“The wolf begins to circle the boy. Claws of black steel, fur as the...”

The wolf begins to circle the boy. Claws of black steel, fur as the dark night ... eyes glowing red, jewels from the pit of hell itself. The giant wolf sniffing ... savouring the scent of the meal to come. It is not fear that grips him ... only a heightened sense of things. Cold air in his lungs ... wind-swept pines moving against the coming night. His hands are steady – his form perfect.

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Dilios "Goodbye, my love". He doesn't say it. There's no room for softness, not in Sparta. No place for weakness. Only the hard and strong may call themselves Spartans. Only the hard. Only the strong. Dilios We march. For our lands, for our families, for our freedoms, we march. Dilios Zeus stabs the sky with thunderbolts and batters the Persian ships with hurricane wind! Glorious. Only one among us keeps his Spartan reserve. Only he ... only our King.