The Emperor spoke. God spoke. “My children, my glorious children, do you see the world?” from where he stood, Plato could hardly see Aivor, and he stood on the tips of his toes trying to get a better look. The man held out an arm, palm up, outstretched, fingers curled toward the sky, as he made his declaration. “After all these years, do you still seethe with resentment for all that the Desert took from us, the world it crushed?”

“Yes!” Plato shouted, in unison with all the others.

“Do you still wish to bring glory to the world again, to make it green and bright?”

“Yes!” the shout was accompanied by the smashing of spears into the plaza stones, the clash of metal-booted feet.

“And do you see the pathetic outside? The way the people of this new world live, without honor, without glory? Scattered and broken, and in love with their brokenness?

“Do you wish for the world to be strong?”

The emperor’s proclamation went on. “You are the young, strong soldiers of the Invictan Empire, veterans and trainees alike. You are my greatest servants, the only force that truly carries the will of God to the world, at the tip of the spear and in the barrel of the rifle, to prepare it for the growth that will come. But there are those who do not wish for this growth to commence. Many who do not want the gift our green land can bestow on them. And foremost among them, the murderous coalition Mirshal, soldiers of the apocalypse. To our north and to our south they are working to keep the world in its state of long apocalypse. You, my great warriors, you will find these creatures and you will bring them to heel, for the good of the whole world!”

“Yes!” the shout went up again.

“This world is a shadow of its former self, but we will show it the sun!”

Aleks, not knowing why he spoke, or how he spoke through this incorporeal vision, shouted, though his words were lost in the crowd of cheers: “Is it not better to live proudly in a shadow than die on your knees in the sun?” He felt heat rise in his face – the absurdity of this! The words felt forced, and as soon as

No one heard him in the chorus of ear-splitting assenting cheers.

And yet…

A thread of mist rolled from the Emperor. Aivor I, first of his line, Host – the mist spoke to Aleks as it came nearer him, telling him things, telling him of the empire and its plans and its ambitions for the world. The mist spoke of the return of Glory and of the world’s salvation.

The mist touched Aleks, and his mind split from Plato, who disappeared somewhere into the crowd, out of Aleks’ awareness. He should have returned then to the cave, to the distant light from the outside and the echoing drips of water. Instead, the Emperor came to the edge of his platform and stared down, balefully, at Aleks. He felt the eyes on him like they were the tips of twin steel spears, cleaving his head from above.

“Sower,” the Emperor said.

“Do you think the future will protect you from me?” The voice was quiet, and soft as silk, and Aleks had no trouble hearing it through the storm of clanging metal and the avalanche of excited shouts, of declarations of loyalty, of love, of devotion. “Your way is the way of the weak, and all your high-minded ideals are doomed to fail in the end, for you limit yourself in the name of what you arrogantly call ‘goodness’. This pathetic world. This foolish endeavor to separate the earth from its own essence. You have forgotten the one great truth of human nature: strength always prevails.”

Aleks felt the ghosts of hands clutching at his shoulders, pulling him away from the crowd. Ignoring the sensation of being dragged, steeling himself against the fear and the hurt, Aleks loosened his grip on the weave, pulled tight the threads, and let go of the Sower’s gift.

He was back in the cavern, breathing quick and shallow. Sometime in his trance he’d turned, staring now into the pitch blackness further into the cave. Plato Arap was gone. Emperor Aivor was gone. He had never truly been on that plaza, and it had all happened years ago anyway, a time when Aleks hadn’t even possessed the Sower’s gift.

Aleks moved then, further into the cave, until he found an alcove to hide in away from the main path down the pass and up toward Kivv, and he listened to the echoing of the water dripping from above, and felt for the barest rays of light from the outside, a distant warmth that never quite touched…

Aleks awoke some time later, the tightness in his chest long faded. Grief weighed on his shoulders, but he found that he could move with little trouble in spite of it. The adrenaline was gone, and his stomach was growling fiercely. He stepped out of his alcove, inched toward the entrance.

Outside, Etyslund was quiet. There was little activity to be felt on the old paths, no one out harvesting in the fields and the orchards, and only a few shuffling about in the common. Aleks reached out and felt the attention of the soldiers waning. He looked up – the sun, near its zenith, caused him to cover his eyes with a hand and left him unable to distinguish one house from another. He looked to the orchard in the distance. Perhaps a few minutes to run there and back again, and he could quell his hunger for a while. Then he could figure out what to do next.

Aleks ran.

After he had retrieved some fresh red and golden apples from the orchard, returning to the mouth of the cave with his cargo bundled in an old discarded leather bag, Aleks returned to the alcove and sat down, eating the first apple in minutes. In his time under the sun he’d seen no one but the distant figures of soldiers, too far off and too unfocused to notice him dashing past, retrieving food. And if they had seen him, they likely didn’t care enough to look for him. The people of Etyslund, though, were out of sight – in their homes, where they had some hope of not being bothered by the soldiers.

He thought the worst of the weight was off his shoulders, but hours later, Aleks cried himself to sleep again.

He awoke to the sound of another human being’s crying; and the sound was getting closer.

Aleks flattened himself against the back wall of the alcove, keeping the bag of apples just next to him in the shadows, where it might blend in. after seconds, he realized that he couldn’t hope to rely on the sparse light from outside to see whoever was approaching, and so he closed his eyes, and reached out to weave the Veil, to find the nodes of leaking mist.

Kamila!

Hilda!

His eyes snapped open and he peered into the darkness – two silhouettes moved towards him, shining softly. It was not until they came much closer that he realized Kamila was holding up a light with one hand. Aleks nearly stepped out to greet his sisters, and then he saw. He cowered further into the alcove, held his breath, and listened to Kamila’s footsteps as she carried the bloody and battered Hilda over her shoulders down the cavernous pass.

Hilda, who was speaking quietly between shaking sobs.

Hilda, asking the same question again and again.

Why did you betray me?

When his sisters were many minutes past, Aleks finally let himself breathe, and picked up the bag of apples. They were headed to Kivv. He was headed to Kivv. He walked out from his hiding place and followed the distant reflections of Kamila’s light. Each time he nearly came in view of them, he stopped, letting them pass further. If Kamila turned around, she would see only the blank walls of the cavern.

Some time later, they emerged into the early-morning light. How long had it been? Three days, Aleks thought with little certainty, three days since the soldiers killed his mother.

Two weeks to Kivv.

Two weeks back, if help came quickly.

Aleks Zelenko swallowed his shame and stepped out into the day, onto the road to Kivv.