Free Kastori Tribulations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 3) by Stephen Allan Page A

behind them had vanished, and she could finally speak without breaking down.
    “We lost Adanus at too young an age on a day that should have been joyful and full of celebration.”
    Yeah. Thanks, Dad. All because you didn’t tell us.
    “But the thing we must do is not speak ill of the man, for he cannot defend himself, and it does little good to speak of his mistakes.”
    Not true. We can learn from his mistakes. All of them.
    Typhos felt Fargus looking his way and did his best to shut his thoughts off to avoid the elder’s judgmental stare. Compassion. Dad was a good man.
    “Adanus means something to everyone on Anatolus, from the children just learning their magic to the elders who will soon join him. I will speak today about what he meant to me.”
    Typhos felt his shoulders arch and tighten in preparation for a potentially awkward speech.
    “Without Adanus, I am not chief. Without Adanus, I do not have a beautiful son, one of the few people who are always there for me.”
    Thanks, Mom. And I’ll never leave you. That, I will say and not break.
    “Without Adanus, I do not have the confidence to pursue the things that I have. Adanus means everything to me, and without him, it will be a tough life, but a life that he gave me the necessary tools to face.”
    Her voice shook as she went further. When she paused, she took a second to weep. Again, all Kastori observed without so much as a scratch on the face to distract her. Typhos gulped silently, hoping his mother would not collapse in front of everyone. She stopped crying after about a dozen seconds and resumed.
    “Adanus is not just one of the greatest chiefs we have ever had. He was a loving husband and an amazing father.”
    Lies.
    Typhos didn’t care if everyone’s eyes shifted to him. I doubt I’ll ever think otherwise after the way he left.
    “Adanus’ greatest legacy is not what he did as chief. It is what he left behind—the man Typhos will become.”
    She’s got that right. But he will have little to do with how I turn out.
    “Let us remember on this night the difference Adanus brought to all of us. We have lost a former chief, a husband, and a father, but more than that, we lost a Kastori, and such a moment requires grieving and gratitude simultaneously. We grieve his loss, but we have appreciation for the gains he gave us in our life.”
    Aida gave a short bow and walked to Typhos in silence, her head down. Typhos met her a few feet in front of the first row and hugged her. She collapsed into his shoulders, the tears coming at an accelerating rate.
    Fargus moved to take her place and looked out on the masses.
    “Thank you, Aida, for your brave speech in your time of mourning,” he said. “Does anyone else wish to speak?”
    No. No one else had better either.
    Typhos knew people would wonder if he would speak. Even Fargus, generally one to never pressure anyone, cast his eyes on the boy, but Typhos wouldn’t speak even if it guaranteed him a week with the council. Only the guarantee of becoming a councilor or chief would make him talk, and even that would just result in the briefest of words, unprepared and not as compelling or sympathetic as his mother’s.
    Fargus waited several beats, to the point that Typhos wondered if he wouldn’t continue until someone else chose to speak. Nope. No. I will just berate my father and curse him out. Not now, at least. Probably never.
    “Very well,” Fargus said.
    A Kastori ran over to him with the torch in hand, and Fargus held it aloft for all the Kastori to see. He turned to face the pyre.
    Last chance. If ever you want people to remember your words for Dad, this is it.
    Fargus took enough steps that he could place the flame beneath the pyre, reducing his father’s body to ashes.
    You sure you don’t want to say something? Anger will subside—I think—but the flames won’t. He wasn’t a terrible dad. He was a good dad. He just wasn’t there enough to be a great dad. He loved you, even if it never