They came in the night, more rapid and numerous than expected. Chonib felt it was only yesterday that someone named Otto slithered forward and was unsatisfied about his tiny territory. He turned out to be very unsatisfied.

She thought they had time. That many villages still separated them and the Empire of Otto, like a shield, but all those settlements had already been swallowed by the murderous snakes.

And yes, swallowed was the right word.

Otto’s army raged through her village now. Homes fell, splintered or choked to dust, and not all villagers fled in time. Piles of wood were burned. The flames mixed with the faint moonlight and revealed the terrifying faces of their attackers.

The male villagers grabbed weapons and tried to push back the deadly flood. A herd of scared cows, goats and camels, however, was nothing but ripe for slaughter.

If Otto could even attack here … then his empire might occupy half the world soon!

Chonib, a brown bear, saw the events unfold from her balcony. She sat there and painted, seemingly deaf to the screams and the destruction. Her entire village had been flattened before the moon could even change positions in the sky. Any survivors shivered in the dark, close to each other for warmth and support.

Otto looked up, eyeing the moon himself. Tonight she was half full, sparkling but not perfectly white. He followed the crescent dot in the sky for a while, then smiled with satisfaction, as if he’d asked the moon a question and received an answer.

“You are fortunate,” the gigantic viper hissed. “The moon asks for forgiveness this night. You now belong to the Empire of Otto. Rebuild your city and pay me tribute every month, and you will enjoy—”

Suddenly Otto looked to the side and up. He noticed Chonib for the first time, as she calmly continued painting.

“Come down! At once!” he screamed. “Or I will cut your head off!”

Chonib pretended not to hear. The painting was almost done, and it was shaping up to be one of her best. Her bear paws danced over the canvas as she held multiple brushes between her fingers.

Otto slithered into her home, up the stairs, to the balcony. His weight tested the strength of the wooden supports and sent gravel to the floor. He spread his fangs and prepared for a venomous bite into Chonib’s side.

The entire world turned dark. Not figuratively. Not Chonib’s world. The actual world.

Otto froze.

Chonib placed her final brush strokes and sighed with satisfaction.

“I see you have much to learn about Moonreading,” she spoke calmly.

And indeed, after waiting a few seconds, the moon left her hiding place and illuminated the world once more. The dense clouds that covered her moved on.

Otto stared at the painting. Chonib had painted the moon perfectly, exactly as she looked this night, each detail and color immaculate.

His guards reached the balcony too, certain this beautiful bear had some enchanted or bewitched him. Why else wasn’t she dead yet?

Otto hissed for them to keep their distance.

“Is that so, pretty lady? What else does the moon say tonight?”

Chonib locked eyes with Otto for the first time. Fiery eyes. Poisonous eyes. No wonder his Empire grew rapidly. She had to calm herself and gather all her strength to not cower before his gaze.

“That you must accept me, Chonib Halfmoon, as your advisor,” she said with a faint smile.

Otto circled her. He could grab her and choke her at any time, at any sound or word he didn’t like.

“You’re making this up,” he growled.

Chonib shook her head. She used the other end of her brush to point at five small freckles on the moon.

“This one clearly states that your empire is growing rapidly and you need my help. This one clearly states that Moonreading will be essential to your success. And if you turn these spots into letters, you get my name.”

She stood and gathered even more strength for what she was about to say.

“I don’t want to work for you, Otto. You just burned my village to the ground. But the Moon tells me I must.”

It was a guess. The Moon did not say any of this. She did say that Otto cared about power and war, but also honor and duty and art. By pretending to do this against her own wishes, she hoped he would accept. It was all according to her own plan, of course, so she could—

Her gamble paid off. Otto nodded and smiled.

“From now on, Chonib is my adviser and my Highest Moonreader,” he declared loudly. “She has my protection and belongs to the royal household now.”

They led her away from her village. Snake guards pushed her into a desert sled pulled by camels. Otto himself traveled in a far more luxurious sled, accompanied by his three sons. The probably discussed how to terrorize the next handful of villages.

Had she made the right choice? She shivered and closed her eyes. Too late to backtrack now. In a few hours, Otto’s palace would be her new home—could it ever feel like a home? It felt like visiting a prison cell and she already longed for her cozy balcony again. Her first inquiry would be to buy an endless supply of brushes and paint to—

An explosion.

The wreckage of Otto’s vehicle flew into Chonib’s sled. Dust clouds hid the rising sun and turned the yellow desert into a grey blur. Guards yelled for Otto, extinguished fires, and searched for any remains.

Chonib looked on from a distance. The Moon hadn’t told her any of this! She told her that Otto would protect her for a while! Was she a far worse Moonreader than she thought? Had she—

The dust clouds finally evaporated into a clear blue sky. Otto’s sled was completely destroyed. Both him and his sons were nowhere to be found, but Chonib also couldn’t spot any dead bodies.

They couldn’t keep searching and waiting. Whoever caused the attack could still be close, and so they raced back to the palace in confusion and haste.

Once there, nobody knew what to do with Chonib. In the end, she was placed on a pillow in the throne room and commanded to stay there and await further commands.

As the day continued, more and more animals entered the room with her. In all their conversations, one whisper kept floating to her ears.

Otto is dead.

“Are you sure?” Chonib then asked, but nobody found her worthy of a reply.

Until the throne room was flooded with animals and Chonib pushed against the wall to make space. Everyone formed a guard of honor for a new visitor: a prince. A son of Otto.

He zigzagged inside. His tough snake skin revealed large wounds and exhaustion. His eyes were red and irritated from crying.

“Not to worry,” he said gruffly. “Reliable sources have confirmed that our previous leader is no more. That means that I, Aratto, have become the new leader. The Empire of Otto remains strong as always!”

Then two more visitors appeared: the other two princes. Not as wounded and exhausted, but for angrier. The three princes barely differed in age, size or power, for they were triplets. They even wore the same clothing as all sultans: a long white cloth wrapped around their head as if an oversized onion grew there.

“Nonsense!” Britto screamed. “All of us are the same age!”

Aratto had already positioned himself on the throne. Because this empire was ruled by snakes, this was not a chair but a nest covered in leaves and twigs.

“I left mother’s womb first. I am oldest. Ask any of the witnesses.”

Those witnesses already stepped forward, as if it was rehearsed, but Crotto pushed them back. “Otto has never written down who should succeed him. He never had time for it.”

Arrato screamed in frustration. “And so we follow the same rules that all the other empires follow. The eldest son follows his father.”

Bitto leapt forward, his mouth wide open. Aratto barely dodged the attack. The brothers twisted around each other, grabbing and choking with their immense bodies, but never fully incapacitating the other.

Crotto cursed both of them, standing in the middle of the throne room. “Childish nonsense! Otto is dead! The last thing we want is more chaos and more—”

Aratto reached a favorable position and bit his brother. Bitto whined and left the fight, slithering to a dark corner of the room. Crotto’s eyes narrowed, his body ready to enter the fight now.

“We share the empire. Each son gets one third,” Crotto tried.

“Aratto attacks his own family members,” Bitto said. “Jail him and make me your leader!”

“I am the leader, following all the rules that everyone knows,” Aratto said. “And I command the army to kill my brothers, the traitors!”

Everyone turned around to leave the room at once. The guards that were left behind looked at each other, shuffling in place. After nervous whispers and exchanged glances, they sided with Aratto and moved to seize the other princes.

Chonib was the only witness to what followed.

Once Aratto notice, he stuck out his lengthy tongue and pointed at her. “Give … give her to the bears or something, as … a gift from their new leader, to use as they wish.”

“Excuse me?”

Otto had promised to protect her. But Otto was no more.

As tears streamed down her face, snake skin closed around her like handcuffs that fit her entire body. She lacked the power to fight back as they dragged her from the room. No, she made the wrong choice, this would never be her home—

Once outside, they bumped into a very large snake who was very angry. He instantly pulled Chonib out of her snake chains and pushed her to a safe place.

“I will kill the traitor who spread the rumor that I was dead,” Otto yelled.

That wasn’t even his most shocking statement, for he followed it up with:

“From now on, all our laws and rules are gone, including who gets the throne if I die. Forget everything. From this day forward, I will invent completely new rules for our empire.”

When Enra noticed Otto’s ships in the distance, he wished that his parents would’ve just remained Bear-Shepherds. They would’ve fled as soon as they saw Ottojon—the new name for the Empire of Otto—grow bigger and bigger. Then they would not have been the target of some new system that Otto had invented out of the blue.

After the fall of Amor to the hands of the Barbarians, that Empire flawlessly transitioned into the new Traferia. After years of growth, conquest and crusades … Traferia en Ottojon bumped into each other and space had run out.

Unfortunately, Enra’s village lay precisely on the line where the two empires met.

Traferia had a fleet, sure. They probably also had some cannonballs, but never even had the chance to use them. Everyone knew the oceans belonged to Ottojon. When storms reigned, their ships were the only ones to safely sail through them. But when Traferia tried to pillage Ottojon’s shore line in broad daylight, a whirlpool would suddenly appear and swallow their fleet!

And so Enra’s village shrugged and let Ottojon and his armies walk in. By now, they’d learned to leave the homes untouched, otherwise they’d waste resources rebuilding everything. Enra thought they should’ve realized this sooner and was generally unimpressed by the intelligence of conquerors.

All boy animals were put into one group. Otto circled them as if he wanted to pick the tastiest snack first. Enra’s father, a large bear named Himnib, glared at the snake and gripped his magical walking cane more tightly.

“And they are all Krystans?”

Otto’s soldiers nodded.

“Is it not enough that you take our lands?” Himnib screamed. “Must you take our children too? You’re becoming arrogant. Overconfident! It will be your downfall!”

Otto found this amusing. “We are nearly as large as Traferia, little bear. Surely you see how we will have the entire world in a few centuries?”

Enra feared this was not an overconfident statement. Their rule over the oceans made Ottojon both rich—thanks to trade—and impossible to conquer. Any other empire would have collapsed on itself if they suddenly tried to rewrite all the rules, but Ottojon only seemed to have grown stronger since then.

“Enough chatter,” Otto hissed. “That one, that one, him, him, and yes, that one too. The others are too weak or too stubborn—kill them.”

All parents ran for their children in a futile attempt to pull them to their chest. Otto was merciless. If he could not take boys for his new system, they were worthless or even dangerous to him.

Only now, Enra realized he’d been chosen too.

Himnib immediately pointed his walking cane and shot a powerful spell towards Otto. The snake twisted into a helix and carefully dodged the attack, never losing balance.

That had never happened before.

It was like … like he could see the future?

Himnib was stunned too and and delayed his next attack for too long. Enra was pulled away. His parents would have to flee now. His sweet parents. He’d never see them again—he felt that in his bones.

His eyes turned to the wet dirt below him, flattened by the many captive boys before him. If he looked at his parents any longer, he’d miss them too much and would do something stupid and illogical, like cry or fight back.

Until his thoughts were interrupted, because he saw something that made even less sense. A beautiful bear, slightly older than him, who seemed far too kind to belong to Ottojon.

She seemed to notice Enra in particular too. Or, no, she noticed all the sullen boys. She watched with worry as they were taken away and even dared command a guard to be more careful. A girl! Speaking up against a large male snake!

Otto instantly slithered towards her, but he gave her no lecture. Instead, he seemed overjoyed.

“You were right again! Without your advise, I would have been killed by a magical bear. What would I ever do without you? How can I thank you, Chonib?”

“By taking good care of the boys,” she mumbled.

He didn’t take her request seriously.

Enra was tossed to the left and to the right. After entering a ship, he was chained inside a dark room that lacked fresh air and a fresh smell. He slowly turned insane. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t eat. His eyes started seeing ghost images and white spots, just to interrupt the never-ending darkness. Two boys died during the journey: the sons of one of Himnib’s sheep friends.

He didn’t know how many hours, days, weeks had passed before he finally saw sunlight again. They had anchored near Otto’s palace. The guards led them into the impressive building, but quickly turned to a staircase that led to increasingly dark and grimy hallways.

At first, he told himself that he’d be brave and escape; now he just wanted to sleep for an eternity.

But they did not leave him alone.

They brought him to an operating table. A cold slab of stone, where his bear body was attached with ropes and many healing owls leaning over him.

As soon as the operation started, the instant pain made him scream uncontrollably, until he fell unconscious several heartbeats later.

When he awoke, he didn’t know how much time had passed. Only that his body never felt the same again and that he wanted to sleep for an eternity.

But they did not leave him alone.

He was pulled to different rooms. One filled with tapestries, cloth, and ancient pieces of writing that contained symbols he couldn’t read. They forced him to sit on his knees and bow when the teacher entered, or risk receiving painful lashes from his stick.

“All of you are Krystans, right?” the fat snake asked.

The boys mumbled. Only Enra found the power to proudly say yes.

The teacher hit him with the stick. He spit on Enra’s face, and the bear hoped the teacher’s spit was not venomous.

“Forget it! Forget your past! Krystanism is a conspiracy, an act, a treachery. There is only one true faith—that of the Mira.”

“Yes, master,” said all the boys.

Enra didn’t speak. Agreeing felt like betraying his parents, betraying his home. This palace would never be his home.

He received more lashes.

They were forced to read the holy book. They had to remember it all and life in accordance with its rules.

Enra realized now that he did not have to actually believe it. He could pretend to go along, just to avoid punishment—but inside, he always stayed a Krystan and only though about home and his parents.

Each morning they woke him up, in total darkness, to follow their commands. Each night he stumbled back to his dirty bed, through the same darkness, exhausted and wounded.

Until Otto personally visited and told them they were moving to new rooms. Apparently they had achieved something. Proven their loyalty, recited enough verses from the holy book, whatever it was. The new rooms were far larger and cleaner.

Otto also found it time to provide more explanation.

“You, my boys, are part of my new system I call the Devirma. You should be proud of that! Now you fight for Ottojon and you will die for Ottojon if needed, understand?”

The boys nodded.

Enra asked: “Fight? You mean …”

“The army is the most important element of an empire. They make sure we’re safe from outside threats … but they are also the biggest threat from within. Every night, soldiers stand by my bedroom door to protect me from spies or assassins. But what if someone bribes them? What if my own traitorous sons bribe the army? Then they’ll easily take the empire, because they are the army. Nobody would stop them.”

Otto’s honesty surprised Enra. The vulnerability that such a monstrous snake could show to some scruffy young boys. A bear, a rhino, even a few goats, all barely old enough to understand what he said.

“So … I completely removed the idea of an army. Instead, you will become my new soldiers.”

He circled the group again, as he so often liked to do.

“The Moon told me it was the right time. You’ve recovered from your … operation. Starting tomorrow, you will be trained with weapons. Work hard, work for Ottojon, and within hundred years you might even be part of my personal guard!”

He lingered near Enra. “But if I get so much as a hint that you’ve retained Krystan feelings, a vague clue that you still think about home, you’re dead before you can say Otto.”

Enra swallowed and nodded with faked enthusiasm.

The new rooms caused him to find new routes through the palace. New routes that suddenly led him to one single spot of light in the darkness.

He froze outside a half-open door and peeked inside.

There she was, the beautiful bear that didn’t belong. She was surrounded by burning candles that gave her room a warm and cozy atmosphere. And she painted the moon.

When Chonib suddenly looked to the door, Enra ducked away and ran for his bed. But now he knew which route he’d accidentally walk every night. And that he’d found a reason to take Otto’s commands more seriously.

For the longest time, Enra could peer through Chonib’s open door unseen, until she finally caught him. The weapon training had exhausted him, and he accidentally kicked a vase. That made a mess and noise.

Chonib laughed at him as she helped clean up the broken shards.

“Oh, no, no, I’ll do it myself,” Enra mumbled. “The queen really doesn’t have to—”

“Queen?” Chonib laughed even harder. Enra looked around, his cheeks growing hot, as he feared her laughter would wake up half the palace. As usual, her light was the only light. “I am nothing.”

“Nothing!?” Enra dropped some shards back to the floor. “Otto treats you like a god!”

“Only because I can Moonread very well.”

Enra entered her room properly to dispose of the broken shards in a garbage crate. He saw the painting now: a perfect representation of the moon as she was this evening. The entire enchanting picture as seen from Chonib’s balcony.

“So, erm, well, how silly of me,” Enra stammered. “The one time I walk this hallway and I kick a vase!”

Chonib raised an eyebrow. “What were you doing all the other nights you visited my door? Levitating?”

His entire face turned red. His grip shifted around on the wooden fighting stick he carried from training. He wanted to step back and leave the room at once—he also wanted to stay very badly.

Had it always been this hot inside this room? He almost seemed to glow.

Chonib stepped closer.

“Well, if that’s what it takes to get you in my room,” she said. “I will place a new vase in an impractical location every evening!”

He frowned. “Why—oh, you dislike vases?”

Chonib returned to her sitting pillow to finish the painting.

“The Moon whispers that I’ll meet a wonderful person tonight. Someone who will achieve greatness. Am I wrong? Have I misread the Moon?”

She was … weird. Pretty, sweet, and weird. He waved his paws before his face, he even waved a stack of papers, but his glowing body did not cool.

“With all respect, your not-highness, I don’t think the Moon can’t speak. And if it whispers, you can’t hear it from this far anyway. It’s illogical.”

Chonib shook her entire body. She’d placed one wrong brush stroke.

“Oh. Ah. You’re more of a Sun person, am I right?”

“Not really,” he said. “I feel hot enough as it is.”

Her painting was done. She threw her brushes away and placed the canvas against the wall to dry.

“Otto will have to accept this one is ruined because I was … distracted,” she mumbled to herself. “Pff, as if the rich traders care that the moon has one wrong paint stroke.”

Enra felt he had to leave. This was improper. The boys would notice his delayed return and he still wasn’t sure if he could trust those other boys.

But he didn’t want to leave. He wanted to keep talking to this weird bear who’d received an important position in Ottojon based on … complete nonsense, right?

“Tell me, Enra, did your parents ever tell you that you’re special?”

“Every day. But all parents say that to their children.”

Chonib looked sad. “You won the lottery with your parents. They could do magic, no?”

“Sometimes. If they wanted.” Enra froze and instinctively raised his weapon. “How do you know my name?”

Chonib yawned and crawled to her bed. A palace filled with colors and soft silks, especially compared to Enra’s wooden plank of a bed.

“I am tired. We’ll talk tomorrow?”

Enra’s glowing head nodded before he could stop it. Then he turned around and ran away.

Their nightly meetings became a habit. Enra simply followed the one light at the end of the tunnel and could enjoy an hour with a weird bear and a pretty painting. It reminded him of how much he missed home. It also made his life here almost … bearable.

Until he walked into Chonib’s room without looking, failing to notice she had company. The highest possible company.

“I find it hard to read the Moon tonight,” Otto hissed softly. “Tell me if we should attack Kristinapel or not.”

“Of course I do as you ask,” said Chonib. “But is it necessary? Ottojon has already conquered all of Compana. Is that not enough?”

Enra flattened himself against the wall and kept listening. Otto had, funnily enough, trained him for situations like these. He even made sure his shadow didn’t give him away.

“Compana is just one of three continents.”

“And that is your goal? Collect them all? Is it so hard to say: this is enough, I am satisfied?”

“Alixader the Giant was never satisfied. And look how the entire world adores him.”

“Yes,” she replied sharply, calming herself afterwards. “If someone conquers you, of course you remember the name! Who invented paint? Brushes? Canvas? The formula that describes how the moon influences eb and flood? Nobody knows! Because the inventors didn’t kill your loved ones!”

“My moon, my moon,” Otto said calmly. “Surely you don’t say that the invention of paint brushes is just as important as an empire that controls a continent?”

“I am saying that. In a thousand years, animals will still be painting—but your empire will not be around anymore.”

Otto frowned. “You don’t know what you’re saying, my little moon. Surely you enjoy the riches here? Come, I will give you the ten most beautiful jewels in all of—”

“Who wears too much jewelry,” Chonib said, “is too heavy to save themselves if they fall in the ocean.”

She started reading the Moon again. Otto was next to her, coiled like only a snake can, and followed her gaze.

“I can build an entire palace just for you,” Otto said. “I can give you a large country and allow you to do whatever you want. No more worries about food, or freedom, or whatever.”

“Who turns an entire forest into his backyard,” she said, “will waste his time worrying about all possible intruders along their enormous border.”

The snake was aghast. He suddenly turned his gaze to the door and slithered to it.

Enra stopped breathing and pressed his muscular body even deeper into the stone.

Otto shut the door with a bang. The voices grew dull, harder to understand.

“Something is not right in your head. That’s why I forgive your … statements. Everyone grabs more if they can get more, you would too if you were … normal.”

Chonib sighed. “There is one thing you can do, while you’re still inventing the new laws and what you want the empire to be.”

“You make it sound easy,” the snake hissed. “All my advisors, my sons, everyone is telling me I am crazy and that we should keep doing things the way we always did. Saying it’s unfair to those who always lived following the old rules. They had low taxes, and now they’re high! Or the other way around.”

“It is,” she replied. “Does that make it bad?”

Otto returned to his coiled posture.

“Make art and culture important,” Chonib continued. “Pay your servants for building beautiful architecture, writing inspiring poems, crafting colorful paintings. Just like those traders pay you handsomely for my paintings. If the other empires see the worth of art and creativity …”

“That’s all?” Otto sounded like he’d discovered a fortune. “For your loyalty and advice, forever?”

She stayed silent. Then she spoke so softly that Enra had to crawl against the door to hear it.

“The Moon says to attack Kristinapel at once. It is weak and it will fall.”

Otto hissed loudly; Enra had learned this meant extreme joy.

“And does the Moon talk about the traitor too?” Otto asked. “The one who spread the lie that I was dead?”

“I am afraid not.”

Had they still not identified the traitor? It was clearly one of the sons, but who? Otto refused to torture his own children for information, but this meant the princes did whatever they pleased, which amounted to a lot of infighting and accusations.

The door suddenly opened.

Pain shot through Enra’s spine, but he gritted his teeth and managed to stay silent.

Otto slithered into the hallway, exuberant. “Soldiers! Wake up! We’re taking Kristinapel!”

Enra could not stay hidden. The wall let go of him and he fell onto the carpet, looking up at the snake with anxious eyes.

“That is fast … and loyal, dear boy, but you’re still too young for this,” Otto said. “Go to bed.”

As the palace woke up, Otto barked command after command.

“Also build a few beautiful mosques and hire me five royal poets.”

Chonib left her room a while later and smiled at Enra. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to be with her and lean against her warm bear body, but Chonib found it unwise and whispered for him to leave now.

She was right. They were a danger to each other—and a distraction. All eyes on revenge against Otto.

A month passed by.

They received the message that Kristinapel had indeed fallen and was renamed to Isanmool. A made-up word based on the Dovetongue for “in honor of my moon”. With the loss of their capital, the Traferia Empire had fallen apart, broken like that vase of which Enra still kept a shard. The next empire gone, swallowed by Ottojon.

At that moment, imagining the destruction of his home, he decided enough was enough. He woke the other boys and told them his plan.

Enra lit one candle and awoke all the boys from his Devirma squadron. After all those years, they slept in reasonable rooms, ever closer to the royal family. Sometimes, when he dreamt of home, he thought about these hallways instead, and he hated himself for it. But because he had never even tried to befriend the other boys, he had no idea how they felt.

“What is it, Enra?” a goat moaned. “I need my sleep. You too.”

Enra watched the candle intently. “Not a day has passed that I didn’t dream of home. Of Himnib and Solong. I may pray to the god of Mira each day, but it’s not my god. I may walk these halls, but it’s not my home.”

He looked up. Some boys knew where this was going, especially the rhino with a scar across his face that just missed his eye and never seemed to impede him. Some still rubbed the sleep from their eyes and used the candle for warmth.

“Otto will never stop conquering,” Enra continued. “Taking boys away from their parents to put them in his program. I fear he might even take over the world.”

“Watch your words,” the rhino said. His tail, partially burned but somehow fully functional, hit the stone. “The walls are thin.”

“Remember what Otto said to us? When we’d only been here for a few months?”

“The only thing he truly fears,” the rhino whispered, “is his own army betraying him.”

“This is betrayal already!” the goat said. “Islah is the only god. I will pretend I didn’t hear anything, Enra, but if you say one more—”

“If you don’t want to join, then go back to bed and pretend you slept,” he said. “But any of us who still weeps about their lost home, fight with me. Otto is unaware tonight, careless. They feast because of the fall of Kristinapel and Traferia. This is when we strike.”

The rhino sharpened his horn. Another bear reached for his weapon. All prey animals among them, however, returned to bed.

Only the goat lingered. He didn’t even know his name! After all this time, Enra had started to see the other boys as “just another soldier”, while he saw Otto and his sons as items to destroy rather than living beings. He felt numb in all possible ways.

When they departed—five trained soldiers with weapons—the goat decided to join anyway, to Enra’s surprise.

The other boys crept through the shadows with weapons pointed forward. Enra walked upright, weapon pointed at the ceiling, as if he was simply on guard.

“Walk normal,” Enra hissed. “Nobody will see us at this hour.”

The rhino grinned. He already had his scars before joining and seemed fearless, maybe even careless about the whole Devirma thing. Enra felt that, in another life, had he not been crushed by Devirma, they’d be best friends.

“Will you ever tell us about your nightly adventures? A secret admirer? Illegal drinking at the tavern? Or unlucky sleepwalking?”

“Sssh.”

Noises came from the hallway tot heir left. Footsteps. Not the nearly inaudible slithering of snakes, so that meant—

They stood eye to eye with an assortment of older animals. The previous generation of Devirma. After many years of loyal service, they were allowed to fight at Kristinapel, from which they’d just returned. Their fur and uniforms were still covered in mud and blood splatters.

“Little ones,” an elephant said. “Back to bed with you, eh.”

“Otto called for us,” Enra said without hesitation. “Guards for his bedroom.”

“No he didn’t.”

“Yes he did,” Enra spoke with a blank face, as if annoyed they dared speak up against him. The rhino sharpened his horn against the walls again.

The elephant leaned forward to push Enra with his trunk. “Liar. Otto isn’t sleeping tonight. He’s in a meeting about conquering Schola.”

“Schola? Already?” the goat said without thinking. “That’s overreach. We’ll have to cross the ocean towards Garda.”

The elephant trumpeted softly. “Whatever. I’ll join. Maybe I wil see my family again.”

Enra pushed the elephant’s trunk aside.

“If you let us through, tonight … all Devirma victims will see their family again soon.”

His eyes narrowed. The rest of his group, mostly tigers and camels, looked just as suspicious.

“Think you’re the first, eh?” he whispered. “Think not a hundred animals have tried it before you, eh? Animals that are six feet under now?”

Enra swallowed, forcing his face neutral again. “Tell me their mistakes and we will not make the same mistake.”

The reaction was delayed, but clear.

“They tried it alone.”

The older Devirma pushed Enra forward. Suddenly he was leading a group twice the size towards Otto’s meeting room. The longer they walked, the more the group grew. The others knew exactly on which doors to knock and what to say to make other animals join in.

The first resistance came from actual guards. The snakes could not finish their question of “what are you doing?” and were knocked unconscious.

Enra was hopeful—and scared to death. With each breath, he calmed himself and tried to keep a cool, logical head.

The second resistance came from the princes.

They were already at the meeting room, all three of them, leaning against the closed doors. The surprise almost made Enra laugh. Otto banished them from the meetings until he had identified the traitor … so they childishly eavesdropped.

“You want to go inside, don’t you?” Aratto said.

“And then accidentally leave the door open?” Bitto added. After the attack from his older brother decades ago, he still kept a distance from him.

“Yes, that is exactly why we’re here,” Enra said.

That room contained Otto and his fiercest fighters. It was win or die tonight.

“Come, come, come!” Crotto said. As if this was all according to plan and a herd of angry Devirma were invited to the party.

Which of them had spread the false rumor of Otto’s death? Which of them wanted their father dead and to steal the throne? Enra studied the brothers quickly, their posture and their reaction to this event, but they all seemed too stupid to realize what was about to happen.

“Our first target,” Otto’s dull voice said behind the doors, “must be the Tamli kings.”

“The Tamli?” said a surprised voice. “My king, don’t be foolish. Nobody conquers the Tamli.”

“They also said the Amorian Empire would never fall,” Otto hissed. “And that the godchildren would win the First Conflict. See how that turned out.”

The eldest prince fiddled with the lock. Their father had even taken away their palace keys. Enra imagined Otto would at some point just “lose” his sons and pretend they never existed. All the while, thirty heavily armored boys, of varying ages, shuffled on the spot.

“When I created Devirma, you were against it—but now you see I was completely right,” Otto said confidently. “When I removed hereditary succession, you were against it—afraid you’d lose your riches to somebody who was not your son or daughter. I know many of you still fight to get it back, but has it really caused us any issues?”

So that’s why Otto invented the Devirma, he realized now. All his soldiers had no family here. They had no ties to the king or anyone else inside this empire. They could be neutral and objective, follow commands without objection, because all of these boys had no other ties or loved ones to pull on them.

As opposed to his sons, who had every reason to kill their father, because the reward would be the throne. As opposed to all the family of the rich elite and the nobles, who had every reason to manipulate and inherit their family’s wealth.

Enra could hear Otto’s confident smile sneaking into his voice, even behind closed doors. “And now you are against my plan to conquer the Tamli and enter Schola? That’s merely proof that it is a terrific idea!”

Aratto had finally broken the lock. The brothers stepped aside.

Enra looked back one final time. At the certain faces of the other Devirma who could not forget home. He thought he missed one face, but didn’t know which one, because the rhino clapped him on the back and wished him good luck, while joking he’d make the situation more “bearable” now.

He placed his paws on the doors and forcefully pushed them open.

Then he heard Chonib’s soft voice.

“I only ask that you please leave the beautiful architecture of Schola intact. You see how much our empire benefits thanks to art and cul—”

He froze in the doorway, blocking the rest of the group.

The snakes unrolled themselves and spit poison, asking what was the meaning of this.

Out of a second, secret doorway a goat ran into the room.

“Your majesty! I come to warn you of a great revolution from your own Devirma! Hundreds led by a bear in—”

Enra could not talk his way out of that one.

His group entered the room, screaming and pointing their weapons.

Chonib’s face was a thunderous rage; Otto defended himself with venomous bites.

Enra watched as felines leapt at the sweet bear, their sharp nails raised. One of the snakes had already been killed. Otto was swarmed by the sheer number of boys. He could not kill them quickly enough and was thrown against the wall.

But Enra had made a mistake, dear reader. He HAD started to care for a member of the royal family, and he HAD started to see the hallways leading to Chonib’s room as his home.

He blocked the doorway, forcing the majority of their soldiers to stay outside. The Devirma were now crushed on both sides; most from behind by the princes who had realized what was truly going on.

Then he jumped on top of Chonib and pushed her out of the way of an attacker. He closed his eyes and made himself a living shield for the Moonreader.

Until all the growling, the hissing, the clattering of swords stopped.

The next time Enra searched Chonib’s lonely light in the night, he wore a medaillon for saving Otto’s life. And he received a slap in the face.

“What in Somnia’s name were you thinking?” yelled Chonib.

“I saved your life,” Enra said with his paws raised.

“After endangering it first! Do you realize for how long I had to talk to Otto, to convince him that you were actually there to save us all along?”

In her frustration, Chonib added thick black strokes to her painting. Her moon painting had failed tonight and she didn’t feel like trying again.

“Without Otto I am nothing,” she said. “He protects me, feeds me. All other palace members think him insane for listening to the advice of a female bear! If you’d killed him that night …”

Enra’s back leaned against the wall and slid down.

“I am sorry.”

Chonib sighed. She put her painting away and sat down next to him, looking out over a faintly pink moon.

“What if you succeeded?” she whispered. “The Devirma would have taken over the empire, with you at their head?”

“Back home. Back to my family, if they still live. Let this empire fall apart.”

She placed her head on his shoulder. “There is really no reason that would make you want to stay?”

Enra wanted to snuggle against Chonib. Stroke her whiskers and fall asleep in her arms—but instead he forced himself upright, stiff and emotionless. All eyes on revenge.

“You see what happens. Thanks to me, many Devirma are dead or captured. Otto has become more strict and abuses the new Devirma even more.”

He’d learned that the army was far bigger than he thought. The Devirma that joined in his revolution were only one percent at most. Otto’s system wasn’t useless after all, for the majority were loyal to Ottojon now and nothing else. The only rebels that kept their desire for their real home had now been crushed, thanks to him.

Enra shook his head.

“No. I’m better off alone.”

“You were not made for that,” Chonib replied immediately.

“You barely know me,” said Enra, sharped than intended. He glowed again, almost as if he had a candle inside him, which only ever happened with her.

“I know you better than yourself,” she said with a crooked smile. Her warm head left his shoulder and she sat down before him. “You never wondered what your magic is? You being the child of a demigoddess and another person with a magical walking cane?”

“Be maximally unfortunate? Have a terrible life? Is that a magical power?”

Chonib glowed herself as she told him the truth.

“You, Enra, must be the Demigod of the Sun.”

“What?” He studied his paws. They glowed even more brightly and lit up the entire room. Chonib snuggled up against him and enjoyed the immense warmth he radiated now. “What … and what then?”

“I found you!” she said. “That was my duty, always has been. The Moon and the Sun need each other. We belong together.”

“You mean to say—”

Enra grabbed her paws. She glowed too, but with a colder blue-purple light, just like the moon. She almost seemed to draw warmth away from him, as if she couldn’t keep herself warm and truly … needed him.

Everything fell in place. How Chonib could read the Moon and actually predict futures, which was completely illogical and impossible otherwise. Why she wanted to make a beautiful painting of the Moon every night. Why she put designs of a crescent moon in everything she made or bought.

And then Ottojon’s prowess on the oceans! The gravity of the moon was partially responsible for eb and flood—something she could read and control. That’s why their ships could navigate through storms, and at night, without fault.

Chonib nodded as if she could read his thoughts and confirmed them all.

“I am the Demigod of the Moon.”

“You … you’re the reason the Empire of Otto is able to conquer almost the entire world,” Enra said breathlessly. “Why? Why help such a tyrant?”

“You really don’t understand?”

She bit her lip and leaned forward.

Enra received his very first kiss.

He enjoyed it for as long as he permitted himself. Until the moment he felt like he betrayed home, like he should not be distracted from his revenge quest. Then he stood up and ran out of the room, mumbling excuses.

As Otto’s personal guard, Enra was now required to attend most meetings. Otto knew he had nothing to fear from his own folk—but everything to fear from his family and army—which meant the meetings took place outside. No, his folk only saw a great leader that had brought them riches, food and peace for centuries now.

And so the royal delegation walked one of the main streets winding through the capital. Surrounded by busy merchants and playing children, they discussed plans for further expansion of the empire.

“We must raise the taxes on trade again,” he said.

“Unwise,” said his accountant. “All neighbor empires already complain that we ask too much money for every ship that sails through our waters.”

Otto’s face darkened. “Hmm. Then let’s see how they like it if they can’t sail our oceans at all.”

The accountant lost his glasses. “Is that a formal order, my supreme sultan? Is that not—”

“We’ve been too kind. Each day, endless columns of camels arrive from Kina to carry goods through our empire. They even call this lucrative trade The Silk Road. And if they can’t get their goods that way, they’ll try it overseas, near Floria. But we own all those territories.”

Otto slowed his step before a beautiful mosque. He smiled contently, staring into the sun.

“So cut them off. Forbid all foreign trade through our territories. Within a year, they’ll be starving and without weapons—and we will conquer them all with ease.”

“They’ll attack our borders in rage,” his highest commander spoke harshly. “They have nothing to lose.”

He was accompanied by the rhino from Enra’s Devirma group, who, in a stroke of luck, had also given them the impression he was Enra’s best friend and also tried to save Otto that evening. They weren’t best friends then—now they were.

“And they also have nothing to win against superiority,” Otto responded curtly.

The accountant sighed and wrote down the order.

The mosque had white walls and a shining blue dome. All windows and doors were decorated with pretty patterns of interlocking circles, squares, diamonds. It was an invitation, taller than a Giant tree, to enjoy life.

The streets were filled with a variety of trees and shrubs, carefully curated to stay colorful all year. In their shadow, a singer, poet or acrobat often stood. They gave their performances a new impulse whenever Otto passed by; he thanked them with a smile and some coins in their basket.

Several playing lambs nearly bumped into their sultan. Shortly after, they jumped into a shared fountain and splashed the entire group wet. Their parents were terrified, but Otto let it happen and mumbled he was thirsty anyway.

He looked at Chonib.

“Even in this, my little moon, you were right. Is this not what civilization is supposed to be? Is Ottojon not the most beautiful empire in the world?”

“Yes, my sultan.”

She meant it. Enra knew her well enough to know when her smile was genuine.

They had everything they could ever want. Crime was negligible. New animals wanted to migrate to the empire? Otto would pay for five new cities, containing architecture to rival the work of the old Bearchitects and the most modern science applied to sewers and construction.

These days, Enra didn’t wish he could return to his family—he wished he could bring his parents here. Maybe they already shared in the empire’s wealth, for Ottojon now held two entire continents.

The Tamli kings, though, remained undefeated.

Enra slowly discovered his powers. He could stare into the sun for hours without pain or going blind, for example. Not very useful, but still a power.

At sunset they returned to the palace. Otto’s snake face hissed a bit more seriously.

“I know one of you relays our plans to the princes. Stop it. If I discover that you knew who wanted me dead all this time, but never told me, you won’t be telling anyone anything much longer.”

“With all due respect,” said his shivering accountant. “Since you removed all … usual laws, they’re not princes anymore but simply your sons. They have no power now. We are still waiting for your declaration about who will be the next sultan when you die.”

Enra was less optimistic. Nearly every month, a new threat on Otto’s life was caught just in time by the army—to Enra’s frustration. And each time, the perpetrator was an angry son or daughter who now suddenly saw their future dripping down the drain. Now they’d have to work for their own money! And they didn’t automatically get their father’s lands!

With the question of Otto’s successor in everyone’s minds, they went their own way.

Enra and Chonib stayed behind in the final sunray, which shone, not so accidentally, precisely on them.

“Otto has given me a crucial task,” she said. “I ask you to travel with me.”

Enra made the sunray disappear.

“All the other countries depended on Otto’s ships and the trade he allowed for centuries,” he said. “Because they thought collaboration was good … Otto is now able to cut them all off and let those animals starve to death. He’s still a monster that must be stopped. So no, Demigoddess of the Moon, I am better off alone.”

“And what if I gave you the chance to flee back to your family?”

Enra and Chonib held each other upright on the deck of a ship. They made good speed, thanks to Enra’s navigation using the sun at daytime and Chonib’s navigation using the moon at night. She tried to teach him Sunreading, but all her own knowledge of Moonreading appeared useless. Until the realized everything was obviously the opposite for him, after which he was a quick student.

She also taught him how to paint the sun during the day, but Enra was a hopeless artist. After Chonib had laughed at his attempts at a drawing for three days straight, he gave up.

Their first stop was Vennis. This harbor city in Itta had grown incredibly wealthy from their trade with Ottojon. They were just outside Ottojon—knowing Otto, though, that wouldn’t be true for long.

Their riches allowed them to pay attention to the arts too. They could spend money on gigantic temples, unnecessarily tall buildings, and artists like Da Vennisi who used math and formulas to create inventions.

The Krystan Church was not happy about it. But then again, the folk in Vennis also wasn’t happy with them anymore. And they now had enough money to turn that dissatisfaction into actions, such as abolishing witch hunts and freedom to practice science. They called it the Renaissance, or Rebirth.

Unfortunately, Chonib had to visit and ruin their life.

The traders already awaited the ship. Hundreds of her moon paintings were stored in the ship’s hold, each worth a fortune. At moments like these, Enra did wish for more artistical talent. But maybe he could make statues of the sun or something; the animals in Vennis would buy anything that seemed luxurious.

“Ah! The muse herself!” they said cheerfully. “Please tell us this message from Otto is a joke?”

“Afraid not,” she said, as she jumped on shore. They could’ve sailed much further—Vennis was built on water and had many little canals for boats—but Chonib didn’t want to delay their actual mission.

The traders, predominantly wolves, looked sour. “So this is the last one? Otto is ending all trade, forever?”

“This is the last one,” she confirmed. Only ten paintings were hauled to deck, as if that was all they had. The traders paid well and kept their promise, but their excitement had clearly dropped.

“I am sorry, really. I’ve been telling Otto for months that the Moon clearly says it’s a bad idea.” Enra helped her back onto the ship. “Less and less, he listens to me.”

“A hundred voices that state you’re invincible,” said an older wolf, “drown out the one voice telling of your demise.”

Chonib’s whiskers curled up. “You’ve read the works of Ardex and Bella too, I hear?”

The older wolf smiled. “Officially, I know nothing about those blasphemous works, of course. But unofficially …”

They sailed onwards to their second stop: Esprante. The country that pushed against Ottojon’s borders and had the most to lose if trade died. Also the land where Enra was born and hoped to find his parents again—if they were still alive.

“What will you tell Otto?” Enra asked at night, when Esprante was just a fleck on the horizon. “That you lost me to the sea?”

Chonib sighed. “When will you learn? If you stay behind, then I stay behind. If we find your family, then Otto has lost his Moonreader.”

Enra glowed again. They’d convinced the other sailors that it was a symptom of sea sickness.

“You would do that for me?”

“I would die for you.”

His face contorted. “Why? You’ll gain nothing from it. I am just one person without power—and you’d be dead. It’s illogical.”

“Must it be?”

“Yes! We might live in groups, but even that is selfish. If we’re kind to the group, they are kind to us. If we fight for the empire, the empire fights for us. But die for me? You won’t help yourself by doing that, obviously! So why?”

She grabbed his paws and pulled them to her body.

“Love.”

Enra stepped away to lean against the mast. Chonib followed to stay within his warmth.

“Love is the only exception,” she said. “It allows animals to achieve greatness or help others without ever thinking about themselves.”

“Then I don’t understand why love exists,” Enra mumbled. “It’s illogical.”

They’d reached Esprante’s shoreline. Enra was sweating, uncomfortable and light-headed. After all these years, he’d grown accustomed to the climate in Ottojon, not that of Esprante, and he wanted to get off the ship before he actually became sea sick.

This time, they were awaited by a royal delegation and the impressive sight of a military fleet. Enra couldn’t believe his eyes. These ships were far larger than whatever Ottojon made and—how many cannons did the big one have? More than twenty?

“That’s why we’re here,” Chonib whispered. “As expected, cutting off trade made the other empires angry. They put all their money into building the best possible fleet to finally take the oceans out of Otto’s chokehold. When Otto heard he was losing sea battles to Esprante now, I had to come here and negotiate peace.”

“I don’t believe any of that,” Enra whispered back.

Chonib nodded. “And then I had to steal their blueprints for the ships and immediately break the peace.”

They left the ship, and its hundred paintings, behind under guard. Only a small selection of paintings was carried out of the hold, as a sign of their good intentions. With those, they walked to a small building.

Inside the building, a fat swine plead before the king of Esprante.

“Give me a fleet,” he begged. “I swear I will find a sea route that does not pass through Ottojon territory. A safe route to Schola directly, so we can keep trading with them!”

“By simply sailing the other way?” the king said, laughing. “That is your entire plan, Krystoph Olombos?”

“Give me that fleet and I will prove myself.”

Chonib walked past the swine and raised her voice. “He is right. Ottojon is large, but not the entire world yet. He’ll find a sea route around us.”

The king of Esprante, a lion, laughed even harder. “Why should I believe you? The highest advisor of Otto tells us this … out of the goodness of her heart?”

“Yes,” both bears said.

“No use discussing or blaming,” said the lion. Two Gosti carried a heavy chest filled with golden coins and dropped it before Chonib. “Give us the paintings, as agreed.”

Chonib frowned. “We came her for peace negotiations. To seal the peace, I suggest trading ships. You get our ship—including all paintings, of course—and we sail back on yours.”

Enra thought this was a clever approach to solve everything at once and smiled at her.

“Unnecessary. The paintings will do.”

The king of Esprante studied the selection of ten paintings and ordered someone to carry them to a nearby room.

Enra stepped forward. He didn’t know why he was saying this, but he felt he had to. “Let’s not spill more blood. If you think your fleet can defeat ours, you are wrong.”

“I don’t need to defeat you,” the lion said. “If I don’t win, one of the other countries you angered will. You’ve put your fingers in too many pies—so pull your hand back or be prepared to lose them all.”

Enra stepped closer, until the lion guards pushed him back. It allowed him to see what happened in the little room off to the side.

A bear was reading the paintings. He drew lines, shapes and numbers on top of the moon that Chonib had painted with such precision.

They’d been oh so stupid.

The enemy could also Moonread by now and used the paintings to get an advantage, all while Otto stopped listening to its advice. Moonreading was extremely rare, and perhaps this bear was distant family of Chonib, but it could be learned, just like Otto tried.

Chonib sunk to her knees at the same realization.

Visions of an Esprante attack messed with Enra’s brain. A destruction of the beautiful Ottojon capital, the blue dome of the mosque turned to rubble, all his Devirme boys enslaved again by another Empire, even more beings ripped from their home again.

He grabbed the shard of the vase that he still carried in his uniform, ever since that first meeting with Chonib long ago. And he made a play.

“Do you know who I am?” Enra spoke softly, so that only the king would hear. “I am the being who led a revolution against our sultan and almost won. We have no love for Ottojon. We see your strength is far greater than his. The paintings are yours and we even offer our ship to Olombos for his voyage of discovery.”

His message was relayed to the room. The Moonreading bear tried to discern if there was any truth to Enra’s words.

A while later, they were back on their ship. With all their paintings, their Moonreader, the King of Esprante and Olombos. A test voyage, as a sign of friendship, towards the village where Enra used to live. He smiled as he briefly imagined seeing Himnib’s and Solong’s faces, running up to them and hugging them—then dropped his smile.

“Ah,” the swine said. “I’ve always wanted to know how Otto’s ships control the seas and move so swiftly. I trust that, thanks to you, I will find that alternative route in no time!”

“Erm, well, this is the truth,” Chonib said. She hadn’t expected Enra’s sudden play and was now lagging behind. “I am Goddess of Luck, yes, that’s me. And he is, erm, the Demigod of Good Eyes.”

They played along for the remainder of the day. They sailed quite a distance, at least out of range of the war fleet. But they couldn’t wait for too long. The treasure on this ship was too precious to keep alive. And Enra wasn’t just thinking about the paintings that could be Moonread by the enemy.

They felt little loyalty to Ottojon.

They felt even less loyalty to any other empire where they hadn’t lived their entire life, to any other king they didn’t know and who didn’t feed them.

Chonib grabbed Enra tightly, longer than she’d ever done. She could hardly find the words.

“Are we really doing this?”

Enra was confident now.

“And the Demigod of the Sun said: let there be sea storms.”

Clear blue skies became dark grey thunderclouds. Soft waves became high floods. The moon grew thrice as large, as if giants hung a lantern nearby to study the ship more closely.

Until she suddenly disappeared completely.

Within a few heartbeats, the ship started shaking uncontrollably. Sailors fell overboard, joined by barrels and rope. The deck flooded. Enra and Chonib held each other tighly and rolled with the waves, left to right, right to left.

Olombos landed next to them. The splashes from his heavy footfalls soaked Enra. The others screamed for their king; Enra couldn’t find the lion anymore.

There was no thunder, no hurricane, nothing of the sort. Chonib could only enchant the moon and thus control the waves. It was enough to nearly topple the ship upside-down. Painting after painting fell into the water and the highest mast broke, but Olombos was too heavy to get off the ship. The other travelers used him as an anchor to stay upright.

Enra tried to help. His power over the Sun was uncontrolled and merely gave them a short burst of lightning strikes.

The ship broke in two, its hull on fire. This pulled Enra and Chonib apart, severing their touch.

Loud bangs and cracks followed. The noise overpowered the sailor’s screams as they fell into the freezing water.

Enra sucked in a last breath and fell underwater too. His arms and legs searched in all directions, but couldn’t feel Chonib anywhere. His eyes opened, even if the filthy water pricked and stabbed them, but he only found darkness broken up by ruined paintings.

And yet. A light?

He turned his attention inward, searching for his own feeble magic. Until he glowed as well.

In the dark, murky waters two lights were attracted to each other.

Enra’s breath ran out. He made his final swimming strokes, covered in layers of bubbles. The other light still moved, but slowly.

Swim. Swim. Swim. His body shut down, refused work, due to the lack of oxygen.

His paws felt two other paws.

A strong current pulled the bears, locked in embrace, back to the surface.

Enra and Chonib had not expected to survive this long. After being locked in a cell for years, however, they started to believe they might leave this place alive.

The King of Esprante had died that night, and so had their Moonreader. The storms created by two gods at once had also destroyed a large part of the fleet. Olombos had survived and received all possible funds for his voyage. Chonib could only try and send his fleet the wrong way from inside her cell.

The king was succeeded by his own son, Carlos the Second, who was only three years old. Even when the poor boy became an adult, his commands were inconsistent and usually ignored. For he was not right in the head.

Even the shape of his head was wrong. For years, the royal family of Esprante had only married each other and born children with their own cousins or sisters. They said it was to keep their blood “pure” and “royal”. The result, however, was a child with physical defects over his entire body and lacking the genes to even get children of his own.

A week after Carlos died—at a very young age—Otto attacked. In truth, however, Esprante had already been defeated years earlier.

Chonib stood on Enra’s shoulders. She could follow the battle in the city by watching through the bars.

“What’s the status?” Enra said.

“Not as great as you’d think,” she said. “Those Espranti have … cannons they can hold in their hand!? They’re shooting down our archers with ease!”

Our archers. Even after all that had happened, they couldn’t help but see Ottojon as their group. Their empire. Their community.

Of course, dear reader, Chonib was talking about handguns. An Kina invention from long ago which they had not traded with Otto on purpose. Thanks to discoverers like Olombos, these new technologies reached the countries of Origina instead.

The only reason Otto still won was his sheer number of soldiers. All the boys who’d been brainwashed and put into Devirma the past 500 years.

Chonib kissed Enra on his cheek. Even locked in a cell together, for all those years, he’d never told her he left here. Never answered her love with more than a hug. All eyes on revenge against Otto.

And still she didn’t give up. “We can life in freedom together. Walk away together, if you want.”

“I go alone,” said Enra, as always. Chonib should have become despondent long ago and she didn’t even understand herself why that hadn’t happened. “The last time we traveled together we both nearly died.”

When Otto came to free them, he wasn’t in a great mood. They’d won back a large part of Esprante, but at what cost? Almost their entire fleet and army. He’d now seen how much more advanced the other empires were. For how long Ottojon had done nothing to progress its military.

On the long journey home, Chonib explained everything. And she could be honest. What they’d done was a brave and risky attempt to keep Otto’s empire intact for much longer.

And so he rewarded them both again. Enra became his highest commander. Chonib his highest advisor. The rhino with the scarred face laughed himself silly when Enra appointed him as the empire’s accountant—or Sultan of Treasure—telling him the three of them might just be “the luckiest animals on Somnia”.

Rightfully so. It felt like the three of them rolled over the floor with laughter for hours, unable to stop. They had tried to destroy Otto their entire life—and instead they had saved him repeatedly and were now the most important beings in the empire.

Their laughter subsided when they felt that trusty desert sand under their paws again.

Chonib froze, eyes wide open. The beautiful streets were gone. The artful buildings, the colorful decorations, the acrobats and poets, everything gone. Most homes and paths had fallen into disrepair. Whatever stood upright was gray and served only one purpose: make weapons or make food.

No children played outside. The fountain was filled with sand.

When they entered the meeting room, the map on the wall told the rest of the story. Large parts of Ottojon had been lost. They still held Compana quite comfortably. But that continent was surrounded by water on all sides, and at the opposing shore waited many fleets with stronger ships than theirs.

Unfortunately, Otto had started his empire from the middle of Compana, the other empires like a circle around him. And now Ottojon was crushed from all sides.

Enra and Chonib were mostly at war with themselves. Was Ottojon their home or not? Did they belong to the right side, or was it simply the only side they’d ever really known?

Once they were alone, Enra wasted no second.

“I must seize power. Then I can decide if we defend Ottojon or let it be conquered. Tonight I will fight Otto. Because the snake that took everything from me and treated me like a slave will never be—”

Chonib burst into tears, which she wiped against his chest.

“I can’t do this anymore. I just want to live, with you, in freedom and peace. That’s what I was meant to do, that’s always been my life’s purpose. But you … you …”

Sharp, bleak moonlight penetrated the room.

“An empire already falls apart when the capital is lost—how long do you think you can lead Ottojon if nobody likes or supports you? Or do you think you can completely remove all the laws and rewrite them from scratch again?”

“No, that was Otto’s first mistake,” he said. “You can’t ignore the past, it would be illogical. Everything that happened before has consequences now.”

Chonib made a face to disagree with removing the laws being a mistake. She clung to him.

“Just don’t go alone. You need others. You need me.”

“I need others?” Enra said as he turned around to leave. “Let even more animals die for me? Put you in danger again!?”

She gave him a final kiss. “That you fear putting me in danger so much,” she whispered, “is that not the biggest sign of your love?”

Enra fell silent, playing with the weapon in his claws.

She smiled faintly. “As a Demigod of the Sun said once: It’s illogical.”

He smiled back and dropped his weapon, just to hold Chonib tightly and—but no, the words didn’t leave his mouth. Not then, not now, probably never.

All eyes on revenge, even now, especially now.

Chonib turned away to hide her tears.

“As long as my light burns, you may come to my room and I am yours. If the light goes out … I never want to see my sun again.”

Enra wanted to give a thousand replies, too many to actually choose one. She didn’t really love him, just his magic. He’d disappoint her. He’d lose her, because he endangered everyone. It was illogical. You could never lead an empire or make inventions on love, right?

And the biggest secret that he’d always kept: he could not give her any children.

That’s what they’d taken from him during that operation, when he was just a young boy. Because no children ment no sons who would kill you to get your wealth or throne, or so the Devirma philosophy stated.

So he said nothing.

She left the room, towards the bedrooms of Otto and his sons.

“Behind every powerful man in history stood a woman who tossed a coin,” she said. “Half the time, she was insane and manipulated the man endlessly. And half the time that woman was the only reason the empire hadn’t already collapsed in on itself.”

“And which are you?” he asked softly.

“Both.”

The Devirma program had received their own building by now. The longer a boy belonged to this army, the higher the floor on which they slept.

Enra now stood at the entrance, on the first floor, chasing his own doubt away.

He had become the boss of Devirma. He didn’t need to convince anyone, he could command all the boys to join him in taking over power tonight. The army was his, and as was clear to him now, that also meant Ottojon was practically his. The final obstacles, Otto and his princes, just needed to be removed for good measure.

It was also clear to him now that a leader without truly loyal followers will eventually be killed by inside threats.

So Enra stepped inside and softly knocked on the first bedroom doors. He woke up the newest recruits and told them the plan. They could walk with him and watch the army seize power in Ottojon—or they could walk away and receive their freedom.

Because these animals had only been recently snatched from their homes, almost all of them wanted to leave. But they didn’t believe Enra: they thought it was a test for their loyalty. He had no time for long conversations and had to hope they made the right choice, and that nobody ran to Otto to reveal his secret.

Using this method, he visited all the rooms on the lower floors, where he found nearly zero loyalty for Ottojon. Only at the higher floors, with soldiers who hadn’t seen their families and fought for Otto for centuries, he found serious resistance.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want,” said Enra. “You get a choice. Either go back to your family and don’t stand in my way, or get behind me and see how we revive Ottojon. I can’t rule out a short fight and several deaths, but I promise that’s the worst that could happen tonight.”

“U forget the third option, commander,” an elephant said. “We don’t want to leave, but we also don’t want you as sultan. Nobody knows you or thinks you’d be a good leader.”

“Who says I want to be sultan?”

He left these rooms with only a handful of followers and uncertainty about what the others would do.

The time had come. The moon had just arrived at the heavens—there was no turning back.

When he entered Otto’s bedroom, the doors were wide open and guards were nowhere to be found. Enra snuck inside suspiciously, but there was truly nobody here. His heart raced. Someone snitched on him. Or Chonib had done something—

He looked through the window. Otto lay in the gardens, alone, as if he expected someone.

To his satisfaction, Enra noticed more and more Devirma joining him. They walked downstairs together and met Otto in the beautiful gardens that he had started to call home.

The snake looked up with lazy eyes, as if they had woken him up.

“Chonib said that the Moon predicted an important meeting,” Otto said. “One I was to have in the gardens, naked. That I had to listen to the wise words that would be spoken, to prevent bloodshed and terror.”

He spit on the floor. “Normally I’d laugh at such advice and ignore it. But if my little moon tells me to …”

Enra gave precise hand signs and the boys circled Otto on all sides. He felt the burning eyes of Devirma boys looking from their window, at a safe distance.

His best friend, the rhino with the scarred face, stood beside him and gave him renewed confidence.

“Dear sultan,” Enra started with faked calm. “When I was still a boy, you took away my body, my home, and my life. I am afraid that tonight I must respond with the same—”

An arrow zipped through the night sky. Otto dodged just in time.

Reflexively, Enra searched the windows for the perpetrator, and he even felt the need to protectively shield Otto. No, none of his boys did this. But who—

Aratto, the oldest son, also appeared in the garden. As if he’d always been there, lurking in the shadows, looking down at his vulnerable father.

Soon after, his other two sons appeared in other corners of the garden. They’d all spotted an opportunity tonight, but which of them decided to grab the chance?

Enra wanted to make one of the sons sultan, just for show, while the army actually led the empire. The best solution for all. Logical. But who fired the arrow? Who is the traitor that wanted Otto dead for centuries now?

The princes stepped closer as if the army wasn’t there.

Enra yelled his command: “Stop the princes. Search them for weapons.”

“Excusssse me?” Bitto hissed. “Who do you think—”

Otto smiled and nodded to Enra appreciatively.

Enra went insane. He laughed as if he’d gone mad and had to use a tree for support.

It had happened again! Tonight, he could protect Otto and catch his criminal son, and Otto would reward him even more! What next? The sultan would reward Enra for his loyal service by adopting him into his family? All history books would write that Enra was by far the most loyal and brave Devirma that ever lived.

The all watched Enra in disbelief and worry.

“Enough is enough,” he said, once he’d calmed down. “Otto, the army will seize power tonight. You can die fighting or walk with me to your jail cell.”

Otto revealed his full size. The first soldiers who tried to grab him were swatted away by his uncoiled tail, but then the sultan was overpowered and bound.

“Traitor! After all I’ve given you! Have you not lived peacefully in my beautiful empire, for centuries? Have I not always rewarded you for your good deeds?” Otto flailed and bit anyone that came close, but his powerful snake body could not escape. His voice turned wild, his eyes red. “Where is your loyalty!?”

Enra stepped forward, spear pointed at Otto’s heart. “You can have my forced labor or my voluntary loyalty,” he said. “But not both.”

He pretended he was about to kill Otto. Instead, at the last second, he pulled back and studied the three sons.

Crotto went white as a sheet and asked for mercy for his father. Not the killer?

Bitto instinctively looked away, but also didn’t stop him.

Aratto stood closest to him. He took a two-sided sword between his long teeth, then dropped it clumsily. Suspiciously clumsy. The sharp blade narrowly missed the tip of Otto’s body.

Chonib stepped from the shadows too, illuminated by moonlight, beautiful as always. Otto quickly realized she also wasn’t here to save him.

“All of you are traitors! All the talk about art and culture. About Moonreading. It’s all useless, a waste of money. Millions of paint brushes have not prevented Ottojon from shrinking to half its original size! Millions of swords would have.”

He spit at Enra and Chonib. “You’ve always kept me for a fool. Manipulated me.”

Then Otto looked at “his” soldiers, one by one.

“Will you remember what happened here tonight? Will you allow such a weak traitor to assume power?”

“To be honest,” the rhino said, “we just want to go home.”

“Ottojon is your home!”

“It’s a ruin where no child even dares play. Home is not just survival. It also means living.”

Slowly but surely, the fight drained from Otto’s body. He stopped struggling and his eyelids drooped over his yellow pupils. He couldn’t win.

Enra stepped forward again and rapidly pushed his spear forward—only to test the sons again.

Now they all asked for mercy in exactly the same words. As if they’d rehearsed it. Aratto could have easily stopped Enra—he even had the better weapon and was a great fighter—but he didn’t.

The same was true, though, for the other two sons.

Until he realized the truth and turned his anger to the three snakes.

“You have all spread the rumor that Otto was dead! You were all out to kill your father and take his throne. The only reason it never happened, is because Otto abolished the law that one of you would inherit his throne when he died!”

Before they could defend themselves, the not-princes-anymore were also pushed to the floor by the might of half the army.

“Lock them all up,” Enra said. “And I mean it. Who wants to go home, can go home. Whoever remains meets me tomorrow to discuss what should happen with Ottojon. For now, my only order is to immediately abolish the Devirma program.”

The soldiers responded with smiles and cheers. The entire royal family was carried to the dungeons below the palace.

“Thank you,” he said to Chonib.

“You know how to thank me,” she said playfully.

“Why do you want this?” Enra whispered through gritted teeth. “I can’t give you anything. I’m a demigod who doesn’t even know his powers. I …”

He stopped whispering and pushed his snout into hers.

“I can’t give you children! The only logical reason nature wants to be together! So let me go!”

“I do not care!”

“But—”

“It is not a trade. It is love. I don’t want anything from you, but I want to give you all.”

“It’s illogical,” he mumbled. He also felt it was all he’d ever wanted.

Chonib sauntered away.

“There is a light …”

More than half the army had left for home. Enra received letters with thanks and praise from their family. But letter paper and ink couldn’t defend their borders. Unless a particularly poetic empire attacked.

Their enemies, however, were everything but artful. Several empires had already retaken large parts of Company with brute force. Ottojon stopped being the largest empire some time ago.

Ever since the trick with the sinking sheep years ago, Esprante still harbored a deep hatred for anything that contained the word Otto. Their powerful fleet had destroyed Ottojon’s shores and now cut them off of all trade. Olombos had arrived on another continent long ago—not the one he wanted, but this was also fine—and since then Esprante had become a large, filthy rich empire.

Rich enough that they now attacked other countries just for fun and talked about becoming “the biggest”. It seemed suspiciously similar, Enra thought, to the goals of an elderly snake who now sat in their dungeons.

He heard life was beautiful in those other countries. They had invented machines! Things that worked and produced all on their own, without forced labor. Enra had just replaced his archer’s bows with those handguns, only to see that the enemies could already produce something called tanks in large numbers.

Chonib still regularly traveled the world, but he had never dared visit her room again. Others had to tell him where she’d been or what she’d discovered. For if he placed a paw outside of Ottojon now, he’d immediately be killed by his many enemies.

The only moment Chonib had talked to him … was to tearfully tell him that his father Himnib had died of old age. And that his mother had become a shepherd again and left for god knows where.

Chonib’s light still burned, from early dawn to late dusk.

Millions of candles wasted on an illogical hope. Or millions of something they called electricity, another invention Chonib had brought home and was playing with.

Enra studied his map for the umpteenth time. “Remove the armies at Tamli. We’ll never conquer them, and they don’t seem interested in attacking us.”

“Dear commander,” his rhino friend said, “the armies there have been gone for years. We need them to defend against the threat of Kina with, you know, dragons.”

“Fine,” said Enra with a sigh. “Then pull back armies on the shores near Floria. That continent only busies itself with itself. Do those jackals even have an army?”

“We don’t think so. Otherwise we’d have allied with them long ago,” his friend said. “I’ll do as you wish, commander. But we must talk about the other option.”

“The … other option?”

The rhino lowered his voice. “We are losing, Enra, and you know it. My luck runs out at some point. All important animals need a plan to escape in case … in case …”

Enra went silent. His mind played the memories of how beautiful Ottojon once was. Pretty pictures, filled town squares, playing children—something to hang onto and remember why you fight. Once they’d owned the entire continent Compana and large chunks of Garda and Origina. When Floria suddenly rose from the sea, Otto even wanted to send a little army there.

But the only logical conclusion was that, yes, the empire would soon fall.

“I must think about this,” he said eventually. The rhino nodded, gave him a friendly pat on the back, and left.

And think he did, like always, even knowing he wouldn’t reach any other conclusions. He mostly had to learn to … feel instead.

That night, nostalgia made him walk his old route. When he was still a young boy and searched for Chonib every evening. That route inevitably led to a half-open door behind which a light burned.

He thought he had to flee on his own and find his mother. He thought he’d feel better, or that any feeling would return, once he’d taken revenge on Otto. He thought you were meant to make logical decisions and then … become happy automatically?

Now he knew there was someone who’d travel the world with him, looking for his mother and their hundred sheep. Even though it wasn’t logical and it didn’t benefit her. Now he knew taking revenge had done nothing for him at all. There was a light that would never go out—and he finally accepted that same light burned within hin.

The light of life.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and walked to the door.

The light went out.

The light was out!

For the first time in hundreds of years.

In deepest dark, Enra stumbled to her room, kicking a few more vases to shatter on the floor.

“Chonib! CHONIB! I am here! I was already here! I was in time!”

But he felt it was too late. A barrage of emotions overwhelmed him and made him sick, and he couldn’t hold it back any longer, his stomach twisting and his vision flashing. If only he hadn’t hesitated. If only he’d walked faster. If only he’d answered her love immediately and left Otto alone.

If only … if only … he did not have an entire life of turning off a light that wanted to be on.

“CHONIB!”

He kicked the door off of its hinges and raced over her soft carpet, to her bed, to the painting that she’d made this night on her balcony. The painting was about to tumble off the side, three stories down, but he saved it just in time.

A black spot stared at him. Had she purposely not drawn the moon tonight? Was she not done yet?

He looked up. The entire world was covered in darkness, like an eclipse but …

A moon eclipse. Chonib’s light had gone out completely.

Enra fell to the floor, shaking from the tears. “Chonib … I am here now. I am here. I can’t be too late, no? Give me another chance.”

He knew how he sounded. She’d given him another chance for centuries. They were almost elderly bears now, even in a time when the Legend of Longlife still existed, and demigods always aged much more slowly than regular beings.

Chonib was right. She had left, she had given up on him, they were all right—

“Enra,” said her soft voice. She sounded in a panic, even more than when she stood on that sinking ship amidst flashes of thunder. “The moon is gone.”

“You didn’t do this?”

Enra turned around and searched for her glowing eyes in the dark room.

“No,” she said.

She also had to crawl through the room blindly. He heard planks groan and a cupboard that toppled over. He felt her pull on the carpet, her warm breath reaching his fur, but couldn’t see her.

Until their paws met.

Enra pulled Chonib to his warm body. He kissed her face, her whiskers, her snout, her everything.

“I am here. I am here. I love you. I love you.”

Chonib jumped on top of him and returned the kisses tenfold. But her face never lost its worry.

“The moon looked odd in my first painting. She changed all the time. And then …”

She grabbed her first attempt. She pointed at a few black splotches in irregular shapes, as if they took bites out of the moon.

Enra did not find them odd. He recognized them. He looked for the memory, for the meaning, in his slow brain that was no drowning in love and ecstasy.

Yes. He’d seen this at the border, at recent battles.

“Those are enemy airplanes!” he yelled.

“What are airplanes!?”

He pulled her upright, out of the room, through the familiar hallways, to the nearest exit.

The gravel road through the gardens held a car. Another new invention that Chonib had ordered to be made, which could be steered by bears or other quadrupeds. The others called it the “metal dragon” and witchcraft, but Chonib had seen that Origina already drove these things for decades.

“Are we not more safe in the palace?” she asked, exchanging more kisses.

“Those airplanes drop bombs,” Enra said out of breath. “In an hour, there will be no palace. Get in! Drive!”

“Should we not—”

An explosion illuminated the night sky. An entire neighborhood at the border of the capital was on fire. Not long after, a second bang, like an earthquake and volcanic eruption at the same time, hit in an entirely different location.

Never letting go of each other, they got in and started the engine.

“I can barely control this thing! I will drive us to our death!” she said.

Enra took deep breaths and kissed her again, holding her like he even had to protect her from the night air.

“To die by your side … my pleasure, the privilege is mine.”

Chonib gave him a nervous smile, then drove away from the palace at lightning speed.

The Second Conflict was in full swing, dear reader. And the rich countries in Origina fought with automatic weapons and airplanes, while Ottojon had only just replaced its swords and bows. They still had a large territory, purely because they USED to be massive, and existed for so long. But a few battles later …

The Moon and the Sun had three car accidents, but survived them all. The palace was returned to ruins before they’d even reached the shore. Chonib managed to get a foreign ship and arrange passage on it.

From the ship’s deck, they saw columns of smoke that pinpointed the locations that once held Ottojon’s largest cities.

In Floria, the nice jackals gave them protection. They, indeed, had practically no army. And the lonely Florians assumed that the world would just believe Chonib and Enra had died during the attack.

Lucky once more, as his rhino friend would have said. They received a second chance at life.

And the Florians were right. Soon, news arrived that Ottojon had fallen, including its capital and all its leaders. They even changed Ottojon’s flag to represent the two bears: a crescent moon with a star in the center. A tiny bit of respect or memorial for their enemy. Though Enra later learned that the Sumiseri already used this symbol, which meant there was a long pedigree of Moon and Sun beings in Somnia’s history.

It also meant the entire empire was suddenly without a leader.

When the initial wave of battles in the Second Conflict was over, the victors came together to distribute the land. It was cut in pieces, like dividing food among your children at the dinner table, or a garden into different areas for different vegetables.

Or, Enra mused as he looked at the shard still in the pocket of his uniform, like a vase shattering into pieces and everyone received one shard.

Casbrita, the Frambozi, the all received some plot of land they had no use for, but did tax.

And that, dear reader, is obviously a recipe for more conflicts. Something victors would never learn, unfortunately. In a century, they’d still wage war in old-Ottojon, because some claim the land is theirs, while others claim it is theirs, and another abuses the situation to get rich from selling weapons.

“Why couldn’t they just leave the country whole?” Chonib repeatedly said. “Bring peace and leave them alone?”

Then she’d shake her head, snuggle up to Enra, and paint the moon once more.

Jaco, the sort-of-king of Floria, kept buying the paintings on the advise of an energetic gazelle. To hang on the walls of a pyramid or something.

He still laughed when he remembered that Enra had kept his identity secret for so long, for both himself and others, as Demigod of the Sun.

“Your name literally means not-Ra, or not-sun. Your parents gave their absolute worst try at hiding it!”

Today, Jaco was a little more serious when discussing Ottojon’s downfall.

“Well, as they once said, no empire without downfall. And as for you, Enra, and what you experienced … remember: no power without the powerless.”

Chonib smiled. “Ah! I’ve found another reader of the books of Ardex and Bella?”

Jaco shrugged. “Gidi teaches me to write. She’s given up teaching me to count.”

With a glimmer in his eye, he looked at the next beautiful painting from the Moongoddess. “But I also know: no life without art. Truly, those beige sand walls are making me sick and hurting my eyes, but with these paintings on the walls …”

Gidi, the slender-horned gazelle, regularly visited.

“Well, erm, well, now, like, I wouldn’t mind if you experimented and painting a few things that were not the moon.”

“I can paint the sun!” Enra said.

“He can approximately paint a circular yellow blot,” Chonib corrected.

“Who says what is and isn’t art?” Jaco said. “If it makes you happy to draw completely incorrect suns, then—”

“Puh. I think it’s time we move on,” Enra said as if offended.

Ardex had understood that the godchildren would not be around forever. His children, the demigods, were probably meant to succeed them. But now they, too, were chased and hunted in a new world-wide conflict.

Enra and Chonib eventually left Floria to find their family again, if they still lived. They knew they were in danger everywhere, if anyone found out they were demigods with magic. It almost made them lose hope. Ever since that very first fight between two groups, whatever it was, the world was stuck in andless cycle of hate, murder, and conquering others.

But as long as they had each other—because they had each other—their light of life would never go out.

And so it was that life continued …