The Ring of Bane

By Asa Winton

A child of the eldest god,

Shall reach her goal against all odds,

And though protection and rest shall reach,

Her fate and power in mind shall keep.

A toll for the heroes,

A toll for the lost,

A toll for the old one,

Who'll tally the cost.

A toll for the Risen,

And one for the Turned,

W

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mary Ethel Eckard
• Release date: May 10, 2024
• ISBN: 9798990457621

Asa Winton

Asa Winton is 19 years old and lives in Frisco, Texas with his family nearby and his fiancée. He has drafted over 20 various copies of the WBS since he was 13 years old but only committed to it as a series at 17. Aside from writing avidly, he enjoys competing in CrossFit, shooting, obstacle course racing, and spending time with his fiancée. He also finds it very odd to write about himself in third person.

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The Ring of Bane

A Warborne Series Book

Asa Winton

To contact the author: [e-mail]

Copyright © 2024 by Asa Winton

All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction. Characters, places, events, and names are the product of this author’s imagination. Any resemblance to other events, other locations, or other persons, living or dead, is coincidental. The author reserves all rights to be recognized as the owner of this work. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Published by:

Mary Ethel Eckard

Frisco, TX

Library of Congress Control Number: 2024909276

ISBN (Print): 979-8-9904576-1-4

ISBN (Hardcover): 979-8-9904576-8-3

ISBN (E-book): 979-8-9904576-2-1

Cover concept and design by Nicolle Belieny

To my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ,

Who showed me that even the soldiers

have a seat at the high table.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1     Ghosted

Chapter 2     Earthbound Thunder

Chapter 3     Permission Granted

Chapter 4     Retribution

Chapter 5     Homecoming

Chapter 6     A Gods Envy

Chapter 7     Secrets and Swords

Chapter 8     The Commissioned

Chapter 9     Grudge Match

Chapter 10   Poker Face

Chapter 11   Connecting the Dots

Chapter 12   Dreamweaver

Chapter 13   Beginning of The End

Chapter 14   The End of The Beginning

Chapter 15   War

Authors Note

About the Author

Prologue

Present day

Rory Haynes sat on a chair on the porch of his cabin in the woods of North Dallas, knees on his elbows, as he watched the approaching storm with youthful excitement in his eyes, electric blue, just like the lightning that cracked through the dark clouds, too far away to hear… for now.

The front door quietly opened behind and, to his right, someone was trying to sneak up on him. He smiled to himself as, in total silence, they snuck out and around him, remarkably quiet and undetected. Had he himself not taught them how to move so silently?

Rory jumped to his feet as they charged; the first one, his grandson Adrian, sprinted full steam ahead, fists swinging and war cries echoing in the hills. Rory pushed him off to the side by his head, but then the other twin, Teresa, latched around his leg. She had to weigh only 40 pounds, but Rory knew how to play with children. His leg was officially not moving.

Then came Carrie, 7 years older than her siblings, at a wiry 13, but taller than all the boys in her class. She was already a good fighter, and she knew not to hold back. She threw her whole body into her punch, easily getting through Rory’s guard and socking him in the stomach. Rory mock-groaned and fell on his butt, giving way as all three piled on top of him, yelling and laughing the entire time.

Finally, he got them to back off and he sat up, all of them catching their breath.

What was all that for? Rory asked, pretending to be indignant.

Why do we need a reason? Carrie responded breathlessly. Did I do good, Grandpa?

Yes, you did, all three of you. Rory laughed, I wouldn’t want to break into YOUR house, that’s for sure. He stood and picked the younger two up by an arm each, planting them on their feet. Now, come on, it’s time for a story and then bed.

The three kids chorused yells of excitement, running back into the house, and jumping into their beds faster than their parents had ever gotten them to go.

Rory took his time getting to their room, turning off the lights in the rest of the house and locking the doors. He brought the dogs in and watered them, then glanced outside again; the storm was getting closer by the second, but he knew it would be no trouble for the children. They loved storms just as much, if not more, than he did.

He finally got to their room, closing the door leaving just a crack, and sat in his chair. All three looked at him eagerly from Carrie’s bed, positioned by the window that was open to the cool wind the thunderclouds were being brought on.

Alright… He sat back and crossed his legs on Teresa’s bed, pretending to think. What story shall I tell you? The one about the soldiers at the Alamo?

No, you told us that last time, Adrian protested.

And did you like it? Rory asked.

Yeah, but we want a new one! Teresa interjected.

What about Hacksaw Ridge? That’s a good one.

Heard it, Carrie said, rolling her eyes.

Ten times, Adrian muttered.

Rory stared at them for a second. You all have… what do they say now? No chill. Snarky. Like your mom. He smiled under his beard as they grinned mischievously.

Where’d Mom get it, Grandpa? Carrie asked sarcastically.

It comes from her mother, Rory quickly answered. Alright, we’ll hear a new story. I have just the one.

He pretended to think for a moment, then scooted closer to them, leaning forward to hold their attention.

This one begins… quite a while ago. Quite some time has passed. Yet remarkably, it feels very recent. Some are like that. It starts with a group of people you already know and love very much… the Spartans.

Chapter One

Ghosted

The Spartan Legion began thousands of years ago, at the beginning of the stabilization of Greece as a country. Their founder, Corvas Storm, was a son of Zeus and fought in the days of Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle. Some say he even existed before them in the time when only gods roamed the earth. Whatever the case, he was gifted immortality by Athena to drive the Argives out of his country, Macedonia. They had destroyed his home, and he nearly went mad in the mountains. Preserved by the gods and given immortal abilities, he amassed a small army and, with a legendary weapon given to him by the god of war, Ares, drove the Argives out of Macedonia. They then renamed it Sparta.

From that point onward, Corvas collected demigods from all over Greece and trained them into an elite army called the Spartans, a task force designed to protect the world from threats natural and supernatural; werewolves, vampires, undead, necromancers, Minotaur’s, Sphinx’s, and Chimera’s, just to name a few. Demigods themselves posed a constant threat, intent on gaining revenge on their parents, for the gods had no time for their offspring. Sad as that is, it was no excuse to break the Laws of The Empowered, set by some supernatural, all-powerful being which not even the gods knew. But they clearly state that, any person who uses their supernatural abilities for evil, is to be punished with death.

Corvas had no issue with death. Nor did any of the Spartans. They were bred for war, taught at the youngest age possible that to kill in defense of themselves, others, or their freedoms gifted them by the gods, was not a breach of the Laws. There were no pacifists in the Legion, and there never would be.

A few centuries after the Spartans began, Corvas Storm’s brother, Tyrion, the cleverest and wisest of the Storms, found there was another way to create a person with demigod powers; to inject or mix the ichor of a specific god with a human of young age. After a painful week of transformation, this would turn them into demigods of almost the same caliber as a pure-blooded demigod of direct descent of a god or goddess.

For years this was known only to the Spartans, and the rest of the world marveled at the number of demigods in their army. They kept peace through their oath to the world that could be realized with just their name; to guard and protect.

As the world grew, so did the Spartans. The Roman Empire almost ended them, but they survived by scattering and hiding for years, then hitting back by killing the Caesar and collapsing the Roman government from the inside. A few centuries later, they were called to Spain to help stop the Spanish Inquisition. Somehow, they ended up going to America with Christopher Columbus. As the New World gained attention and western civilization moved to Britain and then America, the gods shifted with it… as did the monsters. So, the Spartans followed. They helped found the United States, fought in the Revolutionary War, and preserved their old way of life in the new country by being advisors to the men who wrote the Declaration of Independence. The American government then worked with the Spartans to set up the ITF, or the International Taskforces Fund. The Spartans could hardly hunt monsters for free. They had bills too, you know, and weapons built with silver for monsters vulnerable to only such a substance, are never cheap.

Monsters were afraid of them then; for America was a very free country, and mankind now had a bounty system with which they could live on. Monster attacks went down as the number of hunters went up. Peace reigned, and the Spartans didn’t mind at all. The number of necessary soldiers went down by the year, until the Domes, the small hidden cities the Spartans lived in, were nearly empty except for new pure-blooded demigods.

Then the wars hit. Our country was launched into Civil War, and the super-soldiers fought between themselves just as every state and corner of the country did. Soon after, America was pulled into World War One. We showed then, to the rest of the world, exactly why we were a world power. After that, the Spartans offered the world a way they could protect all civilizations, but only if they were allowed. The Sanctum system was inset into the Spartans database. From here, countries could decide if they wanted the Spartans to keep watch over their country, state, or province. The Spartans soon became not only the number one monster hunting company in the world, but it also became the ONLY official company anyone would hire.

However, not everything had been covered. Monster attacks went further and further downhill as other threats rose; rape, murder, arson, crime, in general… so the Spartans worked with the US and other countries to be exempt from the restrictive laws set to the civilian and the policeman. They were allowed to capture or kill murderers, catch arsonists, and bring rapists and drug addicts into any prison, just like a policeman.

As expected, this brought much scrutiny from the public and private sectors. Certain countries would not take the Spartans protection in trade for being allowed to move, essentially, outside their own laws. But as monsters AND crime rates in the US plummeted, the people calling for the Spartans to be dismissed had no real voice over the men and women who could sleep peacefully at night.

Not too long before this leniency was given, the Spartans fought with America and the Allies in World War Two. They collapsed enemy lines and personally oversaw the bombing of Hiroshima. They fought with the elements, wrecking entire battleships when they had thirty or more children of Zeus working together.

Yet the war took years to end, not from lack of Spartans, but because Hitler allied himself with dark forces, promising them blood and freedom should they help him. Many monsters that were at the top of the Dangerzone list appeared on the lines of the Nazis, taking more and more American and Spartan blood.

Finally, Corvas himself put a stop to it by planting multiple spies and assassins behind the lines, sabotaging the Nazi’s machinery, and later placing an agent that killed Adolf Hitler inside his own bunker. Corvas’s sister, Kyre, shot Hitler through the head, as she had lost her fiancé in the war to one of Hitler’s vampire generals.

After the World War ended, the Spartans did not partake greatly of any particular war, and if they did, they did nothing special in them. Whenever the American government began to do something that the Spartans did not want a part of or did not believe to be right with their Laws and Code, they backed up and let the American people suffer the bad choices of their government and sometimes of their own.

During this time of relative peace, the Spartans became more a part of everyday life. They were constantly on patrol in cities and towns, not always armed and armored, but always watchful and protective. Monsters began to fear hunting any human at all because they could often not tell if it was indeed just a mortal or if it was a hidden demigod armed and prepared to kill under everyday clothes.

The people loved the Spartans; they were impressive, taller than mortals, as demigods tend to be, and three times as strong and fast. Yet with that and their elemental powers, they were still humble and kind. They would never refuse a child if they wanted a picture, a handshake, or even a hug. The public elected to create a few statues and memorials for them, some of which stood even through the Vanishing.

And that is where we must talk about the bad part. The Vanishing was an event that came later in the 2000s, after there had been peace for a long time and little need for Spartans. A generation grew up knowing only the easy life, immediate access to all they wanted, and they took it for granted. As a byproduct, this made a lazy, arrogant, and weak generation that protested violence without knowing the true definition of the word.

As you can imagine, this made them biased against the Spartans, who were harbingers of violence to monsters and criminals. There began a public outcry against the soldiers. Riots formed. The Spartans defended themselves whenever directly attacked, naturally, but these self-defense clips were edited by fake news and published as violence on humanity to sway public opinion.

Within a years’ time, the outcry had become so loud that Congress and the President held a public meeting with Corvas Storm. They explained to him that the people wanted the ITF money to go into more public ventures, since monsters were no longer much of an issue. They explained reason after reason to him as he stood with his arms crossed, eyes hidden behind his helm. The public officials sounded like they were trying to convince themselves more than him. The crowd, gathered at the meeting in front of the White House, started jeering and catcalling. They demanded Corvas surrender his weapons right then and there, including Braethix, the sword given to him by Ares years earlier.

Corvas slowly drew the sword and looked at it. Everyone was silent in that moment, wondering if he would truly go without a fuss. Then he looked at the crowd, pointed his sword at them, and spoke, with a voice like thunder, words they forever remembered.

Never forget. When your families are slaughtered and your children eaten, when your homes are burned and your government impedes your freedoms, when food is scarce and violence plenty, do not forget… we did not walk out. You pushed us away.

Then he disappeared in a flash of red lightning.

The next morning, no Spartans could be found.

Not one stood at a street corner.

Not one stood in a stadium or atop a building.

No Legion trucks roamed the streets.

No shields glinted in the sun; no gunshots, followed by the scream of a monster, could be heard.

Overnight, the Spartans had simply… disappeared. And here is what had happened; Corvas would not let his soldiers go to prison, for he knew they would never surrender their arms. That was in their Law. He knew the public would not be swayed by anything other than suffering brought on by their own delusion.

So he activated Ghost Patrol, a mission they had implanted in their foundation since the Roman Empire. They disappeared. The Domes were locked down, their boats moored and protected by magic, their trucks parked and immovable. Guns, swords, bows, motorcycles, planes, all stored or locked, hidden, or taken. No one could find them. The Domes, the four large bases of the Spartans in the US, had magical barriers that hid the place to all but the eyes of those in danger.

Within a week of disappearing, they were officially outlawed. Yet no one could find them. They hid in plain sight, as civilians. And no one knew who to trust, where they were, or who they were.

Over the next month, monster attacks went up 3000%. And, as they began to suffer, the people saw their mistake. Some of them. The vast majority deluded themselves that the real monsters were preferable to the Spartans. In response to the people crying out for protectors, the US, and adjoining countries allied with them, started the IMCF; the International Monster Control Federation. However, as a branch of the government, it proved remarkably insufficient for the amount of attacks.

Despite the law not being repealed, the people cried out over every available outlet, trying to find the Spartans and get them back. And even though they could not work in numbers, many a Spartan would still stop a crime or monster, should they come across them randomly. Some even hunted at night, killing off monsters as they prowled about, in spite of being forbidden by Corvas and the Ghost Patrol rules.

The people did not know what to do, so they pleaded and begged. They created videos, tweets, posts, and they complained to officials and agents. But the people in charge would not hear of it, so corrupt by the money coming from the ITF into their pockets.

The law stayed the same. So, no answer came from the soldiers.

No Spartans stood.

Not one crest appeared.

Not one person rose, armed and armored, to defend them.

Not one sword was drawn.

And for the whole of sixteen years, legend slowly became myth as the sons and daughters of the gods allowed for the consequences of the peoples’ choice to reign.

Dallas, Texas

Friday

Day One of The Vanishing

Lenox Allan never thought that the hardest thing to do would be NOT killing things. Yet here he was, walking through a storm in the alleys of Dallas, going into hiding for who knows how long without fighting anything. That felt wrong after so many years of killing monsters.

Lenox was one of the top rated Unit Leaders and Titan, the second highest rank in the Legion, of 12 years. His team, Unit Vanguard, was the primary protectors of the Dallas area. Lenox himself had worked his way up through the rank: Spartan, Optio, Centurion, until he finally became a Titan. He was something of a legend purely because of his kill streak, which was, until Ghost Patrol was put into action, one of the best in Spartan history. As an Unbroken son of Zeus, on top of that, he was a distinguished Spartan overall.

All that was gone now. He and so many others had been ordered into hiding. They all knew the drill; it was one of the first things one learns when entering Spartan Basic. Even the children were taught and understood the need for absolute secrecy should they go into hiding with their parents or guardian.

The rain pounded everything unprotected, the streetlights glimmering oddly in the falling water. The weather was affected by the mood of Corvas and other children of Zeus, so it was no surprise to Lenox they were getting a downpour in late May. While a demigod has many abilities, their senses are always dulled by rain… but not children of Zeus. The king of the gods, as well as the god of storms, his children were some of the strongest, automatic leaders and very confident in their own abilities.

This he now had to hide. If someone found out he was a demigod, it would quickly lead to his discovery as a Spartan. Of course, he still planned to hunt monsters. That went without question. If anyone could do so without a full fire team backing them up, it was a Titan. He had to be careful though… for now, if he was found out, he’d go to prison for arrest evasion. If he got caught hunting? He’d be dubbed an immediate KOS. Kill On Sight.

He walked faster through the rain, thinking about his options. He had houses in multiple states and countries, but he’d want to stay in Texas… they had opposed the new law most violently and swore that if the Spartans went to war over it, they would stand with them. That left two or three safe places….

Mid-step he froze, his thoughts dissipating instantly from his mind as he heard something… a crash. A loud one. He turned to his right just in time; he jumped back as half a car came sailing his direction. It tumbled down the alleyway and skidded to a stop in a flash of sparks. He turned and ran the way the car had come, recognizing the damage and screams, the vibrating terror on the air, and yells of fury.

Lenox came out to a street where multiple cars had been flipped, and blood was flowing in the rainwater. In front of him was a demigod, covered in blood that belonged to him and others. A quick look told Lenox all he needed to know. The demigod was obviously lost, mentally and emotionally. He was one of the few that the Spartans didn’t find in time to let them know they weren’t crazy for having abilities and for being able to see creatures most humans found it hard to imagine. He was soaked in rainwater, spit flying from his mouth as he punched another car as it screeched to a halt in front of him. He was clearly insane, which was highly dangerous; demigods with no control of their mental state were like raw balls of energy and power, often feeling no pain and being extremely hard to stop, like a mortal high on a drug. How he had gone insane was easy enough. Demigods with poor upbringing and no reinforcement as to their supernatural side grew up believing they were insane or an oddity. Around late teens, they snapped. And there was truly no bringing them back.

Lenox wasted no time. Regardless of how much this man had been hurt in his life, it gave him no right to break the Laws of The Empowered and hurt others. That was immediately punishable by death, but Lenox was sure it wouldn’t come to that. He sprinted at the demigod faster than the human eye could track and punched him with his fist, his whole bodyweight behind the hit. The enemy went flying through the air and slammed into a truck, bending the sheet metal like it was nothing. Lenox jumped into the air, landing on top of the truck just as the demigod got up from the other side and jumped at him, taking them both through the air and smashing into an apartment complex. Brick and dust rained all around them as Lenox rolled to be on top and managed to elbow the kid twice in the face before a boot landed on his chest and pushed him so hard, he hit the ceiling. Lenox came down and was met by a fist before he hit the floor, slamming into and THROUGH the wall, tumbling into the next apartment. He rolled up and grabbed a coffee table, smashing it over the head of the crazy demigod, which disoriented him.

His mind working at ten times the speed of a regular human, information poured into Lenox’s senses. Behind him was a young man and a woman, still looking shocked that their coffee table had disappeared. They were frozen in the act of making out, half-dressed, and in serious danger. Lenox instantly noted how much space he had between himself, his enemy, and them, and readjusted to have more room to use his legs without possibly taking off one of their heads. The TV was blaring, the tenants of the first apartment must have been out of town, and in the street, sirens could be heard responding to the original issue of multiple cars wrecked and people killed or injured at the beginning of this little rampage.

Still not willing to simply kill a distraught, screwed-up demigod, Lenox noted his pistol at his own waist and knife in his boot, but left them there for now. Instead, he engaged in rapid hand-to-hand combat with the rogue, and was surprised that it was difficult to land a blow. But soon a mistake was made, and Lenox hit the kid with a swift uppercut that smacked his head against the ceiling, then flat-foot kicked him back into the other apartment. The only reason he was taking this much damage was because he could have broken ten ribs and not felt a thing. If Lenox had been anything other than a sixteen-year veteran Titan, he would be in trouble fighting this guy.

The demigod got up immediately and they met in the middle, grappling for the upper hand before Lenox was put in a chokehold. Lenox struggled and wrestled until he got within reach of the wall, then pushed off with both feet, sending them sailing back into the street. The two skidded through the wet grass and mud of the park across the street, and Lenox threw his head back, breaking the nose of the demigod, who instinctively let go, reaching up to hold his nose. In that second, Lenox brought them both to a standing position, kneed him twice in the side, socked him in the stomach, and kidney. Then he used a hammer-fist to smack into the demigod’s unprotected left side, causing his heart to jump and his lungs to lose their air. The Titan then grabbed the kid by the arm, spun him around, twisting it up and back, before kicking his knee out from behind, making him go down.

Enough of this, Lenox spoke in his ear, though he had to raise his voice to be heard over the rain. What are you doing? Why are you wrecking this place?

I don’t owe any explanation to you, fucker! the kid screamed wildly.

The fact I can break your arm with exactly three more pounds of pressure says otherwise, kiddo, Lenox said calmly. He estimated they had around two minutes before one of the cops responding to the initial attack noticed they were there, and Lenox was shot at. This isn’t the way to handle whatever you’re going through, and it won’t help, believe me.

The kid screamed like a rabid animal, then he twisted just right, getting out of the arm hold Lenox had him in. He spun and kicked Lenox in the jaw with the heel of his boot, which hurt. Lenox didn’t like that at all.

Lenox turned and blocked one, two, three blows. Then his fist charged with electricity, and he punched the rogue square in the chest. Three ribs broke as he flew through the air like a bullet, smashing into an entirely different apartment building. Lenox sprinted after him, jumping up and into the hole in the wall.

Then he froze. The demigod was bleeding and obviously ignoring the pain of multiple broken bones; the real problem was that he had pulled a gun from somewhere. But it wasn’t pointing at Lenox. He held it to the head of a young woman who lived there, probably no older than 20… who was holding a baby in her arms.

Whoa. Easy there, buddy. No need to bring others into this. Lenox said, putting his hands out in a calming gesture.

They called me crazy. They would never leave me alone. I’m not crazy! he yelled at Lenox, digging the gun further into the young lady’s head. She was absolutely silent and still, crying quietly while she simply tried to protect her child.

I know you’re not crazy, kiddo. You’re not, I swear. I see them too. The monsters, right? Always the monsters? No one else can see them until they attack though, right? Lenox asked calmly.

Yeah. Yeah, the monsters… they’re there. I promise they’re there. I see them all the time. You just have to look a little harder. I promise I’m not seeing things, Mom. I promise this time it’s there. The kid was rambling, lost in his broken mind. It was honestly sad. It always was. And knowing they were better off dead than rambling and killing people never made it easier for Lenox to kill rogue demigods. But when a demigod went crazy… there was nothing to help them. Physically and emotionally, demigods were pretty similar to mortals. But mentally? They were bred for war. That was the original intent of gods having children with humans; to breed young, vulnerable versions of the gods themselves to fight with each other for the benefit of their parents’ bragging rights. When they snapped by trying to conform to the normal, mortal world, it did something to them that couldn’t be fixed.

But this was no longer simple. Lenox couldn’t decide if he wanted to kill; the kill option had been taken away. It was too risky while there was possibly another casualty at stake. He had to calm this kid down enough to get him away from civilians.

What’s your name, buddy? Lenox asked quietly.

Percy, the kid answered in a whisper, tears streaming down his face. My dad named me that. He said it’s because Perseus had better luck that most of the other demigods. I’m supposed to be lucky. I’m supposed to be good.

Percy, I’m going to need you to put the gun down, okay? Then we can talk somewhere else, how about that? Lenox calmly asked.

Something about that sentence didn’t sit well with Percy. His face contorted. His muscles tightened.

His body spasmed and he pulled the trigger.

Not even a second after the round fired, another shot echoed through the apartments. Lenox’s bullet casing hit the ground at the same time as Percy’s. The rouge demigod’s non-functioning brain splattered against the wall as Lenox’s round hit straight through his forehead.

Time slowed. Percy’s corpse started to fall in a shower of blood, and not just his own. The woman grimaced as the pain of the bullet hit her; the spasm of her captor’s body had saved her brain, but the bullet had partially torn through her throat and collarbone. At point-blank, the round was obviously still inside her.

Lenox caught her as she fell, lowering and placing the baby next to him gently as he immediately tried to staunch the flow of blood coming from her mother’s neck.

The woman was not having it. She pushed Lenox off, somehow retaining strength as her lifeblood fled her, defying death. She grabbed Lenox by the wrist, surprisingly hard. She looked him in the eyes, and Lenox was taken aback. Her gray eyes were shockingly bright and held nothing but determination. Not even fear crossed her expression.

Then Lenox felt what he had only felt a few times before. In the world of gods and monsters, there are the Three Fates, sisters who weave the fate of people and places together, irreversibly. To a mortal or even an inexperienced demigod, this could not be noticed in everyday life. But to an experienced Titan, he had learned to sense when the events happening were more than just time and chance. This was not normal. This had been rewritten by the Fates to happen. This woman was to die here, the child was his responsibility, and there was nothing he could do about either.

Her name…. The woman gasped out, blood dribbling from her mouth. Her name is Winter. Protect her. Please.

I will, I promise. Lenox said, taking her hand in both of his.

Her father… The woman tried to speak but coughed up more blood. Her father is… he’s….

Who is he? What’s his name? Lenox asked, but before she could answer, her body spasmed and she lay still. Her hand slipped from his into a pool of her own blood, next to her child, as if still reaching to comfort her.

Lenox closed his eyes, clenching his jaw, angry with himself. This should not have happened. And yet, if the Fates had willed it, there was nothing he could do. She would have died one way or another, and the child would have found its way to him.

He turned and picked up the baby, who looked at him through her swaddle, with intelligent blue eyes that, though a different color, looked just like her mothers. Lenox tucked her against his chest and jumped through the hole in the wall and ran from the scene. The police were coming, and there would be nothing he could say to convince them, or the people, that he had not simply killed one of his own people and the woman.

This would complicate things. But Lenox had promised. And promises from demigods, especially demigods who were soldiers, could not be broken. There were real consequences to that.

The years went by, and Lenox kept his promise. He cared for Winter as if she was his own child, schooling her at home and keeping up a false identity by getting a desk job. When she was 13, he told her who he was. She was shocked, obviously, but soon adapted to the change and began to train. She longed for the day Lenox would let her hunt with him, and often snuck after him when he went out at night. This created an innate ability for her to move without being seen and follow people without being noticed. And while she was scolded and punished with hard physical tasks when caught, Lenox was always proud that he hadn’t discovered her until later into the night each time.

They were by no means a perfect father-daughter duo. They had disagreements, especially as she got older, and he wouldn’t let her hunt with him. Demigods came of age at sixteen in the Legion but weren’t allowed to go on routine hunts until they were 18. Lenox had already told her he would let her hunt with him when she turned sixteen, which was pushing the Code, but that didn’t necessarily apply in Ghost Patrol.

She questioned many things. Lenox understood that was important, but it did occasionally get on his nerves. Some things he couldn’t explain to her. It was just better than the alternative, and she had to be satisfied with that until someone came along who could give her the real answer.

Lenox retained his armor and weapons from the Legion, as they were undoubtedly some of the most important pieces of equipment that no Spartan was allowed to lose track of. Their armor was modern in fashion, split into smaller pieces under the Kevlar material that made them look like muscled heroes. The joints and torso had metal coverage, but it was split into smaller pieces to be flexible. The metal itself is called Tiranium, the strongest metal known to man or monster. Tyrion discovered it, as you could guess, due to its name. There are stronger and weaker versions of Tiranium, the strongest being enchanted by magic to be invulnerable, the weakest still being able to stop a direct blow from a sword or straight shot from a sniper-rifle, strong as steel but only a quarter of the weight.

And their helm… oh their helm is something to behold. The eyes glow in the color of the rank they hold, as does the crest. It holds no features except for those two, bright, cold, MURDEROUS eyes. When the eyes turn on their victim, their blood freezes in their veins. Their heart shoots adrenaline with every beat, and terror reigns in their mind. In that moment, the victim loses all semblance of fighting. They forget how to fight. The only thing they know is that they want to get as far away from those eyes as possible.

Flare. The Spartans had it, understood it, and used it. It impressed countries and allies and intimidated the weak and cruel. I can’t even describe their Court dress. They look like royalty every time they wear it.

This was part of the culture of the Spartans, and Winter learned it very quickly. She was fast to pick these things up. Lenox still had no idea who her godly parent was, because for some reason she showed no elemental signs during her childhood or otherwise. Not even when her emotions were high, which is most often when such things come about. Despite being taught every lesson that any other Initiate was taught in order to control their emotions, she was a reactive