I rode on alone through the outskirts of Ugarit, the sun climbing slowly behind me. Every hoofbeat echoed like a drum inside my skull. The dead marched with me—my ten thousand, stripped of flesh and pride, whispering in the wind. Their eyes hollow. Accusing.
A child darted across the street, his laughter slicing through the stillness like a blade. Dirt smudged his cheeks, his curls wild—but his smile was unbroken. Untouched by blood. Untouched by ghosts.
I must’ve looked like that once. A long time ago. Before the world carved me hollow.
Turtanu’s voice echoed again—You will never be enough.
I clenched my fists until the leather reins bit into my palms. I drew my cloak tighter—not against the chill, but against the truth pressing in.
I was freezing from the inside out.
But I would not shiver.
Not for him.
Not for anyone.
I’d burn before I broke.
I passed the temple square. Families embraced. Merchants shouted. Soldiers were handed laurel and shouted at like kings. But not me. No one called my name—no one scattered petals. Lazarus took the gold, the praise, the girl.
The bazaar was a riot of elbows and barter—cloth stalls snapping in the wind, the smell of roasting meat, vendors hawking their wares like they could drown out grief with noise. A gust ripped through the stalls, flinging colors like torn flags and tugging at my hair with clawing fingers. My ghosts tightened their grip; their whispers became a howl beneath my ribs.
“Pull it tighter, damn it!” a man bellowed. His boy flinched, hands trembling as if he might shatter. Disposable. I’d once been that boy.
My father’s voice came back to me, bright and cold—Hold the little bastard still. The memory slammed into me so hard my hands clenched.
Two boys sparred at the market edge with wooden blades, laughing like nothing had ripped the world open. They had each other. I had a graveyard of brothers and a name that tasted like ash.
I pushed through the crowd, past the stink and the coin-clink, until the market’s clamor fell away and the noble quarter opened before me—wide streets, clean flagstones, a colder air that felt meant to keep men like me out. Each step toward my father’s house felt like a sentence read aloud.
The last turn always choked me. Beyond it lay a world that had never wanted me—halls that had spat me out and labeled me a mistake.
The estate loomed, a block of stone and shuttered windows. Lions carved in basalt flanked the gate, mouths hard with contempt as if even inanimate things knew I did not belong. The sand at the entrance was tramped flat by other men’s comings and goings; their footprints made a map I hadn’t earned.
My shame rose like bile, and the dead circled close, voices thin and accusing—You led us to slaughter. You wore glory like a mask while our blood fed the sand. You killed us.
I sat the horse a moment at the gate, the animal’s breath steaming in the chill. My legs ached from the ride; my hands still shook. I eased down, sandals whispering on stone. The sound was small and ridiculous—the only honest thing I owned.
I crossed the threshold.
He was waiting in the center of the foyer—tall, rigid, draped in a robe the color of dried blood. Lord Lorian. My father. His fists were clenched, the veins in his forearms rising like cords, his eyes honed to strike.
“You fucking son of a bitch,” he hissed. “You got demoted. Demoted. After everything I’ve done for you. You pathetic fucking waste.”
His words struck harder than any sword on the battlefield.
I froze. Every muscle locked. My body was a bowstring ready to snap.
“You reckless piece of shit,” he snarled, stepping closer. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? The name of House Lorian lies in ruin because of you. You’ve shamed every soldier who ever bled for this kingdom.”
“Father, just listen to me?—”
“Oh, I’m listening. I’m listening to the same fucking excuses I’ve heard since you could talk. You lost ten thousand men, and now you want sympathy? You want redemption?”
He advanced, breath heaving, fury crackling around him like a storm brewing over the sea.
“Julian died a hero. And you?” His lip curled. “You’re just a fucking disappointment wrapped in pretty lies.”
