The Calculus of Chaos

The war room of the Timeless Kingdom was not designed for war. It was a relic of an older age, filled with moth-eaten tapestries of forgotten battles and a map table so dusty it looked like a snowfield. Hafa blew on it, sending a cloud into the air.

"Charming," she coughed. "Do you strategize here or haunt it?"

Tucan flicked a hand, and the dust reassembled into a perfect replica of the continent—forests, rivers, and the four elemental kingdoms glowing in elemental hues. The Fire Kingdom pulsed angrily, its borders bristling with tiny flame-shaped markers.

"Show-off," Hafa muttered.

"Efficiency," Tucan corrected. He pointed to the Fire Kingdom's capital. "Your father's army will march here, through the Ashen Pass. They'll expect us to meet them head-on."

"So we don't." Hafa leaned over the map, her shadow swallowing the Fire Kingdom. "We hit their supply lines. Burn their granaries. Freeze their rivers. Make them starve before they reach us."

Tucan raised a brow. "Ruthless. I approve."

"I didn't learn it from you."

He smirked. "No. You learned it from them." A wave of his hand, and the map shifted—a thousand tiny scenes flickered above it: Fire Kingdom generals plotting, Earth Kingdom envoys bribing, Air Kingdom spies weaving storms.

Hafa frowned. "You've been watching them. All of them."

"Time has its perks."

"Creepy ones." She squinted at a scene of her father, the Fire King, roaring orders. "Can you… hear them?"

"If I focus." Tucan's jaw tightened. "Your father's voice is… memorable."

Hafa hesitated. "What's he saying now?"

Tucan closed his eyes. "'Hafa is dead to us. Crush her with the rest.'"

The words hung in the air, sharp as knives. Hafa forced a laugh. "Always the charmer."

Tucan studied her. "Does it hurt?"

"What? That my family wants me dead? I'd be offended if they didn't." She poked the map, scattering an Air Kingdom storm. "So. Do we starve them, or drown them?"

"Neither." Tucan swept his hand, and the map zoomed to the Ashen Pass. "We redirect their army into the Earth Kingdom. Let them fight each other."

Hafa blinked. "How?"

"A… temporal illusion. Make the Earth Kingdom's forces appear to ambush them."

"And when they realize it's fake?"

"They'll already be at each other's throats."

Hafa crossed her arms. "So your grand plan is to trick them into killing each other? That's your idea of strategy?"

"It's clean."

"It's cowardly."

Tucan's eyes flashed. "I've fought enough wars to know that clean is better than kind."

"And I've lived enough to know that clean leaves scars!" She gestured to the map. "You're talking about manipulating thousands of lives like pawns. What if the Earth Kingdom's civilians get caught in the crossfire?"

"What if they do?" His voice iced over. "Should I weep for them? Write a poem?"

"Should you care?"

"Caring is a luxury, Hafa. One I can't afford."

She stepped closer. "Liar. You cared enough to save the mixed-born. To build this kingdom. What changed?"

The map flickered. For a heartbeat, Tucan's mask slipped—exhaustion, grief, rage. "I learned that mercy is a weakness. That every life saved today becomes a blade in your back tomorrow."

Hafa didn't flinch. "Then why keep me alive?"

Silence.

Tucan turned away. "You're… useful."

"Liar," she said again, softer.

He vanished, reappearing at the room's edge. "We proceed with the illusion. The clans will prepare."

"And if I refuse to help?"

"Then you'll watch from the tower as I do it alone."

Hafa glared at him, then kicked the map table. The Earth Kingdom's mountains collapsed into dust. "Fine. But when this backfires, don't come crying to me."

"I don't cry."

"Could've fooled me."

As she stormed out, Tucan whispered to the empty room, "You already do."