Chapter Seven

The world of Centaurs

- Chimera

The ache in my bones will not leave me. I stretch from side to side, groaning as my muscles protest, but the stiffness clings to me like a curse. My eyes blur as I stare at the rocky horizon before me. Fifty years ago, I would have seen it all-the sweep of the plains, the rolling mountains, valleys stitched green with life. Now a thin film clouds my sight, dimming the edges of the world I once claimed as mine.

But blindness does not rob me of memory. I close my eyes and call forth the land as I knew it-wild, untamed, magnificent. I can still taste the air of those first days, when Centaurs rose from dust and claimed what was barren. My chest tightens with both pride and grief.

I do not need my eyes to know life surrounds me. The songs of birds weave with the shrill cries of insects. The fragrance of wheat and straw clings to the wind, ripe and golden. I open my arms wide, as though I could pull the land into my chest and hold it there forever. For a moment, I allow myself to smile-an old man's fragile, fleeting smile.

Then it shatters.

"Come on, you lazy vagabonds, carry those bricks! They won't lift themselves!"

The bellow cuts the air like a whip. My smile falls.

"You absolute wretches! Layer the bricks, gazunnit, layer them!"

My heart sinks. Chini. My son. My curse.

I cannot stand idle. I make my way down the rocks, hands groping, hooves steady even when my eyes fail me. Each step grinds the ache deeper into my body, but I force myself down, because I know the sound of a raised cane when I hear it.

And there he is. My son. My blood. His posture stiff, his jaw locked in arrogance, his eyes glittering with disdain. The cane in his hand slices the air, ready to fall on the backs of men already crushed by stone.

"Please." My voice carries before I can stop it. "Leave us. I would speak with my son alone."

The workers obey, hooves scuffing the ground as they vanish behind boulders, grateful for reprieve. Dust rises in their wake.

Chini turns on me, eyes burning with fury. "Why would you do that, Father? Why humiliate me before the men?" He thrusts his arm out, the thin bracelet on his wrist glinting like an accusation. "Why reduce me to nothing?"

I look at him and my heart breaks, not for the first time. There is an ugliness in him, one that has grown unchecked, twisting into something I barely recognize. I had hoped it was a boy's temper, that time and training would smooth it away. I was wrong.

"Walk with me, son." I force calm into my tone, pasting on a smile that feels brittle.

He glares, his jaw clenched tight. Dust rises from his deliberate strides as he moves ahead, making me cough as I trail after him. My chest burns. Age is a cruel companion, but I catch up. Together we stand before the rising sun, silence stretching taut between us.

"These lands," I begin, my voice heavy with memory, "were barren before we made them ours. Do you realize-"

"Another history lesson?" His scoff slices me open. "Is this why you dragged me out here? To bore me with tales of wasted lands?"

"They are not wasted. They are yours to inherit, as is the people. They are-"

"I knew this was a mistake." He throws his arm back, gesturing toward the half-built structure behind us. "That-that matters. Not this father-son bonding you insist on."

My anger flares hot and fast. "I thought your cruelty was a passing phase, Chini. I thought discipline and age would teach you better. I was wrong." My voice cracks. "I do not know you anymore."

He laughs then. Loud. Mocking. His head thrown back, his stomach heaving with mirth. Tears glisten in the corners of his eyes before he wipes them away and looks at me with a sneer.

"Wicked streak, Father? You call taking charge wicked? Look around you." His tone is sharp, unrelenting. "Someone must be firm. Someone must drag us into the future while you cling to the past. You're weak. A weak, old man. Loved, yes. Obeyed, yes. But when you're gone?" His smile sharpens into something cruel. "I will be the one to lead them. To make them sit up. To carve our empire from this idleness."

The sun flames gold against his face, gilding the malice in his eyes.

And then he says it. The words that twist my blood cold.

"The ruler of the underground Creep sent emissaries yesterday."

I freeze. Rage. That foul, blood-drinking monster.

"He wants to conquer the wolf kingdoms, the earthlings, the golems, the Oni-everyone. He wants the galaxy, Father." Chini shrugs as though he speaks of the weather. "Foolhardy, yes. Blood alone cannot command obedience. But he has an ace."

Fear coils in my gut. My breath stutters. "Why are you telling me this now? Why even speak of it, if you despise my counsel?"

"Because I'm interested in him." His eyes glint. "I'm interested in siding with Rage."

"You dare not! I forbid you!" My body shakes with fury and dread. I force air into my lungs, force myself to steady. "Rage is no man. He is vile. A creature-"

"A creature?" Chini laughs harshly. "So are you. So am I. We are Centaurs. Born to conquer. Do not delude yourself with half-man softness."

"We do not drink blood," I rasp. "That alone sets us apart."

"Perhaps," he concedes after a pause, his gaze thoughtful. "But together, we would-"

"When?" My voice is steel. "You speak as though the decision is yours. It is not. Until these men are yours, they remain mine. You will not touch them again. I've assigned Azayi to oversee the workers. See that you obey."

I turn from him, my heart thundering. I am done with soft words. I am done with indulging the boy his mother spoiled. He is no longer a child. He is a danger.

As I walk away, the ache in my chest deepens, heavier than age, heavier than bone.