Fifty years on horseback, fifty years of living in urts, fifty years of eating what runs in front of my bow, fifty years of expanding my lands and legacy. Fifty years of watching villages burn, people dying, children being born, women being taken, men being cut down—there has got to be more than this; there has to be something that resembles peace. The peace of the night sky, the peace of the steppe after a windstorm, the peace of mind after taking a woman to my bed. My life has been full and fruitful; my life has been one conquest after another, one battle after another. Just as my horse over the seasons has grown tired and weary, so have I. 

My wives have given me many sons and daughters; my eldest has proven himself time over time and has even challenged me, but smartly not in front of my Tumen leaders. He has earned the right to lead his own Mingghan and has been taught by the best falcon trainers on how to use them for hunting. I hope that as my time passes, he also learns to listen to his younger siblings, as they may see things that his eyes miss, just as he shows me things that my old eyes miss from time to time. He has even proven himself better at riding and arrow than me, but I may have taught him everything he knows, but I have not taught him everything I know. My son, in his own right and ability in battle, I'm sure has given the Hollow God a reason to pay attention to him. He leads like I do; in the front, he fights like I do, as if it will be my last battle, and he seems to have taken up the same mantle as me in his search for a woman worthy of his urt.

My eldest daughter may not have been blessed with strength or her mother's looks, but the Hollow God has bestowed on her the ability of her mother's fire sight. She may be feeble, but her mind is as strong as the horses of any of my Tumen. Her ability to see what is ahead has been a great blessing and has even predicted the seasonal rains to the day—eight seasons in a row. When she sat flame with her mother, they were able to see where not only the best hunting is but what I would catch. There have been times when they have sat flame and seen the death of a child, a specific soldier, or a horse giving birth to a stillborn foal. Since she has grown, all of these types of things have been on her own. In her 12th season, she picked a specific horse and said that she wanted the foal. No one could even get close to the foal when it was born except for her. When it was time to brand the horse and braid the mane again, it would only let her near it. My daughter is now beginning her 25th season, and they are inseparable. When its mother was laid to rest with the others of her herd, she cut off all of her hair and the mane of her horse, and they lay next to her mound and prayed for five days and nights to ensure that the Hollow God heard their pleas to give the mother another life. 

Eventually, just as my father, his father, and their fathers, to the dawn of all fathers have done and take their last ride out into the steppe and meet the Hollow God. Where he will judge me to either be born as a falcon and soar on the winds, to be born as a horse to run wild over the steppe, or as a sheep that is to be hunted and consumed, and if I have pleased him, I might have the opportunity to return in a new body to live another life. I have sent him many souls to satisfy his hunger and to please him to where I can come back and live another life. 

The last several nights have been fitful and unsettling. Both my daughter and first wife have been repeatedly telling me that there is some kind of calamity coming—something not dark but so bright that it outshines the sun above our heads. Their vision seems to end the same way every time I am no longer with them. To me, it would seem that my calling to the steppe and to the Hollow God has begun. Maybe the light is the way to my next life. We do not fear death here; it is the end and the beginning of all things, so why do they fear mine? Perhaps it is time for me to call everyone to me and prepare to meet the Hollow God. 

Five sunrises have come and gone, and the only thing that has changed is that the air is heavy about the tribe, everyone seems on edge, and everyone looks at me with heavy eyes and heavy faces. Even the horses seem to be quieter; it would seem that the tribe knows that my time with them grows to an end. I call the tribe to the bonfire that I had made. the finest saddle I have for my horse. Her mane and tail have been braided for battle with the finest silks and leather.  I find my finest war robe, my wives polishes and shines every bit of leather, and my bow and even the arrows are polished to a high shine. The fletchings have been replaced with new ones, and the tips have been sharpened. All is how it should be now. When I exit my urt I see the entire tribe lined up on two sides, spiraling around the bonfire, with a pathway that is laid out with robes, cloaks, saddle blankets, a single item from every member of the tribe, so that it guarantees that I have touched something from every member. My Tumen snap erect and as I pass they drop to one knee and their horses are pulled down as well and as soon as they kneel the entire tribe drops to their knees, pulling their horses down with them. I can hear the stifled crying from my wives and younger children, one of my children breaks free of his mother, running full force in to me with tears streaming down his face. He knows that this is not a preparation for battle but something more, something deeper, he knows I'm leaving but I'm sure he doesn't know why, yet. His mother quickly goes to grab him, I look at her, she stops cold. I stop walking and kneel down and look at him face to face, the hug he gives almost takes my breath away, I whisper softly, "Remember not how I left but how I returned." I gently move him towards his mother and she scoops him up in her arms and goes back to her place. When I reach the end of the lined path, I meet my oldest son holding my horse, my wife holding my bow and a full quiver and my oldest daughter holding my helmet with the white feather that had a hole in it, representing the Hollow God and the white representing my position in the tribe as Khan. I took the helmet from her, placed it upon my head, I kneel in front of him, and I uttered, "To the Hollow God I give my bones and ash, to my son I give the power I was given." I remove the helmet and hand it to him, at which time he places it upon his head.

"Listen to all of the voices of the tribe, do not become so deaf that you only hear yourself, the moment you do, you will be defeated, forgotten and left as a sheep to slaughter by the Hollow God. Do not follow them blindly but weigh all they have to say, learn from the defeated, learn from your victories, learn from the land, and you will be remembered and revered, just like your father's father, and the fathers before him."  As I said this I could see his eyes cloud over with tears but the strength and weight of his position now held him tight. My daughter grabbed her mother and they both began to sob heavily. 

I pulled them close and I said, "Don't fear for me, beseech the Hollow God that he gives me a reward worthy of this life and all the strength and prowess I need to fight and win that reward, you have given me all ever need," as I grasp my bow and pat the horse.  "For the next three sunrises, celebrate my life, prepare our son for his new life and make sure he finds good wives worthy of him."

I got up on my horse, strapped the bow and quiver to my back, looked up at the night sky found light that does not move in the sky and started to follow it.