The barbarians came when he was fifteen.

They came in countless numbers, riding fierce beasts and bringing slaughter. Everyone said they would never breach the city walls but everyone was wrong. Soon all the boy could hear was screaming and dying throes.
“Should I kill them for you?” he asked his mother.

She ran her hands through his hair.

 

“No, Dear Sunshine. Let them come.”


Let them slaughter, she meant. He understood.