Jörð Arena
Outer Halls
Rommie! Apologizing ahead of time!
Romulus sighed as he read the message on his tablet.
Damn it, Buddha. He thought. What're you doing?
"Something wrong, Sir?" Summanus asked as Romulus typed away.
What're you planning?
Nothing you need to worry about.
You know I will, regardless.
Are you still upset about the Chapel?
No, but we got lucky. Extremely lucky.
I'm not going to take that as a sign to stop. You know me! When I feel the desire to do something, I do it!
Romulus sighed as he pocketed the tablet.
"Buddha's doing something again," He answered. Romulus eyed the gladius at his hip. Mold, he might make things worse.
He hasn't yet! Trust him. She said in his mind.
Easier said than done with him.
…Good point.
Jörð Arena
Outside the East Gate Entrance Hall
"Macha, you sure this is the right side?" Nuada asked, leaning against the wall.
"Nu, you asked me twice now," She answered, sitting on the bench next to him. "The sign above the doors says 'East Gate.'"
Nuada looked up again and grimaced.
"Your worrying is making me worry," She said. "Marduk and Sarpa told us they found him, and they talked. Got an earful from them, but they said he's on his way."
"After Romulus challenged him." Nuada shook his head.
"You'd think he'd be more hesitant to fight him."
"Romulus, in all the years we've known him, never hesitated. It's both impressive and sheer stubbornness."
"Sounds like someone I know," Macha said, eyeing him.
"Same, but I never held it against you," He said, smiling.
Macha love-tapped his right forearm. She leaned forward, lowering her head.
"Nu?"
"Don't say it."
She closed her eyes. "It haunts me, you old goat. Please let me."
Nuada looked down at her and gently rubbed her back.
"If you're beating yourself up, I won't let you. Not now, not ever."
"It's not that…I just…" He felt her tense up under his palm. "Our boy…what if…what if all this is too much for him?"
"Was it for us?"
Eire
Eons Ago
Long before the Stables. Long before the Heavens as they are now known. The choices that would one day answer Nuada's question began here.
In a large open field, stars hung in the night sky above, and one young goddess stood before the first crossroads of her life.
And they were not pleased with her.
You are the godling who hears us?! The Black Stallion spoke, staring down a young Macha, her green eyes full of horror and awe.
To the Stallion's right, the White Pegasus stared daggers at her, stretching its wings as the Red Unicorn to the Stallion's left huffed fire from its nostrils. Behind the Godling, the Pale Hippocampi lowered its head just above her left shoulder, its cold and wet body filling her with dread by its presence.
"I…I do," She whispered, her voice almost stifled by their presence.
Coward! The Red Unicorn roared in her mind as it neighed. She hears, but does not carry herself! Unworthy!
She is to hold the Office, yet stands before us so…diminished? The Pegasus said. Are we to accept this as an insult from Metatron and send her back as we deem fit?
Not necessary. The Hippocampi purred. He has his reasons. Maybe there's something about her that's intriguing, or not. Maybe she's a sacrifice?
Enough prattling! The Stallion roared, forcing the other three into silence. Child! State your name!
Macha looked to her right.
Do not seek his comfort!He put you here because he has faith in you!
She turned back to the Stallion, confused.
To stand here, to hear us, means there is potential. We acknowledge your presence, but NOT your bearing. You must prove you are worthy!
"What must I do?" She asked.
Be willing in your bearing and execute the Office! If you are unworthy, you will know!
Macha locked eyes with the stallion.
I…I don't know if I want this… She thought.
All want Power and Authority! The Pegasus spoke. It is the consequences they shirk from! A typical being: Desire but no discernment.
"Hey!" Macha yelled, trying to sound brave. "I could have said no to all this!"
That sickly chill grew. The Hippocampi's head touched her shoulder.
Then why didn't you? It asked.
"Because…because I want to help everyone."
Help?! The Red Unicorn roared. This Office does not 'help!' It is a duty! You are not 'helping' by doing your duty! The other is going above and beyond this station!
The Stallion stomped.
I will not reprimand a third time. It spoke.
The other three fell silent again.
We are not here to cater to your whims. We have a mission. We ARE a mission. To hold the Office is not 'helping.' It is 'doing.' Do you understand?
"I…I don't, but if I don't do it, what happens?" She asked.
Are you thinking up possibilities?
She nodded.
They are paltry to the horrors that will run wild should we be left unfocused. Unused.
She felt dread wash over her as countless images and atrocities, real and imagined, washed over her. He…was in all of them. His bare, bronze-like skin shone under the sunlight as he walked through battlefields filled with corpses. His beautiful green eyes and slicked-back red hair contrasted his fanged underbite and the bony growth on his forehead. She remembered watching his thick hands grip and crush life from anything they held. She saw the protrusion open, and saw what was under…stare at her.
She started crying, her hands balling into fists as his monstrous hands aimed her way.
*Never…never again…*She thought. She looked up, staring daggers at the Stallion.
It snorted and rose before stomping down. The Earth shook under its hooves.
That is the look of one who suffered loss. Who understands what the Office prevents. Now answer! Will you hold it?! Will you bear the responsibility and wield it wisely, knowing what you may suffer with if misused?!
She nodded, pursing her lips to keep from scowling.
The world around her was distorted. Twisting and turning. Power flowed from the four into her body, and she felt her ears grow and the makings of a tail sprout from her spine. Her green eyes burned red as her fury was met with power in equal measure.
Harbinger Macha! The four roared. Heed the call of the Office! Wear and execute it well! All four bowed their heads. Macha looked to the right, eyeing a weary Metatron, his hair still jet black and his cyan eyes meeting hers.
Eire
Centuries Later
Macha rushed down the battlefield, followed by a pale aura, towards hordes of armored soldiers. Her eyes roared alive as their bronze skin, scales, and gills that were hidden amongst their armor came into view.
She roared as she crashed through them, her body erupting in pain as bone broke and muscle tore. Her fists tore through Fomorian armor and flesh, her kicks cut through anything in their path. One tried to slash her, but she stepped back, avoiding it before clamping her hand down on its head and ripping it off. Golden blood spewed from the stump as she threw the head at another Fomor and continued her slaughter.
Eire
Outside Tir Na Noog
Soon After
The city roared alive as several Gods and Goddesses in mismatched armor walked down the main road. A slightly older Macha walked amongst them, her arms wrapped against her body and bandages wrapped around her head, covering her left eye. A long coat draped over her shoulders as her horse ears twitched now and then. The large double doors to the castle opened, letting the small force in.
Before long, they stood before their King, the rotund, but stout and handsome, Dagda. He rose from his immaculate throne, his ornate armor shining over his massive frame. All the soldiers kneeled in his presence.
"Everyone!" He joyfully roared. "We have achieved a significant victory! Our forces decimated the remnants of the Fomorian General Cichol and struck a decisive blow against their army!"
Remnants is right. Macha thought. They were barely two thousand strong and were only a problem because of Cichol.
"In honor of this great victory, tonight…we celebrate!"
The hall cheered. The soldiers cheered.
Macha could barely smile.
That evening, outside the castle walls, Macha sat on a barrel and leaned against the castle wall. She looked to her left and right, ensuring she was alone. She sighed and let her body go lax.
And cried. It was a whimper at first, but grew. Soon, the tears fell. She wanted to wipe them away, but her broken arms were held in place. Her bandaged eye tinged with pain, and her bandages soaked up her tears.
It ate away at her thoughts. The pain. The horror. What she did, and why.
Then, it happened.
Perhaps it was because she was lost in the moment that she did not notice him. The only one among the court who did not see her cheering amongst the other broken and weary soldiers.
Silently, he walked over to her, then leaned on the wall a few feet from her.
"Hey," He said.
She snapped up and turned to him, still teary-eyed.
He was short, but his presence was large and confident. His brown hair was parted down the middle, framing his face and blue eyes. His ornate armor, one of his few constants, shone in the small dregs of starlight from above.
"Fuck," Macha whispered. "Who are you?"
"Nuada, and you're Macha, the Harbinger and Slayer of Cichol."
She shook her head.
"Stop." He pulled out a handkerchief.
"Don't pity me, pretentious prick."
"Drying your face is a pity? Did not realize common decency was such a luxury."
She sighed.
"I mean, I could let you try, but we both know that's not going to happen."
She leered at him. "Come to take advantage—"
"Oh, I recommend not finishing that thought." His aura slowly flowed out, enveloping the area. The ground beneath them shook as leaves on faraway trees shook from their branches. "We can banter, but I am above slinging or tolerating petty insults or taking advantage of suffering peers."
Her mouth went dry. Shit…he was one of Dagda's retinue. "Then what do you want?"
"To make sure you're not alone. You killed Cichol. That makes you a hero and a target. There are a few here not happy with your success. Some who even think fighting back against the Fomor will make things worse."
Epona's leg muscles tensed. "Are you one of them?"
"Oh, hell no. Cichol deserved what he got. They all do, but I'm not stupid enough to praise you for something you're not proud of."
He walked over to her, handkerchief in hand.
"May I?"
She froze and closed her eyes.
Gently, He wiped her face, avoiding her bandages.
"Does not take a genius to see the pangs of war. It's too much sometimes."
"And how would you know?"
Nuada froze. "My predecessor died protecting me from Cichol's forces a few years back. Lost a few friends some time ago. The arrows that took them pierced my side and shoulder only because one of them pushed me out of the way."
Macha opened her eyes, her red meeting his blue. She saw the quiet sadness resting there. Their gentleness. Their strength.
"I wanted to say thank you for killing that bastard, but I don't think you'd appreciate that." He wiped her face a little more. "I really want to say I'm sorry."
She blinked a few times.
"If I were stronger back then, you'd not have to fight this battle, and my friends would be alive. You wouldn't have to be the 'hero' and bear this."
Macha shot him a small leer. "So you come and check on me, wipe away tears, and say something nice?"
"It's all I can do right now. But I'll do more in the future."
She conceded a hint of a smile. "Do you think you can?"
"I don't know, but that won't stop me."
He pocketed his handkerchief. "I'll be over there, keeping an eye on things. When you're ready, we can head back."
Macha's red eyes locked on his.
"…You…can stay here…if you're not too shy."
He smiled. He walked to her left and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms.
Jörð Arena
Outside the East Gate Entrance Hall
"By all, it was," She said. "I don't regret taking the Office, but everything after was a rough ride."
Nuada nodded.
Macha reached her right hand up over her shoulder. Nuada moved his hand so she could rest hers on top of his. She leaned her head a little, feeling his arm and hand on her face.
"Nu. All these years and nightmares. I could only survive it with you here."
"I know, and you never had to tell me. Not then. Not now."
"But…did we tell Lugh? Does he know? He's not us."
"Not sure. We can only hope."
"Just nice words again?"
"It's all I can do for now." I couldn't do enough back then, either, Macha.
Eire
Tir Na Noog
Years Later
Nuada kneeled in the main hall as the Dagda stood over him, crown in hand. Several Gods and Goddesses from their lands filled the room. Macha stood among them, her heart swollen from pride and fear.
"Nuada of the Tuatha De Dannan, you have been chosen to wear the crown of our people. By the word of Cernunnos, of Sucellus, and mine, you have been deemed worthy to inherit and wear our joint crown. May you lead our peoples, guide them, and protect them." He gently lowered the crown on Nuada's head.
Nuada felt the weight wash over him, but he refused to yield.
"Rise, King Nuada."
He rose, and the hall erupted into cheers. He turned to his people, seeing their joy. He saw Macha smiling, recognizing the worry in her eyes that was always there when she looked at him. He nodded, his gaze and bearing strong, and his determination unmatched.
But it was not enough.
Ireland
Magh Tuireadh
Long into his kingship, Nuada led a force of three hundred ships from Eire to Ireland, one of the regions watched over by his Pantheon. Word reached his court that Balor had begun building his forces there after a series of successive battles pushed the Fomor further and further away from Eire.
Here, Nuada would arrive at his own crossroad, and like Macha, he had to face it alone.
And he faced it there at the Battle of Magh Tuireadh.
Nuada stood at the front of his army, his beloved Fragarach in hand. Across from him, in sleek and green armor with a curved saber in hand, brown eyes blazing behind his visor, was Sreng, the infamous Champion of the Fir Bolg people, with his own force rivaling the Tuatha behind him.
"You invade our home, claim a false alliance with that bastard Balor, and then have the gall to demand a contest of champions?!" Sreng roared. "Have you no shame, mighty king of the Tuatha?!"
Nuada turned back to his forces, eyeing a handsome God with short spiky black hair and green eyes, his gold and red armor dented and cracked from the constant battles. He scowled at him, and the young God flinched.
Bres, you stupid bastard. I shouldn't have listened to your damn advice. Look at where we are! He turned back to Sreng. Now both of our forces stare down ruin! "I demand it to spare our peoples!" He responded. "Too much has been lost, and we were wrong to declare war! But you know what would happen if we concede and leave."
"Shame and retribution?!"
"Do not be obtuse. Both our peoples suffer under Balor's shadow. If we concede, it will breed fear and paranoia. If we settle it like this, then a powerful leader will unite our peoples into a force stronger than alone."
"You think that is you?!"
"Not sure, but I want to try! To prove, even in my error, I can make it up to you. And if I lose, then I know a better champion will protect my people!"
Sreng leaned a little back, taken aback by the words. Is…is he trusting me?! His enemy?! Madman! He breathed deeply. But I know how you feel. These times call for such madness! "Then come and prove it!"
The pair dashed at each other. They reached their perfect range and swung, their swords colliding in mid-air. They twisted and turned around each other, aiming at the other's vitals and openings in their armor. Each attack, they knew, would break a lesser weapon and fell a weaker foe.
In that exchange that barely lasted a few minutes, the fate of their peoples collided, and the end played out.
Nuada swung at Sreng's neck. Sreng ducked as he brought his arm back over his shoulder. As he dropped, he chopped down and cleaved clean through Nuada's armor.
Nuada's left arm dropped to the ground as blood spurted on the grass, and pain dug its claws through Nuada. Sreng smiled as he looked up at Nuada, knowing his blow did what he hoped it would do.
Only for Nuada to swing immediately back…and stop right at Sreng's neck.
Both froze in place.
"Drop it," Nuada snarled.
Sreng dropped his sword immediately.
"Do you…concede…Sreng of the Fir Bolg?!"
What're you doing?! Sreng thought. Kill me! I just crippled you! Take your payment!
"ANSWER ME!" Nuada roared, both in rage at Sreng's uncertainty and in defiance of his own pain.
I…I don't understand! Sreng's breath shuddered. "Why?" He whispered.
"Do you have children?! Family?!"
Sreng nodded.
"I am not taking you from them. You…you can fight for them tomorrow…with me…"
Sreng felt his body relax.
"Fight…with me, Sreng. Let me make it up to you…by defending your people with you…"
Those words echoed in Sreng's ears and soul, stunning him into silence.
Nuada never got his answer.
Before he could hear Sreng admit defeat, Nuada crumbled to the ground, his sword falling next to him.
A Few Days Later
"So what happened after?" Nuada asked his council, Bres, and a bald God in a loincloth tattooed from head to toe in ancient sigils, while resting on a cot in his tent, the stump where his arm was now wrapped in bandages and herbs.
Ogma
God Speech, Eloquence, and Language
Brother of the Dagda
Celtic Pantheon
"Sreng, conceded," Bres answered. "He and his forces returned home, but I doubt this is the last time we will fight them."
"Guess I need to get used to fighting with one arm."
"Are you mad?!" Ogma asked. "Wait, you are—that's besides the point! You're in no shape to continue!"
"Then what should I do? Sit here on my impromptu throne and watch our people fight without a ruler?"
"…What about a temporary ruler?" Bres asked.
The pair eyed him.
"This is old text. In the place of the injured King, a proxy ruler can lead while he recovers. Once you are back in full form, I step down."
"An excellent idea…from someone who didn't help cause this," Ogma said.
"What?"
"This battle wouldn't have happened if you weren't paranoid enough to claim the Fir Bolg had allied with Balor, and we paranoid enough to believe it."
"…Yes, that's my mistake."
Nuada looked down at his injury. He could still feel it there. He tried opening and closing his lost hand. Nothing.
"Ogma, it's a temporary solution. And Bres owes us some effort to fix this, too." Nuada looked up at him. "I'm trusting you."
"What will you do, Your Majesty?" Bres asked.
"I will return to Tir Na Noog. My staying here makes me a target for a response, and I can start my recovery back home."
Bres rose and bowed. "I will not fail you, Your Majesty."
Bres departed the tent. Once outside and with no one in sight, He allowed himself a growing emotion. As it grew, a smile grew across his face. Wicked. Conniving. Venomous.
Starting a war on pretenses, and now both forces are undermined by a self-destructive victory. He thought. There's still much to do, but I will complete my mission, Balor.
Weeks Later
Tir Na Noog
Bres and his forces walked from the ports of Eire, Sreng's forces in tow. They marched up the main road and entered through the same double doors that Macha entered after her victory centuries prior.
Nuada sat on his throne, reading a scroll, when Bres, still adorned in his armor, entered. He raised an eyebrow as Bres walked forward and the king's personal guard slowly flowed out of the shadows.
"Acting presumptuous, aren't you?" Nuada asked.
"Have to do what is necessary, Nuada," Bres answered. "It's the only way."
"'A unified force of the Celtic Pantheon and the Fir Bolg will only occur if the current ruler, Nuada, cedes from the throne and names Bres his successor…" Nuada rolled up the scroll with one hand and placed it on his armrest. "Really?"
"Nuada," Sreng started. "I do not agree with this, but the Chiefs of my people will not tolerate an invader as their protector."
"But they'll accept the one who counseled me to invade?"
Sreng remained silent.
"I don't understand their rationality, Nuada, but for the good of our people and to stop our conflict from escalating, this is the best call," Bres said.
Nuada rested his head on his fist. You…sly fox. Did you plan this? He looked at Sreng. There it is, that look of revulsion from working with despicable people. Are you stuck, too? Is that my fault, too? He closed his eyes. Thank All, Macha isn't here. She'd lose her mind and try to kill—. His eyes snapped open. Well, that answers what my choice is…
Nuada rose off his throne and waved his hand. His guard stood back, shooting confused glances at each other. Nuada reached for his crown resting on his brow. I lost today, but this is NOT the end.
He removed it and placed it on his throne. He descended the steps and walked towards Bres and his forces.
"Do not fail here, too," Nuada said. Bres waved his hand, and his forces separated to create an opening. Nuada walked through the opening and departed the castle.
Jörð Arena
Outside the East Gate Entrance Hall
I never forgave myself for that day. He thought. A failure unrivaled by anything before or since. I tried so hard every day to make amends for that horrid mistake to Sreng and his people for my short-sightedness. My paranoia. What Bres…did to our home. Our family. To Brigid. That failure hurt you, too, Lugh. I don't deny it, and I refuse to allow it to be pushed aside.
It was my greatest failure, and I believed that wholeheartedly until today. Lugh…did I fail you, again? Is that all I can give you?
Jörð Arena
Outer Halls
Far from Nuada and Macha, Lugh made his way down the hall. Assal in one hand and his tablet in the other as he scrolled through his tablet's image library. He smiled a little as his thumb swiped up every few seconds.
Then he stopped dead in his tracks. Without looking up, he darkened the screen and pocketed it. He looked ahead and saw a familiar sight.
"Hey, Lu-Lu!" Buddha said, smiling and waving. "What's going on?"
"…Hey, Buddha. Now's not a good time."
"Oh, I disagree."
Of course, you do…
"I just wanted to see if you talked to Deichtine." Buddha smiled confidently.
"I did. I called her and Sualtam, and we talked earlier. It was good catching up with them! So thank you for sparking that idea!" Lugh smiled back.
"…Sualtam?"
"Her husband." Lugh's brow rose. "Wait. Hold on—oh! You thought…" His face went beet red. "I mean, she's pretty, but I am not ready for anything like that! Plus, I'm not into messing with marriages."
Buddha cleared his throat. Boy, Rommie misread that situation entirely. I should have checked on that.
"I'm guessing Rommie told you about her?"
"Maaaaaybe…"
"Did he also ask you to come here?"
"Nah, He's determined to fight you. Almost obsessively. Kind of odd to me, but hey, it's him."
"It is. So why are you here?"
"I heard through the grapevine you voted for Humanity's survival at the council. And now you're fighting against them. Seems kind of…"
Lugh shot him a listless leer. "Two-faced? Cowardly? Not really a nice way to spin that."
"I might not be able to, but at least you're aware of it. You don't hate Humanity, and the spot you're in is prime to put an end to this."
"Am I?"
Buddha's smile vanished. "You forfeit, and Humanity wins 7-5. Ragnarök ends. Rommie lives. Skalmöld lives. Their kid lives. You live, and you can go home."
Lugh could feel his heart beating faster. "That's a great way to oversimplify the situation."
"I'm more of the idea that you two are making this complicated."
"Buddha…" Lugh sighed, feeling his temper grow. He wanted something sharp and pointed to say. A part of him wanted to yell and scream at what was implied. However, something came to him, and he realized why. "Thank you."
Buddha blinked a few times.
"I get what you're doing. You're trying to help Humanity. Moreso, you're kind enough to try and help me. Most Gods wouldn't understand what you're doing, but I do. You can tell I don't want this."
"…" Buddha scratched his cheek. "Is that what you think?"
"If you really wanted to just help Humanity, nothing is stopping you from trying to stop me."
Buddha's smile returned. "Trying?" His aura erupted into the hall.
Lugh nodded as his aura exploded out and smashed into Buddha's. The hall shook under their power. "Trying."
Their auras dissipated instantly, and Buddha shrugged. "I'm used to being put in situations where I never had a choice. It's how my life was for a long time, and there was an inkling that you were stuck in the same spot."
Lugh smiled back. "I understand, but I'm afraid you're mistaken. This life wasn't forced on me. I was given a life so precious I couldn't turn away from it. No matter what."
"Given it?"
He nodded. "Rommie told me about your past. I would never wish that on anyone. A gilded cage. But my life isn't a cage. It's a gift offered to me after I lost everything, and I…" Lugh could feel joy flow through him. "I just want to thank them. To give back to them the love they gave me. They had no obligation to do it, but here we are."
Ah…darn. Buddha thought. He grew out of puberty.
"Buddha, you learned about parts of my life before coming here. Do you know anything about my people? My parents?"
"Seems not as much as I thought. Enlighten me."
"Ha! Good one! My people, Buddha, are a people of desperate, constant struggle and growth. The Celtic Pantheon is a misnomer; we're really a people of refugees and survivors. So many of them are from Pantheons that no one outside Eire even knew existed. Histories, cultures, peoples. Gone to the whims of one nightmare."
"Balor."
Lugh nodded.
"There isn't a word to describe what he is other than what he makes my people feel: Fear. Doesn't help that he's my grandfather, too."
"You don't owe a debt to right his wrongs," Buddha said. "And I know that relationship made your home a bit hostile for you."
"That thought never crossed my mind, and that was our hurdle to overcome together. He still hurts people I love, and my people are terrified of his whims. Everything we've done is to one day stop him for good, but nothing's certain. No one's ever truly stopped him."
"If you feel what's going on in Eire isn't enough, why not reach out? I'd be willing to help. Rommie, too."
"Here's my counter to that: why offer now?"
Buddha paused.
"Balor has been around since Aunt Macha and Uncle Nuada were kids. He's old. Maybe even older. No one knows where he came from. Even Fomorians who fled his tyranny and joined us are uncertain. He's been around long enough that other Pantheons can't be ignorant of his threat. But they don't care. He's just so damn strong, he doesn't bother invading when he knows victory is a certainty. Eire is just the closest target to ease his boredom."
"So that's why…"
"Even with the truth hanging over everyone, no one stepped up. And it shouldn't take Ragnarök's final score on the line to compel people to offer their aid."
I'm not trying to manipulate you, Lu-Lu! You and Rommie shouldn't be fighting! Buddha thought. Friends shouldn't fight like this! "A counter to your counter: What do you gain from winning? Other than a dead friend and his family?"
"The one thing my people need: Hope. My Uncle knows Humanity's strength. He knows its potential, because they're in the same situation right now. I have to fight because I have to show my people, against the greatest foe the Gods have faced in recent times, that their next king will rise to the occasion and always place them first. Even against people he may care for."
Buddha clicked his tongue. "Making hard choices is natural for leaders. I only hope you stay the same while doing it." Buddha nodded. "There's nothing I can say to change your mind, is there?"
"My parents…" Lugh caught himself, then smiled. "My parents raised me to be the kind of King who won't lose himself to the title. It will always be there, but how I wear it is me and me alone! And no, but you're a great friend for trying. I know there's a part of this I am wrong for doing, but I'm wrong regardless. I have to make the choice I can live with."
Lugh walked forward, passed Assal to his other hand, and extended his right.
Buddha reached out and grabbed and shook.
Lugh walked past him and down the hall.
Good luck, Rommie. He thought. I tried stopping him, but I knew I'd fall short. I hope you're ready, because he's grown up.