And now the real story begins.

Niota, a fragment of history. Kritos, a forgotten figure. An Aseri that scarcely resembles the world the new Star of Ire left behind. But the gods have not changed. They watch humankind without pause.

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“Quiet! Class isn't over yet!” the teacher barked from behind his desk.

A pack of thirteen-year-olds had started chattering and snickering after their classmate's remark. She only sat at her desk, wearing a look of studied innocence.

“Markella, even teachers make mistakes. You'll grow up one day and see for yourself that it doesn't matter whether you're the best student in the class or not,” said Mr. Geradas, in that know-it-all tone that always grated on her.

Grown-ups were forever pretending they knew everything.

“Sir, you can't go forgetting the founding year of the New Aseri. Not one day before the two-hundredth anniversary of the day King Niota saved the country,” Markella answered, with the same cheek she'd used to correct him a moment before.

Mr. Geradas looked at her, blinking slowly. “Then stand up, Markella. Come to my desk and enlighten your classmates. Since you know it all so well, I won't need to correct you.”

Really? He's challenging me?

She straightened her back, turned gracefully in her chair, and rose with pride. The hem of her uniform, cut just above the ankle, swirled as she made her way to the front. She turned and swept the children's faces with a confident smile. Her place, she thought at once, was here — not down there among them at the desks.

“My friends,” she said, sure of herself. “No matter how many times I hear this story, it never stops moving me. So let us remember together what happened two hundred years ago.”

She paused and scanned their faces to be certain she had them. Only Kevis watched her, a sardonic little smile on his lips. She'd deal with that later.

“The Aseri of old was a grim country. Nothing of the beauty and harmony we know today. The wicked King Viros tormented his people. He scorned the wisdom of his forefathers and gathered a council of mages,” — here her voice dropped low — “who taught him the dark arts they practiced beyond the desert. In Rovia.”

At the name of the enemy country, every child shuddered. They knew what came next.

“When the people began to rise against him, Viros — with the mages' help — brought an army of the undead out of Rovia and set it upon the brave soldiers of Aseri…” Her voice fell into something like a lament. It was the darkest hour of their history.

She raised her hand and laid it over her heart. “That was the moment the Great King Niota appeared. Only a wandering warrior then, but one who knew how dangerous the ways of Rovia truly were. The instant he saw what was being done to our country, he could not look away. With his five followers he stormed the camp of the undead and struck down Viros. Without a second thought he destroyed the mages who commanded that army of corpses, and put an end to the tyranny!”

Her hand closed into a fist and shot upward, drawing gasps from the little crowd. The teacher had raised one eyebrow and was watching her with interest.

“That is what we celebrate tomorrow. The day the Great King Niota took the throne and founded the house that rules this country still — and has made it great, and proud!”

“Oh, Miss! Miss!” Kevis called out, mocking. “And what was the very first thing the Great King did?”

“Kevis, my dear — an excellent question!” she fired back in the same ironic register, to laughter from the room. “Why, the destruction of Rovia, of course. Most of Aseri's men died in that campaign, it's true — but Rovia is no more, and can never threaten us again. And let us not forget the purge of the mages, who meant to lord it over honest folk with their tricks.”

Mr. Geradas cleared his throat. “Well, Markella, you left nothing out. But that went rather beyond a lesson. It was closer to a performance.”

She lifted her chin. “Whatever it takes, sir, to make us feel like proud Aserians. Honor to the House of the Falcon, that gave us the New Aseri!”

The teacher shook his head, thoughtful, while the children applauded.

Louppos raised his hand.

“Yes, Louppos?” said the teacher.

“Sir — my grandparents say that Aseri was saved by the Star…” Louppos began.

“Louppos!” Mr. Geradas cut him off. “Myths have no place in Aseri. Our history is exact about what happened then.”

The fool! Doesn't he know the teacher will report it to the royal watch? And he's gone and said it in front of the whole class.

The bell set off pandemonium.

“Tomorrow — everyone in formal dress, at the central square!” Mr. Geradas shouted, struggling to be heard over the children.

Markella did not leave at once. She gathered her things slowly.

“We'll wait for you by the entrance,” Kevis told her, with a wink.

“Deal,” she said.

When the room had emptied, she went to the teacher. “Sir — I'm sorry if I behaved improperly.”

Mr. Geradas smiled at her. “Markella, we all expect a great deal from you. Next year you begin at the Royal Academy. And because you placed first, don't imagine the world belongs to you, or that things will be easy there.”

She lowered her head. “I know, sir. Perhaps I get carried away sometimes… because I'll miss you. All of you.”

The teacher pressed her shoulder. “You are one of a kind, Markella. The day you become the king's counselor, I've no doubt you'll do our country greater good still. I am glad to have been your teacher.”

“And I your student, sir,” said Markella, with a wide smile.

She ran off to find her friends. She still had four precious months to spend with them.

※

Somewhere in the Realm of the Gods

The white-robed goddess of fortune stirred the vessel of fate. For a moment, her hand went still.

“Do you see something?” asked the god of truth.

“Yes. One of the Bright. There is a chance,” she answered.

“Could it be her?” asked the god.

“Could it be she,” said the goddess.

“Then let us watch,” the god said, and smiled.