Here came the warriors in the sky.

Reiji gazed out from the balcony, craning his neck to see men and women flying. They came like an invasion, soaring with the might of a tempest over the balustrade that guarded the front of the Ozaro Palace.

He had never seen the flyers from Aradack before. The tales he'd heard depicted their abilities, but the stories failed to tell their splendor.

The clouds fell under their powers of flight as they glided through the air above the palace. The sunlight bled crimson from the reflections of their red and black striped zarok clothes.

An amused smile spread across Reiji's face, and a short laugh burst from his chest. He fell in awe and envy, gaping at the scene before him.

Who wouldn't want to fly? His shoulders rose at the thought. His legs tensed, and he hopped as if he wanted to leap off the balcony and follow the flyers to the sky—to a dream.

"They're here! The Maharlika are here!" Reiji shouted, announcing to the world.

Gongs rang in the distance, diverting his attention. Movement from below dragged his eyes to the gates, where he saw a parade led by a bannerman carrying the insignia of the royal family—thorny vines woven onto a long strip of green flag, fluttering with the wind.

Behind the bannerman at the center of the convoy, guards and soldiers in livery marched, surrounding a dark jadeite carriage.

"They're back!" Reiji exclaimed with excitement as soon as he saw the wagon, turning from the balcony and starting into a sprint. "Papa is back!"

"My Matu!" He heard his attendant cry out, but he kept running.

He made it out to the corridor and rushed down a stairwell, wishing his legs were longer so he could take the steps two at a time. Despite his growth spurt in the last year, he was still shorter than most children his age, but he was fast, and he hastened to the courtyard, his heart beating with eagerness like the quickened pounding of the gongs.

His green barong, a blouse made of pineapple fabric, crumpled with his movements. He detested wearing the formal attire his attendant forced him into, but it was necessary for the occasion.

When he came out into the courtyard, he skidded to a walking pace, smoothing the front of his barong threaded with intricate patterns of leaves and flowers.

The rhythm of the gongs stopped, and so did the parade. The flyers in the sky started to descend, dropping like rain on the open grounds.

At the tail end of the convoy, warriors from Daranu followed. Yellow stripes accented their zarok attires, distinguishing them from the Aradacko. They could not fly, but they were stoic all the same, marching with proud, broad, tattooed shoulders that told the accounts of their fierce customs.

The courtyard became a sage forest of soldiers' livery and scarlet strips of the Mahalika's zarok.

As Reiji neared, he refocused his eyes on the carriage. And when an attendant opened the door, he saw the Kaharaza's face in the passenger seat.

"Papa." He strode quicker to meet his father.

It had been almost a month since the convoy left. Reiji had begged his father to take him on the journey, but he was forbidden. As the only heir to the throne, the best protection for him was to stay within the walls of the Ozaro Palace.

He had sulked for days, centered on how unfair it was to be left behind. But his fit ended briefly, and in the following weeks, he had only missed his father too much to be furious.

Now, he was only filled with the joy of a child to see them back, and he submitted to the overpowering grin that spread over his face.

A tall man wearing a green barong ornamented with round ivory pearls stepped out of the carriage and beamed a smile. He raised his hand. "My son," he said.

Reiji took his father's hand and pressed the knuckle to his forehead—a greeting and respect for the older generations in the family and traditional practice in their kingdom. "My Kaharaza. Beautiful blue skies," he said before releasing him.

The Kaharaza took a deep breath, and his eyes roved over Reiji, sharing the longing. When he finished, he patted him on the arm. "Go to the Kahani," he ordered.

A woman came out of the carriage behind the Kaharaza.

Reiji reached for the Kahani's hand and gave the same respect, touching the back of her fingers to his forehead. "Mama," he said. He had missed her too, and the warmth of her touch was comforting against his weeks of brooding.

The Kahani gave a tired smile, pulling her hand back to her side and raising her chin. The low chest line of her viridescent mestiza elongated her neck, flanked by the rounded butterfly shoulders of the dress. A necklace of bright pearls rested over her collarbones. "Come. We have business to attend to."

The Kaharaza had already walked ahead, and the Kahani followed. The long train of her skirt trailed behind her.

Reiji took three steps to catch up but stopped and looked around him, distracted by the Aradacko and the Darish.

They were Maharlika, people of the warrior class. They walked in disorganized patterns, unlike the soldiers and guards marching in perfect lines. But these were the men and women called to war—those who would serve and protect the kingdom of Daracka. The best fighters from Daranu and the Rakitt Maharlika—sky warriors—trained to hunt and kill from Aradack.

His father had tried to explain their importance to the war, but Reiji had yet to understand it. For someone so young as himself—someone without experience—the depths of the significance of battle strategies were unfathomable.

He stood at the center of the courtyard as the warriors passed him. He observed the patterns of their zarok—red and inky black lines with accents of amber or azure.

Some exposed their chests with open vests, and some wore no tops at all, naked from the waist up, revealing the dark geometric tattoos that crawled over their skins. All of them trekked on bare feet.

The Aradacko carried their kampit—warrior knives—sheathed at their sides.

The Darish hung threads of bones on their hips, dangling from their belts.

When the end of the parade passed Reiji, a Maharlika woman from Daranu with dark brown hair and brown eyes, stopped beside him.

Reiji turned to look at her, curious at why she halted.

He glanced at her bare belly beneath her breast wrap, where a cord circled her waist attached to the tiny bones that rattled when she moved.

Rumors had said that the bones were a source of power for the Darish's ability to sense what was to come.

If the Aradacko were children of the sky, the Darish were children of time.

"My Matu?" The woman pressed her right hand over her heart and bowed low.

"Yes, that's me." Reiji did the same, bending and giving a respectful greeting with a hand over his chest. "Beautiful blue skies. Welcome to the Ozaro Palace. I hope you will find your stay to your liking." He had been taught to greet guests this way, and the script was typical for everyone who came.

"I'm grateful." The woman straightened. "But we will not stay for long. Most of us have already gone south for the war. We are here only to settle payments."

Reiji nodded, but he didn't know what to say. He hadn't expected to speak with any of the visitors. Being political was yet to be something for him to learn—deprived of the necessary knowledge.

His earlier exhilaration shrunk into uneasiness.

The woman stared at him for a moment, and the brown of her eyes changed to the glowing shade of polished copper. She swallowed and grimaced.

Reiji stepped back at the way she looked at him. "I—well—" He stumbled over the words. "May the old kings and the forgotten gods be with you," he said, trying to end the conversation.

The woman huffed out a sigh. "Forgive me, My Matu." She bowed, then turned and walked to follow the rest of the Maharlika into the main keep, but she paused after a few steps.

Reiji waited. They were still near enough to talk.

The warrior looked over her shoulder and gave him a regretful smile, one that carried all the weight of a sorrowful heart. "The forgotten gods have sealed my fate. I will die in this war that you will never even see." She stared at him, but her eyes seemed distant as if she was gazing through him and seeing something else. The brown in her irises gleamed. "But you will lead your own war someday. And you will kill the one you love."

Then she continued her steps, leaving Reiji confused and dazed in doubt.