Bandara was not an easy place to return to: it could hide from the common worlds whose periphery it inhabited. But Bandara never had, in all its years, completely disappeared.

Gather the shards of your courage. Patch together what resolve you can. We'll find this thing - and kill it.

Life was never simple, happiness never where you thought you'd left it, and right and wrong no more fixed than clouds in the sky.

So some will be left who remember.

And what do the Theban hoplites see in this extended rending of the sky, this white-bright glory of Enlil's lightning? The future, but not theirs: paired cavalry fighters; formed ranks of armored death; grim men on their tall horses with lightning limning weapons tailored to the task; men spoiling for a fight if the gods allowed - the Sacred Band of Stepsons, out from shadows and the dark.

Niko's angular face caught a flicker of firelight and Tempus saw his future there: sharp purpose, discipline, and power in perfect balance; love of man and gods, and mercy transcending all. If war ever wore a more humane face, this one would make it so.

Valor was in Nikodemos, unquestionable, and commitment like trees to stand or night to fall.