns sprouted from his head, as a sign of his strong breeding. The statue had a tail of obsidian scales with platinum stripes cutting across it like claw marks. Its hair was painted silvery white like a cloud. Chiseled in stone, its face bore the stoic look of a leader. But the sculptor had made this statue before Amaro had gotten the scar across the bridge of his nose, and so it lacked that key detail.

Finally, striking purple eyes made of polished sugilite; A trait which all of the statues shared.

There wasn't a day in his life that Amaro didn't want to smash it to pieces. Why had they even made it anyway? So he could stare at an idealized version of himself every morning?

There was a time Amaro aspired to be like that statue.

At the bottom of the steps, a blue-skinned butler greeted him with a gracious bow. He had long gray hair that had been neatly combed back and pulled taut into a ponytail. He looked at Amaro with a stern yet caring demeanor.

“Happy birthday, Young Master.” He said with a graceful bow, “Your breakfast awaits you. The rest of your family has been awaiting your arrival patiently.”

Amaro had been the last one to wake up as usual. He liked to sleep in, but he disliked that they had been waiting for him. He had been hoping they’d eat without him, “Why didn’t you wake me, Lorshiir?”

“We were under orders to allow you to rest, young master.”

Amaro grumbled to himself, “Thank you, Lorshiir.” He said, pushing open the door to see his family sitting at their dining table.

His siblings greeted him with an uproarious choire of “Happy birthday!” before his father raised his hand to silence them, “Good of you to break your hibernation, Amaro. I hope the chefs have not died of old age.”

Kadmus Xirxus, head of the most ancient noble xiozian bloodline in all of Itaro. The xio who could bring divinity itself to its knees with his sheer might alone. And that was no exaggeration. Though he was mortal, he was a godslayer in every sense of the word.

There was a time Amaro was proud to call Kadmus his father.

“If they have then we must work for our own bread, father. Perhaps we could all make ourselves breakfast today?”

“And waste the hard work of the help? I think not. When you are sent to the Tibur Clan this winter I have no doubt you will come to miss the luxuries you have taken for granted in this household.”

He waved his hand in a dismissive, beckoning motion.

“But for now, please sit. Let us get things underway so we are not tardy for our attendance at the tournament this afternoon. I’ve other matters to attend to after breakfast after all.”

“Do you intend to participate, father?”

His father laughed dryly, “You think I would be training to fight on the day of my eldest son’s birthday?”

Amaro saw his opening and took it, “Oh, but I’ve only ever heard stories of your great prowess in battle! Aside from the drop of power you showed me the day of your coronation as head of our clan that is-”

“I will not have you bringing that day up again, even if it is your birthday, my son” Kadmus said with cold venom on his tongue, “If you have not yet absorbed the lesson I taught you that day, do not think I won’t teach it to you again.”

The air got thick with magic. Gravity itself seemed to increase, encouraging Amaro to sit down.

He wanted to fire back.

“The scar on my nose is a reminder enough” was what he wanted to say.

But Amaro relented. He’d pushed just about as far as he knew he was allowed to get away with.

“Please take your seat, young master.” Lorshiir gestured.

Amaro complied, leaning over the table and staring his father down, “I look forward to seeing the fights just the same, then.”

“Oh there’s far more than simple entertainment today. But those are surprises for tonight. For now, enjoy your meal.”

Amaro returned a polite smile, “Thank you father. I do love surprises.”