text: “...and the first will bring the Light, and the second the Strength. Then Darkness will fall upon the crest of day and there will be a third and she will be the Foretold.” He spoke her name in whispers even inside his head, in the night which was her namesake. He heard it in the rolling waves of the sea beyond his window as if she murmured it to him across the water. I’m here. Don’t forget me. How could he? She came to him in dreams, in quiet moments. He felt her in the power which thrummed between his palms. They said it was she who held him back, who prevented him from realizing his full potential. His brother cursed her in these moments, blaming her for the impediment he knew they both felt. But no matter how their brother scorned her, Leon could not summon his twin’s ire. He scoffed at this word, his head falling back against the window casing where he sat as he did every night looking out at the lonely water. The Twins. The Kings. The Ones Who Were Chosen. There were dozens of names for them. He and his brother were celebrated across the land, toasted in taverns and prayed to in dark moments. As if he could somehow hear their silent words, as if the manner of his birth could save their dying child. Luca certainly seemed to think so. His brother, The Firstborn, The Bringer of Light, took to his role with the bravado of royalty, though his right had yet to be bestowed. Always stronger, always faster, always more cunning and ruthless. He had found his power ages before Leon, ignoring the gnawing ache that accompanied. Leon always wondered if he felt it as strongly, if his brother felt the repercussions of tapping into the source of their power. If he knew that she was the source of their power. For Leon had felt it, that first time, standing at the edge of the water, letting it bubble over his feet, his face screwed up in concentration, his body weary and spent from the hours of training he’d been put through that day. But even as the sun sank toward the horizon, his brother would not allow him to quit. “Try again.” “I can’t, we both know I can’t.” “You have to,” Luca snapped. “We are the only ones who can. How do you not understand that? How can you give up so easily? How can you let them starve, let them die, when you know that you could help them if you only tried?” “I am trying.” “Then try harder. Come now. Again.” Leon breathed deep of the salty brine, filled his lungs with it. He let the sound of the waves surround him, the cool breeze playing across his skin, raising his dark hair. He murmured the words given to him by The Ancients, the words which had been meant for him. On a whim, he thought of her. He thought of the music she sent him through the wind, of her laughter in the sway of the trees. He thought of the one word which was forbidden. The rush he’d felt was so strong he’d nearly toppled over. The air burst from his chest, an intense rushing sound filling his ears, his mouth, his pores. He saw the light which gathered between his palms, felt the heat, the power. Feel me, she said. I’m here. He laughed, reaching out, filled with the most euphoric sense of joy. The sounds of his brother’s elation faded beneath the voice of their sister, a voice which he had heard only in dreams. And then the exhilaration melted, twisting into pain, into fear, the anguish so intense his eyes filled, his heart constricting. Don’t forget me. Please. Save me. Leon fell back with a cry. He hadn’t even realized he’d hit the sand until his vision cleared and Luca was kneeling over him, grinning with pride. “Don’t worry, little brother,” Luca said, using the endearment though they were born within the same hour. “It won’t be so hard next time.” “Did you hear her?” Luca’s face darkened. “Hear whom?” Leon almost said her name, the syllables on his tongue, begging to burst forth. His brother rose. “Cast her away,” he warned. “She is a siren; she seeks to lure us into freeing her so she can steal our power. We must not be tempted, brother. We must stay strong for our people.” “She’s so alone,” Leon gasped, staring up into his brother’s darkening face. “And that she must stay. You know the prophecy as well as I. You needed the connection to tap into your power, but never use it near the water again lest she pulls you in. Cast her aside, brother, and keep your eyes on your purpose.” Leon could still hear her, feel her, and rubbed the ache at the base of his skull. “Did you hear her too?” Luca seemed to be debating whether or not to answer him. He rose and watched the sun sink below the ocean’s edge. Then spat in it. “I curse her existence every day.” “But without her we would not be.” Luca turned back towards their house, the grand mansion towering on the cliffs which had been bestowed upon them on the day of their birth. “The only reason I haven’t set fire to the sea.” . . . It was said that night fell the moment she was born, though it was high noon on the longest day of the year. Luca had been brought into the world at the break of dawn and Leon shortly after. Their mother had labored for hours with their sister, The Ancients descending upon the brothel where she struggled. They did not step foot inside; they did not intervene. The first triplets brought forth in centuries and yet they refused to lay a hand on the tiring woman. The townspeople gathered at the doors, filling the streets, praying to The Ancients. Women surrounded the nameless vagrant who screamed into the morning, urging her on. Men crippled their horses in their eagerness to share the news. And when she came, when that baby girl shouted her first cry into the world, the sky fell and all were bathed in darkness. The Ancients took the babe from her lifeless mother’s breast and brought the three of them to the very shore where Leon had found his power. There, they sealed the girl beneath the waves and marked the brothers as gods. The boys had grown together, learned together, carried their burden together. Leon could feel his brother in his bones, in his power. His brother never waned in their training, his hand always there to help Leon off the floor, his words always encouraging. “All will be well, brother,” he could hear Luca say in their difficult moments. “Trust in us. Trust in me.” When scores of desperate mothers and troubled farmers came to their step it was Luca who met them at the door, kneeling on the ground with them, his eyes closed as he placed a hand on their head, whispering words of healing. Then Luca would lift his eyes. “Help me, brother. I cannot do this without you.” And every time Leon would kneel. And every time he would speak the silent words. Help me, sister. I cannot do this without you. He never knew if their spells alleviated their burdens, if their prayers to The Ancients were ever answered, but the people who left looked lighter, their suffering eased if only for a moment, so he told himself that they helped. Now Leon wondered, in this darkest moment before the dawn, what those people would pray for when this terrible morning rose. He wondered what they would say as they bowed over their measly gruel, as they knelt before their paltry mattresses. Did they wish his sister dead, as his brother did? Did they wish to ban an innocent girl to eternal perdition to relieve their aching bellies? He scowled at the dark ocean, watching the waves crash against the shore. Of course they did. He wasn’t even sure if he could blame them. He’d never felt hunger, never felt true cold or fear, but he saw it in their eyes, in the eyes of his people. And only he could ease their suffering. For at the break of dawn on this day, the day of his twenty-fifth birthday, his coming of age, he would join his brother at their sister’s prison and together they would consume her power, banish her from this earth. With her exile the fields would become fertile once more, the wars between lands would cease, and peace would reign. Leon felt his brother approach. Luca didn’t need doors to enter a room. “You’re listening to her.” Leon said nothing. “You know she lies, little brother.” “I know.” “As do you.” Leon turned. His brother seemed older than he had yesterday, the lines of his face deeper somehow. Though seemingly identical, Leon could see small differences in the tilt of his dark eyes, in the small pinch at the corner of his brother’s mouth. A look of fettered disapproval. “I understand you’ve always struggled with our task,” he said softly, joining him at the window, looking out at the sea, at the waves which held their sister so tightly. “We’ve been burdened with the hardest choice a man can make. But we must. You know we must.” Leon sighed, looking down at his hardened hands, his fingers curling as if he could hold her there. “I know.” Luca’s hand came to his shoulder as always and he could feel the warmth his brother radiated for him, only for him. The strength he gave to his disappointing little brother. Luca’s fingers tightened. “You’ve never disappointed me,” he said softly, reading him as always. “I know you think I do not feel what you do...but it’s not true. I feel her. I know she’s the reason why I have these powers. But she’s also the reason why we must destroy her.” “Why?” Leon asked, saying out loud what he had always felt. “Why must she be the cost?” “Because she is that which holds back the Light,” Luca said, reciting the Foretold. “We are not the first to make this sacrifice. The Ancients willing, however, we will be the last.” Leon knew this. He knew the words. He knew the stories. The Archaic Triads. Two boys and a girl. The men giving their sisters, as was prophesied, to obtain the entirety of their powers. To ease their aching lands. The men’s powers would eventually wane over hundreds of years, their voices growing dim until they were no more. They would rise then to the peaks of Mount Vis where they would live out their days as The Ancients, watching over the earth until the next Triad appeared. “Why us?” Leon sighed. Luca’s hand tightened. “So that it does not have to be others.” Leon knew the weight Luca carried was even heavier as the Firstborn. Maybe he even heard her as intensely as Leon did, but he never let it show because this was his task, what he had been burdened with at his first breath. No matter how stern he’d had to be, Luca had always been at Leon’s side, had always eased his way, shouldering the responsibilities thrust upon them. He’d always been the strong one, even though it was supposed to be Leon’s duty. “I need you now, brother,” Luca breathed, meeting his eye. “I cannot do this without you.” Don’t forget me. I won’t. Save me. I can’t. . . . Leon watched from the cliffs as his people came, in carts, in wagons, in droves. They filled the beach, every inch of it. He could feel their eyes gazing up at him expectantly, pleadingly. Though thousands of bodies gathered not a single voice spoke, for it was known that words belonged only to The Twins that day. As the sky lightened his stomach twisted. He tried to focus on the screeching of the gulls, on the frothy waves as they fell upon each other, but his dread mounted. Luca’s hand came to his shoulder once more, pressing calm upon him. Breathe, brother. All will be well. The people parted, some with their heads bent, others with their hands clasped, as a dozen robed figures descended upon the sand. They wore red as a mark of their penance, the color he would bear from this day on. The Ancients, The Silent Ones, the ones who had given their kin for the sake of their people. Leon watched as they neared the water and knew he would do the same one day, leading the way for two young men to mark their atonement and embrace their prophecy. The Ancients lined up at the water, leaving a gap between them. Six on one side. Six on the other. Six Firstborns. Six Strength-Bringers. Twelve former men who had paid the highest price for their powers. Luca’s hand fell. The Silent Ones raised their eyes to where The Twins stood upon the cliffs. In the space of a breath they joined The Ancients at the waterline. As promised, Leon had not used his power near the ocean again and could feel the reason as the waves tugged at his core, pulling him in. He fought it, turning to his brother who looked similarly distraught. The Oldest One stood before Luca. Though a head shorter, power radiated off him. His hood concealed most of his face, but Leon could see that the skin was white as snow, pulled tight across his bones. His leathery hands rose to Luca’s shoulders and Leon felt a stab of trepidation that was not his own. The Strength-Bringer took the Firstborn’s hand. Then his brother’s voice rose upon the wind. “...and so it is known that the Light shall cast out the Dark, for the First will bring the Last and at last the End of the Night. So it is writ; so it shall be Foretold.” As dawn broke, Luca dropped his hand and stepped forth into the sea. He convulsed, the water swirling and rising, bubbling as the waves grew. Leon could hear the gasps of fear behind him, but he had eyes for naught but his brother. Luca fell to his knees and Leon could hear his sobs as the Bringer of Light brought his hands to the waves. The Oldest One stepped aside. Leon shuddered as The Strongest One stood before him, lifting his weathered hands to his shoulders. He felt a shock of power filling him, felt it thrumming in his blood, fierce, beyond anything he’d ever felt before. Beneath it, however, was something else, something simmering, cold and sharp. Regret. Leon met The Strongest One’s eyes. They were nearly white; everything he’d ever been, every hope and ambition and memory washed away through time. Not everything. Leon started, then cried out as the image of a girl with golden curls filled his mind. He felt an overwhelming sadness break over him. Fulfill your prophecy. The image was gone the moment The Strongest One stepped away, but the feeling remained. A sorrow which clung to his bones, weighing on his vocal cords. Luca was still on his knees in the water, his body quaking. “Please, brother,” he grated out, and Leon knew he suffered. Please, brother. Her voice shook Leon to his core. “...and so the Second would bring Strength to the First and to his Mother, for she could not bring the Dark without him. And he would bear the Dark upon him and together they will End the Night. So it is writ; so it shall be Foretold.” Leon looked down at his shaking hands, could feel the meager power within them, knew that if he could only have the strength to shoulder this burden he would have powers beyond his wildest imaginings. The people behind him would never again go without food, without shelter or medicine. “Brother,” Luca groaned, and Leon knew the Lightbringer could not do this without him. He had to bear the Dark so his brother could cast it out. He stepped into the sea. The water raged, filling him with the dominion of the earth and he could hear it breathe, hear every soul speak, every mountain sigh, every tree dance. He felt it all and beneath it, felt the Dark - cold, cruel, evil. He felt it rise and when he lifted his eyes she was there. His sister stood before Luca in the roiling sea, her black hair billowing in the wind, her eyes, so like theirs, full of anguish. He felt what The Strongest One had shown him. Leon stepped forward and his hands no longer shook. They were wrong, he told his siblings. They’ve been wrong this whole time. Leon please, Luca begged him, his face streaked with tears. Do not listen for she lies! She can’t lie, brother, for she has never spoken. They took that from her, from all of them. Their eyes met and understanding crashed over him. ...and the third would bring the Dark and with the Dark, the Night. And the Dark would have a name and the name, once spoken, would be the Beginning of the End. So it is writ; so it shall be Foretold. They were wrong. She wasn’t the End. She was the Beginning. Leon placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder. Then held out the other. As her cool fingers slid into his, the Dark thundered to life and Night fell. “Layla.”