Chapter Text
The Echidna were a proud people. Strong and mighty. Brave and dutiful. They did not shy away from danger, nor did they cower in the face of an enemy. Some called them the most powerful clan in the galaxy. Stories of their strength and prowess reached people all across the lands. They were respected, though oftentimes feared due to their warrior lifestyle. However, the echidnas were not ruthless or barbaric. They did not needlessly harm others, nor did they actively seek out battle.
They were led by an echidna named Pachacamac, chief of the Knuckles tribe. He was a wise and noble man, respected by many and praised for his leadership. A brave warrior, he valiantly led his fellow echidnas into any battle they may face. The chief was highly esteemed amongst almost all civilizations due to his noble rule of the clan.
This would not always be the case.
Hidden beneath the earth lay seven gems. For years they laid hidden, the world ignorant of their existence until a burrowing echidna happened upon a strange, pulsing energy in the ground and decided to investigate. Going deeper, the hole was soon filled with a bright light as the echidna was momentarily blinded by the sudden glow radiating from the gems. Believing he had stumbled across some valuable treasure, the gems were returned to the tribe, taken to the chief so he could do with them as he saw fit.
Chief Pachacamac could sense the power, the energy pulsing from the gems. Power he had never felt before, all at the tips of his fingers. Power demanding to be used, demanding to be released and harnessed. Pachacamac succumbed to the calling, unable to resist the temptation of pure power.
Soon, the peaceful echidna tribe was feared by all, stretching their authority beyond their borders into the surrounding land. What was once a respected and noble tribe was now detested and feared. Pachacamac used the power from the emeralds to destroy nearby towns, wreaking havoc on any who would oppose him and his warriors. Those who survived could only describe what had happened as chaos.
But the power wasn’t enough. Despite his authority and rule, it wasn’t enough. Pachacamac wanted more.
The seven emeralds, powerful as they were, were erratic, unpredictable, and chaotic. Those who described them as “emeralds of chaos” were fully justified in their assessment of the jewels. They were, by nature, chaotic. And while chaos was powerful, it was also unstable and unruly. The emeralds needed a unifier. A way to keep their powers in check, concentrated, and focused. They needed control.
The chief was able to combine the seven gems, commanding their powers to become one, all powerful emerald. An emerald with unmatched power, able to control the seven chaotic emeralds and turn your thoughts into reality. The Master Emerald.
Pachacamac had gone mad with power. No matter how much he conquered, how many towns he brought to their knees, how much devastation and chaos he spread, it was never enough for him. There seemed to be no end in sight to his rule.
He needed to be stopped. He had to be stopped, and yet no one dared to challenge him. No one, except for the Owls.
The Owls, like the Echidnas, were respected and powerful warriors. Though, unlike the echidnas, they had not been corrupted with power, resorting only to battle when absolutely necessary. And now, it was necessary. It was not the time for peace; it was time for war. If Pachacamac wanted battle, the owls would give one to him. They believed that no one should be allowed to wield such a power, so they faced the chief head on.
Many warriors fell that day. Eventually, they separated the chief from the emerald. A powerful blow removed the gem from his core and the Owls took it before he could reach out to its power. Not willing to give up the emerald, Pachacamac continued to attack the owls, his warriors following him into battle, but they were not strong enough that day. Very few warriors returned to the tribe, wounded and defeated.
The Owls knew the Master Emerald was far too powerful to be in the wrong hands. No one person should control such a weapon. For the safety of the world and for the galaxy, it was hidden away.
The echidnas believed it was their clan’s right to have the emeralds, the owls having stolen what was theirs. The now-rival clans would continue to battle ruthlessly, the echidnas trying to find the emeralds and the owls defending the secrets at the cost of their lives.
When both tribes had nearly fought themselves to extinction, the battles ceased. Yet the echidnas never lost sight of their goal.
No matter how many years passed, no matter how many battles waged on, no matter how much blood was shed, they would reclaim what was stolen from them.
A pair of bright purple eyes peaked from behind a rack stacked with spears, curiosity and excitement making them shine even brighter.
Up ahead, rows of echidnas were lined up, spears in hand, practicing the proper form and technique for handling the weapon. The warriors seemed perfectly in-sync, thrusting the spears forward in unison before drawing them back into a defensive position.
Amongst the rows of echidna stood out a single individual, dressed in a dark gray tunic lined with fur. Around his neck was a necklace adorned with five red feathers, and from his headpiece stuck out five large, blue feathers. His front two spines were wrapped loosely with tape, faded paint still faintly seen from under them. Like the rest of the warriors, he also held a spear in his hand, though his was held upright as he walked amongst the rows, watching their technique, correcting any errors. The head of the tribe. Chief Pakal.
From behind the rack of spears, the little echidna tried his best to copy the movements of the warriors, using a small stick he’d found in the forest in place of an actual weapon. It made him feel strong. He was too young to train with the big echidnas; his mother told him that you had to be seven years old to begin training, and that was still four years away. The child was determined to get an early start, though. He would be ready when his time to properly train came, and he would make his tribe proud.
Every so often, the boy would stop mimicking the movements, more content to sit in his hiding space and simply watch the training instead. Certainly this was just as beneficial as trying to copy the movements himself.
He was essentially frozen with interest, taking in every jab and block, every shift in stance, every adjustment in their grip on the weapon. Completely and utterly mesmerized, he wanted nothing more than to be standing in one of those rows, his own spear in hand. A real spear. To be a warrior like in the stories his mother would tell him, a warrior like his father. And one day, he would be.
But not yet. No matter how badly he wished to be a warrior, there was much training to do. He would have to practice and hone his skills to perfection. When he was old enough, he could then officially start training and preparing for the trials that would prove he was worthy to defend his tribe’s honor. And one day, once he was finally a true warrior, he would fight. He would fight with every bit of strength in him.
The sound of wood clashing against something solid tore him from his thoughts, his eyes once again traveling to the training grounds.
The warriors had paired up, spears swapped for wooden staffs lacking the sharpened point. Each pair appeared to be battling each other, though the young echidna knew that wasn’t the case. They were testing their skills, seeing how well they held up in a mock-battle. ‘Sparring,’ he had heard his father call it once.
Just like before, the chief walked amongst the pairs, studying their techniques with watchful eyes. Every so often, he would stop two of the warriors, telling them something that the young echidna could not hope to understand from such a distance, before the practice would resume. Chief Pakal would remain, watching the two until he was satisfied with the improvement, moving on to observe another pair.
The boy wished he could get closer. He wanted to see more of the pairs; from his current position behind the weapons rack, he could only see the frontmost groups, though he knew there were multiple more behind them. But he was already risking getting in trouble by being here. Children were not allowed on the training grounds, and for good reason. With so many weapons, sharp objects, and dangerous obstacles, a wandering child, like himself, was bound to get hurt.
No, getting closer would only risk someone seeing him. Getting to watch this was more than he would normally get, anyways, so the child resigned himself to stay put.
The sun was ever so slowly falling closer to the horizon, the sky turning a pleasant orange that washed warmth over the training grounds. Night would be upon them soon, and the chief seemed content to end training for today. The warriors had done well and needed to rest.
The boy ducked behind the weapons rack completely as the warriors began to leave, either returning to their huts or congregating with their fellow tribesmen, taking their spears as they went. He knew he needed to leave as well.
Soon the training grounds were empty, and the little echidna decided that this would be the best time to return home.
“I know you are here, little one.”
The voice stopped him in his tracks. He had believed everyone had left, but it would seem that one remained. A voice he recognized, one that any in the tribe would recognize. Chief Pakal.
“Come, Taavi. Out from where you are hiding.”
There was no reason to hide any longer. Chief Pakal knew he was here, and there was no use attempting to leave. Putting on the bravest face he could manage, Taavi stood and walked out from behind the rack, glancing around momentarily before his eyes settled on Pakal. The weapon was no longer in his hand and his headpiece had been removed.
Taavi’s eyes fell to his feet now that he was out in the open, hands clasped nervously behind his back. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be here but he had come anyway.
Soft movement pulled Taavi’s gaze away from the ground to see that Pakal had knelt onto one knee, a gentle smile on his face. It was the chief who broke the silence.
“May I ask what you are doing here, my boy?”
The child’s eyes fell yet again, afraid that he would be in trouble once he admitted. “I’m sorry, father. I just wanted to see the big warriors practicing.”
His voice most certainly didn’t waver, and his eyes definitely did not sting with unshed tears. He’d broken one of the rules; he would be punished, wouldn’t he? The thought frightened him, and Taavi expected his father to be disappointed and ashamed that his own son had gone against his words.
Instead, his father stretched out a hand in his direction.
Confusion overtook his fear in that moment, finally meeting his father’s eyes. There was no anger in them, no shame or disappointment. There was only the warmness that Taavi always saw in them, the edges turned slightly upwards in a smile. Fear completely forgotten, Taavi stepped forward and took his father’s hand. Pakal, in turn, sat down fully on the ground and picked up his boy, placing the child in his lap.
By now the sun had sunk even closer to the horizon, flecks of dark blue filling the sky as the brighter stars were already visible. The village soon began to glow dimly, lights from various huts fluttering gently with candlelight as darkness began to fall. It wouldn’t be long until the sun vanished from view, the moon taking its place in the sky.
The two were silent for a few moments. Pakal held his son close while Taavi ever so slowly nestled against his chest, reveling in the safety and security he felt despite there being no danger at all.
Eventually the chief spoke up.
“Do you know why children are not supposed to be on the training grounds?”
Taavi didn’t answer immediately, though he pretty much had an answer in mind. He found it kind of strange that his father would say ‘children’ despite him being the only child in the village. The others had all reached an age to be considered adults.
“Because all the sharp things.”
His father smiled again, his expression soft as he gently placed one of his gloved hands on top of Taavi’s head.
“Yes, but that is not the only reason. Do you know what the other reason might be?”
The child thought for a moment, wondering what other reason there could possibly be. The weapons were dangerous; he thought that was the extent of the rule. Unable to think of any possible answer, he shook his head no.
“Being a warrior is one of the most honorable duties in our clan. We must be strong, prepared for any danger that we may come across, never backing down in the face of fear. We have..” He paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully as he was speaking to a child. His child. “..enemies. Enemies that would like to break our homes and hurt our people.”
Taavi, though fully invested in what his father was telling him, felt his expression falter. Why would people want to hurt them?
“Why are they like that? Are they bad people?”
“Some of them, yes. Not everyone outside our tribe is bad, my boy, but there are very bad people out there.”
Feeling his son trembling slightly in his grasp, Pakal decided he needed to reassure him.
“That is why the warriors train so intensely. To be prepared. To stop any bad people that may come. It is why we are strong. Because when we fight, we are fighting to defend each other. To let no one from our tribe get hurt.”
Taavi’s eyes were wide with interest now, similarly to when he had been watching the warriors training. Like he was on the edge of his seat, wanting to hear more. And then his face scrunched slightly in confusion, Pakal chuckling lightly at the way his son’s nose seemed to crinkle in thought.
“But why can’t kids be on the training grounds?” He asked, and Pakal couldn’t help but feel proud that Taavi had remembered how their conversation had started. His boy had always been bright, and given enough years it was no doubt he would have quite the intelligent mind.
“Because, my son, war is no place for a child.” He paused for just a brief moment, letting Taavi process the words before continuing. “It is a noble cause, and a valiant duty to pursue. There is no greater honor than defending others. But war can be a terrible thing. We will not win every battle, no matter how hard we may fight. There will always be losses.”
“But..why?” It was clear to Pakal that his son was not fully grasping what he meant when he said ‘losses.’
“Sometimes in battle, the warriors do not return home. Sometimes the battle is too hard, too difficult. Too much for a warrior. Sometimes their enemy is stronger, and they are defeated. That sort of life is not fit for a child, nor is it fair for the adults to force children into such a life.”
“Is that why we have different jobs that aren’t warriors?” Taavi asked after a moment of thought. Pakal nodded.
“It is. Healers are just as important as warriors, as are hunters and those who tend to the gardens.”
Although, regardless of your chosen duty, all tribesmen would receive training to some degree. There were some battles that required every able-bodied adult, no matter what skill they possessed. Taavi knew this, of course, but his heart was already fully set on being a warrior one day.
However, he seemed to understand more now. Being a warrior meant you had to lose sometimes, too.
Taavi looked back up at his father now, determination and understanding flickering in his eyes. “I’m sorry I broke the rules. I won’t do it again.”
Pakal once again rested his large hand on top of Taavi’s head, rubbing it softly and grinning when his boy leaned into it automatically.
“I know you are going to be a strong warrior, my son. Maybe even stronger than all of us.”
Taavi looked up in disbelief. “Even stronger than you?”
“I’m sure of it, Taavi. I know you will make us all proud.”
In Pakal’s mind, Taavi had already made him so proud. His boy, so determined to honor his clan, yet so caring. He was determined to keep Taavi away from bitter war as long as possible, if only to keep his caring nature and his innocence alive.
War was no place for a child, and he intended to keep his boy away from it for as long as he could.
Taavi seemed excited at the notion of being the strongest warrior in the tribe, the boy’s face lighting up in a smile that somehow seemed to shine in the darkness that had surrounded them, illuminated only by the moon’s glow and the soft lights now shining more vibrantly from the village.
In a way, Pakal preferred nights to day. Days were filled with training, organizing hunts, speaking with his generals, and making sure the village was running properly. He was their leader and he would not shy away from his duties. But nights brought peace, a calm quietness so vastly different from the rustle and chatter of the day: spears clanging together was replaced with the crackling of a fire, and an arrow whistling through the air replaced with a gentle breeze. Nights brought time with his family, which seemed so sparse and rare these days.
Time with his wife, his love, holding each other away from the noise of the village, close enough to the ocean to hear the waves gently rolling against the shore. Time with Taavi, his dear boy, carrying him to the small bed they had made just for him, holding him in his arms and feeling the calm breaths as he slowly drifted off to sleep.
No, he would never shy away from his duties. But how badly he wished to be with his family forever.
A small hand gently grabbing onto one of his spines reminded Pakal of where he was, looking down to see his son staring up at him.
“Are you okay?”
He couldn’t help but grin at his son. Full of love, full of joy. He wanted nothing more than to hold Taavi in his arms. “Yes, my boy. I am more than okay while you are with me.”
He lifted the child up, pressing his forehead against Taavi’s, his other hand resting on the little echidna’s back. Taavi’s face was lit up in a grin when his father pulled away, leaning forward until his head was resting in the crook of Pakal’s neck.
Pakal shifted his grip so that Taavi would be more comfortable, standing from where they’d been sitting in the grass. He made sure to collect his spear and headpiece before leaving the training grounds, making his way towards the village.
The training grounds were on the southern edge of the village, away from the huts so as to not disturb the other echidnas during their training sessions. It was not a long trip, however, taking no more than 5 minutes to reach the main area of the village, perhaps even shorter. Before long, Pakal and Taavi were amongst other echidnas, various fires lit as some were preparing meals for their families. Soft chatter echoed gently throughout the village, most of the echidnas greeting their chief respectfully as he passed by. A few greeted little Taavi as well, offering a smile and wave to the boy. He happily greeted them in return, the hand not wrapped around his father’s neck waving back.
Their hut was in the center of the village, but it did not take long to reach it. The lights illuminating from the inside confirmed that Patli, Pakal’s dear wife and Taavi’s beloved mother, was already home.
Pakal walked to the doorway, setting Taavi down. The boy immediately ran to his mother, Patli crouching down to greet him with a warm hug. Pakal soon joined them, Patli standing with Taavi in her arms. Her husband embraced her in a hug as well now, gently rubbing his muzzle against the top of her head.
How he wished it could always be like this. The three of them together, holding each other in a way that made everything else suddenly not matter. That made everything outside of their hut a distant memory, if only for a brief moment.
Eventually the embrace ended, Pakal turning to put his gear away as Patli sat down, holding Taavi on her knee while the boy faced her.
“And where have you been, my dear angel?” She asked, eyes warm and soft as she cupped his chin with one of her hands.
“He’s been with me, my love,” Pakal answered from the other side of the room. Taavi nodded enthusiastically before speaking himself.
“He taught me a bunch of warrior stuff and said one day I’ll be the strongest warrior! Even stronger than him!” His face was lit up with excitement, his eyes scrunching from a large smile.
“Even stronger than him? That is very strong indeed,” she answered, standing briefly to place Taavi in his own seat as she moved to bring tonight’s meal to their table. It was a simple dish. The hunters had had a very successful hunt today, bringing back plenty enough to provide for the village.
Soon Pakal had joined the two at the table and the three ate together, a serene moment that Pakal and Patli would not take for granted. As much as they hated to admit, their individual duties often kept them away. Many nights, Pakal would not return home until well after all the fires had been put out. It was not as often that Patli would be forced to return home late, but no matter what, they made sure one of them was always present at home for their boy.
Taavi loved to run around and explore the village. As the youngest tribesman, the other echidnas always looked out for him when he was not home, but once night fell, Taavi always returned to their hut. One night he had returned and neither of the two had been there, leaving the boy trembling and afraid, all but attaching himself to his parents once they had returned.
They knew it was because he was still so young, but no child deserved to return to an empty home. And since that night, one of them has always been waiting for him.
The meal was soon finished, and try as he might to suppress it, a yawn fought its way out of Taavi, his eyes blinking slowly as sleepiness threatened. Patli gathered his plate as Pakal lifted him from his seat, carrying him to the opposite side of the hut where their beds all lay.
The little echidna was almost asleep by the time they got there, a hand softly clutching one of his father’s spines as he began to fall asleep. Pakal gently pried his hand loose, lowering Taavi onto the bed, kneeling at his side as he pulled a small blanket up to his chin. For a brief moment Taavi’s eyes flicked open, smiling at his father.
“Goodnight, my boy.”
He drifted off to sleep, dreaming of clashing spears and warm embraces.