Prologue

“Give that here boy, you’ll hurt yourself!” My father says, taking the kopis from my hands gently. I look up at him, the way I always have, trying to find his face beneath his beard as he towers above me. I look for any sign of love, any sign of affection. On queue, he bends his knees, coming to my height. He cups his hand around my head, gently stroking my hair.

“This is a special day son,” he says. “This is a day of peace, of reconciliation. Today, I finally shine a light on my actions.” He looks proud at that. “One day, you will inherit my throne and look back on this day in appreciation son.”

“Agis, please, Jace is only ten years old! Let him be a child,” my mother says congenially.

“Helen, he is the heir,” my father whispers. It’s like he thinks I don’t know that. It makes me smile, him trying to protect me. I’m trying so hard to grow up, to fill his shoes. I forget my age sometimes.

“I must prepare him, Helen. I won’t be around forever.” My father’s hand on the back of my head is warm, tender. It fills me with comfort and reminds me that I am home. I think he’s foolish saying he won’t be around forever. How could any of this change? I certainly don’t want it to.

“Jace,” he says, affection lacing his voice. “I may finally have new friends for you to play with after today. It won’t just be you and your sister.”

I’m suddenly struck with a jolt of panic. “Father, are you leaving?” I ask, afraid of the answer. He affects disappointment.

He sighs. “For a spell, yes,” he says. “But, I will return before the next moon cycle. You have my word. On the gods, I swear it. Jace, I—,” he pauses. “I think you will be the greatest of all the Four Kings. Our House is growing stronger. I believe that after this day, we will control all of Pella. That will be yours son. I believe this to be true, so it must be.”

“Agis,” my mother says, hushed. “Come here.” She wraps her arms around him, showing him affection. I’ve always known my parents to be a pair, only apart when duty requires. I’m old enough to know that this is unusual in our empire. But it’s all I know.

I find myself afraid. I dig deep inside like my mother taught me, looking for the reason. I find none. The world around me is fast moving, out of my reach. Whatever is happening today is beyond my understanding, but I try to force happiness upon myself for my father, not wanting to spoil his mood.

I wander to the window. Looking out upon the kingdom my father has promised me, my eyes are drawn to the mountains, southwest of here. They rise high into the sky. Snow caps their peaks. I only know of snow theoretically. I’ve never seen it. I keep asking my parents to take us, but these last months have been busy.

I feel something wet nuzzle into my hand. “Keeper!” I laugh. The dog is relentless, never leaving me alone. A shepherd, her coat is three colors, black, white, and copper. She’s only a puppy so she can barely reach my hand. I’ve been training her every day for the last couple of months.

“Helen, pour me another glass of that red there,” my father says.

“Maybe you should slow down Agis. They’re bound to be here anytime,” my mother says.

“Please Helen! Nothing will stop me this day. It is a day of celebration. Those House Aetos pricks will learn where they stand today. I’ve handled everything. Finally, they will fall in line. This means something to me and my House. We’ve contended with them for generations. Finally, I’ve made peace. This is not the work my father would have had me do. I feel as though I’m failing him, but you understand. You know why this must be done Helen. Together, the Two Houses will make Pella whole under our leadership.”

I don’t understand any of this. I grab Keeper by the collar and lead her over to the corner. “Here girl!” I say, holding out a treat. She grabs it out of my hand. It makes me laugh. She brushes me with her snout, licking my hands. I tune out what my parents are saying, wishing I could just go play with the few friends that I have.

I can’t help but look at the room. We do everything in here. We eat in here. Play games in here. I feel like I’ve grown up behind these four walls, staring at the patterned marble, the columns that rise floor to ceiling.

Out the window, my eyes return to the Kush mountains. I wonder what they’re like. Are there people out there? I’ve never met anyone outside of the royal Houses. They’re all so boring. I find myself wanting more.

I’m distracted by a knock on the door.

“Agis, open it,” my mother says.

My father walks over to the double doors and swings them wide open, revealing a delegation of at least ten men and women, most with their faces covered by a red cowl.

“Phillip!” My father says to the young man standing at the front of the crowd. The man doesn’t acknowledge my father, doesn’t pull down his cowl. He brushes past my father, jamming his shoulder into him, pushing him backwards.

My father is clearly concerned for the man. “Phillip, what’s wrong?” He asks. “What’s wrong, please tell me?”

“What’s wrong?” Phillip sneers, his voice nearly a growl. “What’s wrong?” His voice grows louder. I can feel myself tense up. I don’t understand. “Nicator,” he says emotionlessly, motioning a man forward.

A man steps forward, big, bigger than I’ve ever seen. He’s brutish. He carries something in his arms. Slag me, it’s a body. Even I can recognize that despite it being wrapped in a shroud. He tosses the corpse to the floor. I can’t see his face.

“Demetrius,” my mother murmurs, shock in her voice. She knows the dead man, head of the guard I think.

“What going on here Phillip? Tell me now,” my father demands.

“The bill has come due Agis,” Phillip says. “The bill has come due.”

“What are you prattling on about? What are you playing at? Guard! Guard!” My father calls.

“No one will be coming,” Phillip says, pointing to the dead man.

Phillip is a young man, younger than my father. He must thirty five, young for one of the Four Kings. His face is unblemished, except for the anger he wears there. He has no facial hair, no mark. He could be mistaken for an even younger man, were it not for the apparent hatred found on his face.

“Parmenion,” Phillip says casually to a nearby armed guard. The man is short, stocky, well-built. He wears a short beard to go along with his shoulder length hair. He’s older than Phillip, has had a harder life. He seems to be enjoying all of this.

He steps forward, carrying another load in his arms. He unburdens himself, throwing the load onto the floor. Another body. This time I recognize the man.

“Andrew. Who did this?” My mother asks, tears coming to her eyes. Her brother lies dead on the ground. “Andrew was meant to be ambassador to your House. You accepted him on terms of peace! What is the meaning of this?”

“I’ve returned your dog,” Phillip says. “He bothered me.”

“Explain yourself Phillip before I cut you down myself! Guard!” My father calls out loudly.

“No one is coming!” Phillip insists. “This is the end of your family. I’ve come to snip the bud myself. You. Your wife. Your…spawn.” Phillip levels a look at me.

“Helen, to arms!” My father bellows. He brandishes the kopis he took from me, forming it into a four foot long blade, curved forward in the family style. He’s an imposing figure, six and a half feet tall, thick, muscular.

My mother holds up a blaster pistol, leveling it at Phillip’s head. Phillip’s retinue form a semicircle behind him, blocking the way to the doors.

“Precious,” Phillip says, pulling his own blade. It forms into a long sword, longer than my father’s. He rushes in, lifting his blade high. Phillip is ferocious. My father is a trained, disciplined warrior. He only just started teaching me the fighting arts, but I know his strength. My heart soars, knowing that my father will get us out of this.

They lock blades high, their faces only inches from each other. I can barely keep up with the action, they move so fast. There’s a flurry of blade swings and stabs. My father pushes Phillip back against the wall. There’s an opening in his defenses. My father hits Phillip square in the nose. Blood erupts from the impact and Phillip goes to the ground. My father looms over him.

“Yield,” my father says.

Phillip starts laughing. “Parmenion, kill them all,” he says from the ground.

The greasy looking man spins into action, coming first for me. I panic. He pulls a blaster pistol.

“Dad, help me!” I shout.

Before my father can move, there’s an inhuman scream that comes from the other side of the room. My mother throws herself into the fray. She comes, violent, unrelenting. I think for a moment that I’m safe, that things will work out for us.

Parmenion smiles. He just levels his blaster pistol at my mother.

“Jace, run!” She says. Her eyes meet mine. “I’m sorry son.”

Parmenion fires his pistol and my mother falls to a blaster bolt, eyes open but seeing nothing.

“No!” I scream. Keeper runs to my side, growling.

“Helen,” my father says weakly. Phillip has pulled himself to his feet.

“Goodbye Agis,” he says.

My father turns to face Parmenion. “Draw your blade, dog,” he says. Parmenion gladly acquiesces.

But it’s no use. Phillip and his retinue close in on my father. He’s surrounded. I can see panic in his eyes when he looks to me.

Phillip draws his blade and comes at my father from behind, fast. My father takes the bait. He can’t even turn his body to meet the threat before Parmenion grabs his sword arm, halting his progress.

“Please no,” I say in a whimper.

My plea goes unheard. Parmenion stabs my father in the chest. Once. Twice. He gasps, looking to me one last time. I think he’s trying to say something, but I can’t make it out. He’s too weak. He falls to the ground, still, motionless.

I scream as loud as my small body will allow me. Phillip turns to notice me. “Now, now, my dear boy. Everything will be alright. Come, let me show you the way,” he says, gesturing me closer.

Parmenion draws close to me. I can smell my parent’s blood on his skin. He reaches out for me, only a few yards away. Someone bellows from behind me. A figure, tall and lean, lands in front of me, coming in through the window, long dark cloak billowing in the breeze from the open window. He lands between me and Parmenion. He holds a long weapon in his hands, a sarissa, long, deadly. A Faceless! One of the Hel has come! His face is shielded from me, his mask glistening in the firelight that illuminates our small room.

The Hel breaks the sarissa over his knee, leaving the long portion with a spear tip in his right hand and a long pole in his left. He strikes out with his right hand, catching Parmenion in the face with his spear tip. Blood blossoms at the site and Parmenion cries out in pain.

The Hel turns to me. “Run boy!” He grabs my arm, trying to usher me from the room. But I look at my parents, lying dead on the ground. I feel like I’m frozen, rooted to the spot.

They’re gone. They butchered them. This was meant to be a special day, one that I would remember forever.

“We must go!” His muddy voice repeats. I can’t see past the glittering mask that he wears, but I can hear the strain.

“Thalia! We have to get Thalia!” I scream. “My sister, we can’t leave her!”

“There’s no time,” the deep voice says.

He pulls hard on my arm. No. This can’t be happening. I can’t leave Thalia. I can’t leave my parents. I see them lying there. I know I can help them, I know I can.

“Come boy!”

I snap out of the haze of my mind. I turn to follow him. Soon we’re out the window, Keeper in tow. He has me in his arms and I’m being carried. I can see noting of the room that I was in anymore. I can’t see the bodies. I let myself give in to it all. My parents are gone. My home is lost. My life is done.

Chapter 1: Found

Slag me. Twenty years old. Well, almost. One more day and I’ll finally be of age. I’ve been waiting for this since that day ten years ago. Retribution. Justice. Where will it come from? I have no clue. But it just feels good being this age.

I step out of our small hut. We’re nestled in among the Kush mountains. The peaks of the range loom tall over top of my head. It’s a crisp early spring day and the sky is bright blue, the clouds in the distance threatening snow. Ahead of me, the conversation of the tribe coalesces around the activity that we can see taking place down in the valley. Three ships. Black. Large. Foreign.

The air is bracing, cold still for the season. Spring is coming, but it’s not here yet. I bend down and trace my finger through the layer of snow that rests upon the ground. The chill reminds me of childhood, of my parents. They used to love to ski. They never let me go. Had to be kept safe, being the heir and all. But now…well. It’s all I can think about.

I walk to the edge of the cliff overlooking the valley. I scope out the three ships. There’s movement for the first time. Maybe we’ll have some interaction with the interlopers today. That would provide some excitement.

“Jace!” A voice calls from behind me. Hel. The Faceless.

“Coming!” I shout. I shove all my thoughts about my parents and the past out of my mind. I shove thoughts about the future out of my mind. He won’t want to hear about any of it. He’ll only want to hear about the here, the now. Fine by me.

“You left a mess,” he says. He looks the same as he does everyday. Sounds the same. Feels the same. Theres never any change with this man. You’d think it would be comforting after all these years, but it’s driving me crazy.

“Yeah well, I was in a hurry,” I say, picking up a bit of food from the night before, hoping that it’s still good.

“I’ve taught you better than that,” Hel says.

“Maybe we could try something new today,” I suggest.

“I don’t like new.”

“I know you don’t. But we don’t grow unless we do things we don’t like, right? Isn’t that what you told me?” I argue. I swear, if I can’t get this slagger to let me go into town today I’m going to lose it. I’m a man. I have the right to do whatever I want.

“You don’t grow. I grow just fine with things the way that they are.” Infuriating.

“Hel, you’re killing me. Let’s just go into town. Grab your cloak. It’ll be worth it, I swear.”

“No.”

“Fine. I’ll go alone,” I say, knowing the reaction I’ll get.

“You will not!”

“So we go together,” I say.

“Fine.”

“Keeper, stay here,” I say to the dog, patting her on the head. She rubs her head against my hand in a loving way as we head out.

An hour later, we find ourselves in the market. The wind whips down from the mountain peaks, chilling me to the bone. The residents of the small town don’t seem to mind.

“Where in the name of the gods have you been boy?” A voice from behind me asks. “It’s been two weeks since I’ve seen you down here!” I turn to see Burga, a spindly old woman who sells dried fish from the distant sea. She has a smile resting on her face, in between drapes of grey hair.

“Burga! Whoa, what happened to your hand?” I ask as I see the bandages wrapped around her left hand. I rush forward, taking it in my hands.

“Don’t you worry about me boy,” she says, pulling her hand away.

“You know, I won’t be a boy after tomorrow,” I say. “I hit twenty tomorrow. Military age.”

“Will you be leaving us? I didn’t take you for an Aetos man. You seem too…brash for that lot.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I say, looking behind me for Hel. “Big man wouldn’t survive without me.”

“Speaking of, did he like the fish that I got for him? It’s rare that he requests anything specific,” Burga asks.

“Don’t know,” I say. “Believe it or not, we’ve never eaten together.”

“Poor child. I was an orphan too you know.”

“How would you know if I’m an orphan?” I ask. An image of my parents flashes to the front of my mind. That night. They were meant to be so much more than they were, I’ve realized as I’ve gotten older. A King and a Queen who could have been more. They were special people.

“You have that look. I’d know it anywhere. Now, you gonna buy something or are we just gonna chat?”

“I gotta visit some of my other friends Burga.”

“You have other friends?” She asks with mock surprise. I lean in and kiss her on the forehead.

“See you tomorrow.”

I look through the various wares that are on offer in the other stalls. There’s a disproportionate amount of pottery in this market. It’s beautiful, but theres definitely more than I need to look at. I’m looking for something specific.

Hel looms over me from behind, his mask covered face covered with a hood. He does his best to be inconspicuous, but it’s hard when you’re nearly seven feet tall and you never show your true face. He’s jittery here, nervous.

“Calm down,” I whisper. “You’re gonna give us away.”

“It would not be a concern if you would hurry,” he says. I take it to heart.

Part of me wishes that he was never right. But today, I’m starting to think that we might be on the same side. I notice three men, dressed in black, fanned out at the edge of the town. They don’t look like locals.

Slag. They noticed me looking at them. Their leader, a big burly man, starts walking hurriedly towards me. Slag, slag, slag. I look around for Hel, hoping he’s close. I can’t find him. The man is getting closer.

I dart down an alleyway next to some pottery vendor’s stalls. I wind up behind the buildings. I’m isolated. It dawns on me that this is the exact kind of place that they would want me in. But who are they? We’ve been out here for ten years. No one has come for us. Why now?

“Jace Andris. You will drop all weapons and come with us,” a stern voice calls from behind me. Well. Slag me. I haven’t heard anyone but Hel call me that name in ten years. I turn to see the big burly man leading his men in my direction. I turn in a hurry to head back down the corridor. Slag! There’s nowhere to go. The way is blocked by a pile of trash. The men get closer. They’re only fifty feet away. My hand drifts to my waist. I got to stop doing that. There’s nothing there. I resolve that I won’t let them take me, that I’ll embarrass myself before I give up to these mercenaries.

Twenty feet away. I can smell the cheap cologne that their leader uses.

“Look, goon squad, we can talk this out,” I try. I need to end this. The fact the he even knows who I am chills me. I’m not safe here. Not anymore.

“No talking,” their leader says. “You’re worth enough when you stay silent.” So, they’re bounty hunters. I can work with that.

“What if I told you that I could give you more than whatever the payout for this job would be if you just leave us alone?” I proffer.

“They said you’d say that. That’s why they’re paying us triple.”

“Triple? Well, slag me. I can’t match that. But I can promise not to kill you,” I say leadingly.

“I think we’ll be just fine,” the big burly man says. He gives hand signals and his two men fan out, coming towards me.

“Alright, alright, you got me. I don’t have any money. But I have influence. Surely that matters to you.”

“Shut your mouth boy,” big man says. They’re within arms distance now. I sink into my training. Hel has been busy for ten years. He’s taught me their way of fighting, the Dancer’s Shadow. I fall into its movements. I fall into that familiar head space, where my body moves in perfect synchronicity with my mind. Every thought is quickly brought to bear. No hesitation. It’s a relentless, if not tiring, way of fighting.

I bring my fists to bear on the closest of the men. Jaw, stomach, jaw, stomach. When I’m done with him, he’s hurling on the ground, his breakfast coming back to haunt him.

I move rapidly on to the next man, taking them one by one. I box his ears, finding a knife at his waist. I pull it and slash at his knees, taking out his ACL’s. He drops and I skewer him through the chest. I can almost hear his heart stop beating. So much for not killing anyone. Having given up on that notion, I take the knife from the dead man’s chest and fling it at the first man. He falls.

The last man holds up his fists in contest. I act on instinct. I bowl into him, knocking him to the ground. I pummel him until he’s no longer conscious. I look up at what I’ve just accomplished. I guess anyway you look at it, it’s bloody. Where the slag is Hel?

I drag the bodies into the center of the alleyway so they’ll be easy to dispose of. Hel comes ambling up to me as I do so.

“Where the slag where you?” I ask.

“I was securing the perimeter,” he says simply.

“That’s all you have to say for yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Well, good for you. I have this all under control,” I say, pointing to the three bodies.

“There will be more,” Hel says, unfazed.

“What does that mean?”
I don’t have to wait for the answer. I hear the roar of ships overhead.

“Slag!” I shout. “Run!” We bolt for the security of the cliffs. The ships roar overhead, dropping their payload on the city. Innocent civilian buildings fall. Bodies are ruined.

I lose sight of Hel in the madness. Eventually his hand finds mine. He grips it tight until the bombing is over. I can’t help but be transported to that day. Everything rushes back to me now. I thought I could handle this, but I may have been wrong. It finally hits me. After ten years, so close to being a man, I’ve finally been discovered. I am found.

Chapter 2: Faceless

When night falls, we return to the town in stealth. I mull over what I’ve done. These last ten years haven’t been easy. I’ve killed before, but it was never so easy. I feel a little sick about it. Those men would have killed me…right? Taken me to House Aetos, let Phillip finish the job he started ten years ago? If all that’s true, why does it feel like I did something wrong?

“Do you see them?” Hel asks. The light from the burning fires of the city reflect off of his blue and silver mask. I’ve never seen his face, only the blue-grey skin of his neck and hands. I look to where he indicates. I curse.

“Hypaspists. They really sent shock troops. They know Hel. They know it’s us. I thought those thugs were just chasing a hunch. But look at the color of their armor. Gold and red. Those troops are Aetos,” I say. I sound like a child with the fear in my voice.

“Calm down boy. Center yourself,” Hel says. I try to do as he says. I really do. But I forget all of his teachings as I watch the Hypaspists drag bodies out of the burning buildings. These people killed my family. I want to rush in there, me and Hel, and wreak havoc on those men and women.

“No,” I say.

“Explain,” Hel says calmly.

“I need answers Hel. I need to know if they’re coming for me. I need to know if I’ve endangered these people.” I have to know what happened to Burga.

“Respectable. I will accompany you.” Hel touches his forefinger to the top of his mask in his way.

We use the darkness to hide our approach to the city. I’m slagging unarmed. No armor. Lunacy. This is lunacy. I look to Hel, equally unarmed and unarmored. Well, at least it’s a shared psychosis.

We pull up behind the nearest building at the edge of town. I lean on the stone of the wall. It’s warm from the fire. It makes me sick thinking about what would have happened to anyone inside.

Peering around the corner, I get a better look at the Hypaspists. They wear head to toe chromium armor painted in House Aetos colors. Their helmets are shaped into blank faces with long skinny noses and sunken eyes. All wear them. No faces are shown.

“We must capture one of them,” Hel whispers from my side.

“Are you insane?” I ask. “They’ll never leave if we do that.”

“Then we must do away with them all. They do not do a troop check until they are back in their barracks. We will have at least a standard day.”

“Why?” I ask.

“I cannot say. You must trust me. You may not know until tomorrow.”

I’ve known the man for ten years. He saved me. He’s virtually raised me. But I can’t say that I know him, not in the way that a man knows their friend. He’s secretive. We’ve never shared a meal together. I train alone most of the time. But I trust him. I trust him with my life. I owe him that much for saving me.

“I’m in. What’s your plan?” I ask.

“Follow me.” He darts behind the building, down an alleyway. It’s dark back here. All the flames have gone out and the light from our two moons is obscured. Hel moves with purpose, skirting boxes and crates, deftly making his way down the alley. We reach a crossroad. The shock troops come into view once again. We’re right in their midst now.

“Make a noise,” Hel says.

“Make a noise? That’s your slagging plan? Sometimes I wonder what’s going on behind that mask.” I rummage around on the ground until I find a stone. I throw it against the wall.

“What was that?” One of the troops asks.

“Go check it out,” the gruff voice of his commander says.

“Ready yourself,” Hel says, voice deep, somber. What’s wrong with him? We’ve done this a thousand times in simulation.

“Real life is not a simulation,” I hear Hel’s voice say in my head. “There is blood, sweat, tears. There is fear, both yours and your opponents. You must wade through the fear. It is strong like the tide of the sea. But you must be stronger lest you get swept away.”

I ground myself. Make a plan. Then I see the gold and red armor coming down the passageway. Something inside of me snaps at the sight of the House of my enemy. It’s a feeling that I’ve tamped down for ten years. I run for miles every morning to clear my head of this. Hatred burns within me, a desire for vengeance. There can be no justice for what they did. There is none left.

I burst into the alleyway.

“You there, halt!” The trooper shouts. I brace myself for the impact of his armor. Then an idea flashes across my mind. I act. I leap in the air, kicking off the wall to the right. I use the momentum of the movement to catapult me toward the trooper. I’m seven feet in the air and moving fast. I’m just about to clear his shoulders when I reach out with all my strength and grab his helmet, twisting. I hear a snapping sound. By the time that I’m on the ground, the guard has fallen. One down.

I hear Hel approach behind me. He pushes past me. “Wait!” I whisper yell. Old man is going to get himself killed. Actually, I don’t know how old Hel is. He just sounds old. I watch as he runs out into the clearing, roaring a guttural battle cry.

The Hypaspists turn on him. I go to run out into the clearing to join Hel, but he holds up a hand, telling me to stop. I obey.

“Yield!” Hel shouts. He speaks with more authority than I’ve ever heard before. The Hypaspists begin to close on him, each of them with their weapon extended.

Hel lowers the hood of his cloak, revealing the blue-grey skin of his head. The Hypaspists stop dead when they see his mask.

“Kyrios,” the lead man says, speaking a language that I haven’t heard in at least ten years. I was taught it as a boy by my tutors. Master. He calls Hel master.

“Aveia,” Hel tells them. Leave. They all hesitate, uncertain of what to do. Hel touches his forefinger to the top of his mask. The Hypaspists mimc the gesture with their helmets. Then, he does something I’ve never seen before. Hel lifts his mask up and off of his face. Slag. What’s happening? I still can’t make out his face. He’s facing away from me. The Hypaspists go to their knees. 

“Aveia,” Hel repeats.

“Nai,” the leader says. Yes. I can’t believe it. They actually agreed. I drift forward. I can’t resist any longer. I step out of the shadows into the firelight. It takes at least ten seconds before any of them recognize me.

“To ayópi,” the leader says. The boy. Slag. They recognize me. They all burst to their feet.

Hel gestures wildly, nearly jumping up and down. “Aveia! Aveia!” They no longer listen. Hel’s head snaps back in my direction. For the first time, I see his face. But there is nothing to see. The same blue-grey skin that I’ve seen elsewhere on his body covers his face, covering all of his features, leaving him smooth, featureless. Where there should be nostrils, there is skin. Where there should be a mouth that opens and closes, there is more skin. It’s all pulled taut so that it appears to stretch to the point of breaking when he raises his voice to speak to me.

“Jace, stay put. Let me handle this!” He shouts. I’m too stunned at first by the appearance of his face to speak. The reality of the situation helps me to find my voice.

“It’s nine on one. You’ll need me,” I shout back.

“I will not,” he says simply.

He roars and bursts into action. He charges the lead guard with whom he was speaking. The guard raises his sarissa, but it’s too long to be effective at close range. Hel grabs its end and pulls, reeling in the trooper. Hel’s fist meets the man’s helmet. I’m sure that Hel is about to reel back in pain, but instead the chromium gives. The man goes down with a dent in his helmet.

Hel takes the sarissa. I almost expect him to break it across his leg like he did all those years ago. But, this is a chromium spear. Hel toggles a control at the far end and shortens the spear into a six foot long pike. He activates the spear end and blue plasma energy comes dripping off the spear. The Hypaspists take an involuntary step backwards. Hel gives them no time.

He throws the sarissa like a javelin. It moves with such force that it penetrates the trooper’s armor. Before she can fall, Hel rushes forward, charging her. He grabs the end of the sarissa and drives the dying trooper forward, sarissa jutting out her back. He slams her and the spear into the chest of the nearest trooper. He spasms. Then he goes still. Hel rips out the sarissa.

Six more.

Three of the troopers move against him, each raising their kopis. They toggle it so that it extends to a four foot blade. They swipe at his feet. They move as if they’re reticent, like they don’t want to be doing this, but because they seen me they have to proceed.

Hel swats away their blades. He takes the sarissa in both hands, blocking a blade high. He goes on the offensive. He kicks out with his foot, sweeping the one trooper off his feet. As he goes down, Hel grabs the kopis out of his hand. He dual wields the kopis and the modified sarissa, crashing them together. Sparks fly everywhere.

Hel stomps on the face of the downed trooper. The visor shatters. The helmet dents. The trooper stops moving. Holy slag. I’ve never seen someone display this kind of strength before. Who is this man?

The five remaining troopers encircle Hel. I’m ready to move in. This can’t go on. One man cannot defeat nine Hypaspists. They’re the Aetos elite. They’re blood traitors. They were sworn to my House. 

Hel catches my eye. His blank expression bores into me. His ghoulish face chills me, I can’t lie. He shakes his head no. Slag it all. I didn’t know the Faceless moniker was so on the nose. I also didn’t know that Hel was so stubborn. I obey. I stay rooted to my spot.

The thought crosses my mind for the first time that Hel might die. I feel a sense of grief at the thought. I don’t view Hel as a father. He’s not a brother. He’s…Hel. But he saved my life. I don’t honestly know how to be an adult without him.

Slag it all. I can’t do this. I rush forward. I come to Hel’s side.

“What are you doing Jace?” He says, voice hushed. He’s breathing heavily.

“Jace!” The troopers say, repeating my name over and over again, as if it were a talisman.

“Give me one of those,” I say, impatient.

“No.”

“Give me the kopis.” He hesitates. Then he presses it into my hand. I remember the weight of the blade. But it’s wrong. The shape is wrong. I toggle the handle. The blade shortens and curves forward, taking my family’s shape.

I move quickly. One of the troopers catches my blade as I move to bring it down on his head. I leverage him backwards so that he has to put a hand on the ground to stay up. I slam my blade into his once. Twice. Three times. I let all of my rage out in this one moment. These people killed my parents. This slagging family killed my parents. The trooper’s kopis breaks. I find a weak point in his armor and bury my blade in it, twisting as I pull it out.

I’m out of breath. Four more.

“It is done,” I hear Hel’s voice say. I turn in shock. The remaining four troopers lie on the ground, motionless.

“How did you—,” he doesn’t let me finish.

“It is of no consequence. We must go.”

“Whoa, Hel, we need to talk about this. Your face…”

“It is of no consequence,” he repeats. He picks up his mask from the ground, wiping mud off of it. He slides it back over his face. Then he does something strange. He bends over one of the downed troopers. He pulls off his helmet. I’m shocked at what I see.

“Hel, he’s—,” I start.

“Like me, yes.”

“Did you know this?” I ask.

“That they were my brothers? I suspected. Now I know.”

“Are they…strong…like you?”

“Perhaps.”

“Slag. And they’re after me,” I realize out loud.

“We must get back to our home.”

“Wait,” I say. “I need to find someone.” I walk back into the village. It’s late. The light of Pella’s two moons gives me just enough light to navigate by.

All of this weighs heavily on me. House Aetos has been a theory in my mind for ten years. I’ve grown up resenting their rule, because it is a constant reminder of what they took from me. But tonight has brought House Aetos into reality. I’ve seen their brutality. I know that they are looking for me. What I thought was over feels like it is really only just beginning.

I open the door of the house that I was looking for. It’s never locked. No need to be. The living room is dark. I nearly slip as I step in something wet. I bend down and rub my finger through it. Blood. There’s a trail of it from the front door all the way back to the kitchen, where a soft light glows. I rush forward.

My eyes burn as they adjust to the light of the kitchen. My eyes immediately find her. Burga lays on the ground. There’s shrapnel in her gut. She’s bloody and even in the warm kitchen light, she looks pale. I kneel next to her. I reach out to feel for a pulse. She coughs and her eyes slam open.

“Jace,” she says, voice hoarse, wet.

“It’s okay, I’m here. What do you need? Where does it hurt?” Slag that’s a lot of blood. I pull the com multitool from my belt. I open the scanner and run it over the shrapnel in her gut. Gotta make sure it’s not piercing the aorta before I take it out. It’s not. But it got some of her bowel. She’ll be at risk for sepsis. But she’ll die if I don’t stop this bleeding.

I take off my belt. “Bite down on this,” I tell her. She nods her head yes. I gently pull on the shrapnel until it comes free. Tears streak down Burga’s face but she doesn’t scream.

When I’m done, I press a towel into the wound. She’s still bleeding, too fast for this to be good. My stomach turns.

“Jace, listen to me,” she coughs. She sounds weak. “I know what you are.”

“I don’t know what you—,” she won’t let me finish.

“You’re an Andris.” She says it so plainly, it’s like the whole world has always known.

“How?” I ask dumbly.

“Your friend. His mask. I’ve only seen it once before, in your family’s palace. Listen to me boy. I’ve been lucky in this life. But Pella suffers under the rule of House Aetos. You can change that. You must.” Her voice is weak, but it’s measured.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I say. “Listen, I have to get you out of here, back to our home. I can treat you there, get you stitched up.”

“It’s too late for me Jace.” The strength of her hand holding mine has steadily decreased. “But tomorrow is just the beginning for you. I know you must leave this place. You will never see me again. But remember, live free. Live free. Let everyone live free.”

She’s confusing me. “Burga, listen, it’s only an hour’s walk back home. I can carry you. It’ll be fine. It’s fine,” I choke out, a lump in my throat.

“Child, I am at peace. Let me sleep.”

“But you’re dying,” I protest, batting away tears from my eyes with my free hand.

She laughs weakly. “Yes. That is what I meant. Listen boy. When you came here, you were ten years old and you couldn’t stop crying. Now look at you. You are strong. Brave. You’re the leader that your people need.” Her eyes close gently. Her hand goes slack.

“Burga,” I say, shaking her gently. She breathes deeply, one last rattling breath. And then it’s over. She’s gone.

I break down, sobbing into my hands. I get her blood on my face, but I don’t care. I didn’t realize how much I loved this woman until now. Why am I always too late? She didn’t know how much I cared for her. Did my parents know?

I don’t know what she means, what I could possibly do for the people of Pella. I’m just one man. Not even a man really. I don’t feel like one after today. I feel small, insignificant.

A shadow falls over me. Hel stands in the doorway of the kitchen.

“We must go.”

Chapter 3: Live Free

We make the trek back to our home by moonlight. So much just hangs in the air. But we have no time. House Aetos will know we were here after tonight. We must leave.

The thought saddens me. I’ve only known two homes. The palace was robbed from me. Then I was brought here. The mountains have made me strong. I climb, I run. I’ve grown into my height. I’ve become a man here. I had friends here. Because of us, because of me, they’re all gone.

“Tomorrow, will you tell me what’s going on? When I am a man, will you tell me?” I ask.

“Jace, it is tomorrow,” Hel says, pointing up to the sky. We’ve passed midnight. We’re well into the early morning hours.

“So then talk to me!” I shout. I don’t care if anyone hears us.

“What would you like to know?”

“Everything. Start with why you brought me here. I’ve never understood. Sure, we’re tucked away in the mountains, but I can still see the palace from here.”

“There is something that you don’t know about society Jace. It has been held from you, saved for this day. I have long feared having to tell you.” Hel sounds nervous. I’ve never heard that from him before.

“You know how humans got to Pella, yes?” Hel asks.

“It was thousands of years ago. Four families left Earth, carrying the genetic information for all known life on the planet, to repopulate an exoplanet outside of our galaxy. They would use that genetic information to populate the world with flora and fauna, and to kickstart the new human population. I knew all of this by the time I was ten. They created a new, peaceful society here. They gave people abundance.”

“Look at me though,” he says, taking off his mask. His face is even more disturbing up close. “Do I look human? Do I look like known life on Earth?”

“No.”

“And yet, I am. Human that is.”

“But your face,” I say. “Your strength.”

“There was an accident. The first batch of genetically produced humans came out…flawed. They were deformed. Their features didn’t develop properly. But they were alive! They were technically viable. They couldn’t be disposed of. So they were put to work. The next batch, the geneticists got clever. They manipulated the genome so that the embryo would develop deformities. But, as it grew, it would be incredibly anabolic. It would grow stronger than any other human. Through the centuries, they refined the process, finding synthetic ways to add superhuman strength. The Houses wanted men and women who could be nothing more than servants, who would be perfectly suited for battle, for security. But their deformities would make them outcasts from society.

“They were named the Faceless. They were given the moniker Hel, named for the ancient Greek goddess with the evil visage. They would be branded as outcasts. The people’s renewed interest in the gods would make sure of that,” he says.

“You know I don’t believe in the gods,” I say softly.

“Yes, I know. I am referred to by this moniker because I rose to the rank of leader in your father’s house. I am known by all Hel, by all Faceless.”

“Do you suffer?” I ask.

“No.”

“Do others?”

“Other Hel? No. We were bred for our work. We know nothing else. But there are those that suffer on Pella, Jace.” Hel stops walking, putting his hands on his hips. I’m a couple inches over six feet tall, but Hel has at least nine inches on me. I look up into the spot where his eyes would be.

“Who?” I ask.

“All but those who belong to the families.”

“How can this be possible? My father—.”

“Was a good man. But he was also a creature of his time. He knew no better. But I have spent ten years hoping that when this day came, I could teach you better.” If Hel could cry, I believe he would.

I think about my parents and how House Aetos took them from me. I think about the home that I lost. I look at Burga’s blood that stains my hands and recall her words to me. I still don’t believe that my father could have been naive to the suffering of that many people.

“When it came time to start the great genetic replication to populate Pella, at the order of House Andris, House Aetos, House Drakos, and House Gabris, a biologic chip was placed in the brain to influence the signals that trigger the specialization of stem cells. It would release specific proteins to change the phenotype of the stem cell into an ultra specialized cell. They would use this throughout the centuries to add fingers for laborers who would use tools, add strength, add height, take away height. In the absence of God in their minds, they made themselves god.

“This biologic chip traps people into their specialty. For example, no matter how much a young girl may love music, if she has not been endowed with musical ability, she will never learn to play piano. A welder could never aspire to be a physician. A physician could never aspire to be a writer. Humans are unable to better their own lives. They are slaves in all but name. This is what someone lacking the freedom to choose is, yes?”

I think for a long moment. “Do I not have a chip?” I ask.

“You do not. None of the royal houses are given the chip.”

“If there’s no competition for jobs because of this specialization, that must mean there’s no competitive market. If there's no competitive market, then wages must be—,” Hel holds up his hand to stop me.

“Jace, the Houses have gone past the use of wages. They realized long ago that people were stuck in their roles. They would always have enough doctors, enough sanitation workers, enough cooks, and so forth. It didn’t matter if they paid. So they stopped.”

“How do people eat?” I ask.

“Meager rations.”

“How do you eat?” I ask, as the thought enters my mind.

“Food may pass into my mouth past the skin. It is…porous, unlike your skin.”

“Do you taste?” I ask.

“No.”

“So you do suffer.”

“Jace, people who have had less than I have are suffering. Do you know the average life expectancy for the common man and woman?” Hel grows more serious.

“Eighty?” I guess.

“Thirty five. They can genetically create humans whenever they need. So there’s no need for long lives. When people reach the end of their peak productivity, they are replaced. Even if they have young children.”

“So the Houses are orphaning children?” I ask. “Is this why you think I’ll help you?”

“In part,” Hel confesses.

“I’m confused. Burga was old.”

“That’s why I brought you here Jace. This town was a haven. These people found a black market artificer to remove their biologic chips. They’re free men and women.” Hel says that with reverence.

I think back to Burga’s dying words. They make sense now. Live free. Is that what I’m meant to do? Help the world to live free? “Why did Burga think that I could help? I’m nobody. Not anymore. I have no strength. It’s just you and me. No offense. I know you have superhuman strength and all, but I’m just a man.”

“You are not just a man. Your blood is special. You are the last Andris. You are of age,” Hel says.

“What does that all mean?”

“Your parents left you an inheritance, not in money, not in property, but in blood. There is a master control for the chips. They built one in so that they could mass manipulate the populace. But, it can also disable the chips, rendering them obsolete. In the blink of an eye, the whole system could be changed. The plumber who has seven fingered hands could become a virtuoso piano player. The markets could regulate. People could live normal lifespans.”

“Even you?”

“No, not me,” Hel says. “I am…too far gone. I am not controlled by a chip. I am this way by the sheer power of genetic manipulation. This is my fate. I have made peace with that long ago.”

“And you still want to help?” I ask.

“It is the warrior way to be empathetic. And…I have a wife. And a child. I was taken from them. I desire to see them again.”

“I didn’t know Hel. I’m sorry. I’ll get you to them, but I feel like there’s more to this,” I say.

“The master control is activated by the blood of a military aged member of House Andris and House Aetos.”

“So I’d have to work with them?” I say, stunned. 

“There are other ways to get blood,” Hel says.

“Oh, so I just have to kill one of them, drag his body over to the machine, and slap his hand on it?”

“Yes.”

“I see.” I say. “Have you been rehearsing this for ten years?”

“Yes,” Hel says.

“Do you have a real name, besides Hel?” I ask.

“I…do not remember it,” he says. “I was assigned a number at conception. My nurse maid gave me a name. But no one used it. Only the number. So it was forgotten.”

“Well, if I do nothing else, I’ll find you your name Hel,” I say. My mind is spinning. My view of the world has been wrong for my whole life. How could I be so blind? How could my parents do this willingly?

I don’t know what to do. I love Hel. I loved Burga. This is what they would want me to do. I hate the Aetos. This is what that would have me do. But I’m so small. I’m not a man, not really.

“Jace, whatever you decide, I’ll never leave you. I swore myself to your father. I wasn’t there for him and your mother, but I will be for you.” Hel rests his hand on my shoulder.

“Can I ask you something Hel?”

“Yes.”

“Why couldn’t you save Thalia? I seen what you did to those men. You’re easily a match for at least ten men.”

“You would have been lost,” he says simply.

“It was me or her then?”

“Yes.”

I want to be mad. She was my best friend. She was better than me, pure. She was just a little girl. She didn’t deserve to die. But I can’t be mad. Hel is a father. He understands what it’s like to lose a child, to never see them again. I trust that he did what he did because it was the only choice.

“We must go,” he says.

I gaze up at the moons. I look at how the mountains catch their light. I feel the stones of the path under my feet. See the darkness off in the distance where the cliff drops off. I can taste the snowflakes that fall from the sky and land on my tongue. This was my second home. There’s nothing left here. Time for some rest. We leave in the morning.