Griffin felt the shift in the air as all the men realized that they quite possibly were heading straight into another battle. Another fight for their lives.
And Griffin knew with certainty that the games would be nothing compared to the trials that were yet to come.
It reminded him of a similar time. When he was on his first journey to a new country…
Fifteen Years Ago – Catastro Sea
Less than twelve hours after his father had declared he would leave the country, and he was already on a glorified “dinghy” doing exactly that. The entire vessel was barely twenty feet long and only held himself, his brother, and two other men.
Viktor and Niko.
The moon wasn’t present as they crossed the Catastro Sea, and their boat was in complete darkness.
Griffin had never left his homeland, but he was aware of the perilous journey this had the potential to be. The pirates that harvested this sea for the men enroute to and from Violencia. They didn’t even dare use a motor, simply utilizing the sails to let the wind propel them forward.
Griffin and Drago sat in the cockpit together, Drago at the helm while Griffin rested in the chair beside him.
Griffin had admired his brother growing up, spent more time with him than their father, and it was here that he relied on him again.
Growing up, Drago had always been close to their father. While Griffin was loved, it felt distant as if each encounter was barbed with a layer of separation.
“What if I fail?” Griffin murmured, his attention on the stairs that led below deck. He could hear Viktor and Niko’s snores coming up from it.
“You can’t. That isn’t an option. You must be the change that is needed. Find out if the rumors are true. If Factions are forming, if there is a revolution brewing.” Drago released the wheel, leaning back and staring up at the stars. “When it is time, father will send for you. I will bring you back myself if I have to.”
“How can I do all that? I am one man,” Griffin grumbled. He had not been trained as Drago was, simply using his youth to explore and meet strangers. He was knowledgeable to a degree but not enough for whateverthiswould be.
“Niko and Viktor will help. They have been in Violencia before. You gather an army. A group of followers who will do anything at your request.”
Griffin laughed at the joke, but when Drago didn’t speak again he realized that his brother was being serious.
Drago brought his attention to Griffin. Whereas Drago’s gray eyes, lips, and face shape were nearly a printed copy of their father’s, Griffin had come to realize he took after his mother. The woman he had stumbled upon in the Isles of Sacerdos on his first and only visit there. The one who was chained in a room sobbing, whose bright green eyes had met his for a single instant. Who had begged him to leave and never return.
He had left, but he fully intended to return.
“How do I gather an army?” Griffin asked.
Drago took a few minutes to respond. “You will find that Violencia is very different, but there are also quite a few similarities. Why do the people of Grypheem follow our father? Sure, he is king, but he also promises change. And within change there is always hope.”
Hope.
The word swirled through Griffin’s mind, but if anything, it left him more confused than before.
How could he, an eighteen-year-old, possibly enact any change? How could he bring hope to a country that he was only just now stepping foot inside? And why him? Why did this have anything to do with him?
“How does this have anything to do with my mother?”
Drago waved him off. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow we will not have time to rest, we must complete that part of the journey hard and fast.”
Griffin wanted to argue, to demand answers. But he wasn’t even sure of the questions to ask.
Instead, he listened to his brother, getting up from the chair and making his way below deck.
Hope.
The single word from before tossed and turned through him as if it were a ball made of glass. Each time it bounced, a bitmore shattered away and by the time he laid down on the pallet next to a snoring Viktor he could practically understand his brother’s intent.
He didn’t have to actually do anything, he just needed to put into others that hewould.
