Demeter had an unusually large number of nameless temples. The cause was Gaia, who had descended to the earth countless times in human form.
Gaia was curious. Her interest always turned toward lands touched by the sun, and like a tree that had taken root in that soil, she was restless, unable to plant her two feet there.
When mingling with humans, she used several names in rotation. The ones she mainly used were Pandora1), Pyra2), and Rhea3).
According to her, none of those names were ones she had chosen herself. She said they were either given by someone or naturally came to be called that way.
The miracles she occasionally showed before humans were enough to make them believe she was a divine incarnation. Thus, mortals regarded her as the descent of a virgin goddess and even erected statues and temples in her honor.
With hair red like a blazing sunset, people first called her Pyra. Perhaps because she had beautiful eyes that seemed to draw one in when gazing at them, even when she simply sat by a spring to rest, passersby would stop in their tracks and stare at her as if entranced.
Pyra.
The name meaning "red woman" also carried the meaning of a beautiful maiden. Though it would later become distorted to bear the ominous meaning of a seductive woman who steals souls, that was a story for later.
Whenever Gaia visited any village to play, she brought a clay jar she had crafted herself as a gift.
The red jar was truly a product of blessing. Inside the jar was filled with medicinal herbs for the sick and elderly, seeds of grain that grew without fertilizer, delicate fabrics she had woven herself, and fresh milk drawn from goats near Oceanus.
From this time, people began calling her Pandora, meaning "gift of abundance."4)
The wise elders leading the village believed she was a Kore sent by the earth goddess and erected a statue by the village spring. Beside it, they built an incense altar, placing wildflowers daily and offering wild beasts as sacrifices every month.
This became the origin of Pandora's altar.
The custom of following Pandora quickly spread to neighboring villages as well. The statue of the maiden with long curly hair and amethyst-colored eyes always wore a flower crown on her head and carried a round jar tucked at her side.
Pandora's clay jar was both a blessing and a gift from the earth goddess. Every village hoped the red-haired Kore would visit them.
The maiden's jar, bearing the goddess's fragrance and said to smell sweet as honey. Rumors spread that an olive leaf was tied to the handle of the jar she left behind.
People one after another planted olive trees at the village entrance and buried large jars beneath them. This was because of the expectation that one day Pandora would visit and leave gifts inside the jar.
The maiden of blessing, the gift of abundance, the earth's mercy, the goddess's guide....
There were countless modifiers placed before Pandora's name. Who could have imagined the day someone would dare curse and cry out calling her Pandora of disaster?
It was the day a gaunt ox licked the dry earth with its tongue and collapsed. A sandstorm began to visit, caressing the parched meadow where the ground had cracked open.
Reeds lay on the ground unable to support themselves, and the sky was filled with dense dust from the wind blowing from the western hills.
It was the season of fire.
- Pyra.
At some point, he had come to enjoy calling her Pyra. It was a pet name that suited her beautiful hair, red like soil soaked in the sunset. Also, that sweet name was pleasant to hear, like a song whenever pronounced.
- My Pyra....
The quiet and eerie whispers began around twilight.
The god who had come treading on darkness stood at the village entrance and caught his breath for a moment. Though he had called her name countless times, seeing the reeds bowing their heads pretending not to know, she showed no sign of appearing this time either. She seemed thoroughly upset. The ruler of night exhaled a cold breath and sighed.
- Why do you keep hiding from me? Darkness is no different from my breath.
The torches lighting the night road all went out at once. It was because the wind spirit had rounded its lips and blown a breath. Now there was only pitch darkness like the back of the moon.
Frightened people quickly locked their gates. Terrified children began wailing. Mothers holding them placed their index fingers to their lips with a hush.
"Hush, the god of night and death has come. Whether young or old, if you burst into tears, he will drag you to Tartarus immediately. Will you continue fussing like this? You must not confuse the god. If you do, something truly terrible will happen...."
Why was the guide of night and death so angry?
This is land under the protection of the earth. It was only five days ago that the harvest festival was held.... Lady Gaia, please protect your weak children.
Despite their earnest wishes, the timing was not good. Or perhaps the wind pretended not to know and deliberately ignored their cries.
The ruler of night, appearing after dipping himself in the River Styx and wreathed in damp fragrance, showed increasingly dissatisfied expressions.
- Pyraaa! Where are you!
It was hard to find any sweetness left in his voice calling for her. The anger etched in his furrowed brow deepened further. The indignation sealed on his tightly closed lips had already passed its limit.
Afterward, darkness visited each village in turn over the ridges. Nyx's cries searching for Pyra now approached madness. Whenever the angry great god's voice rang out, villagers trembled in fear.
The god of harmony had come in great wrath leading darkness. Now the village would overflow with the scent of death. What should be done?
First were the livestock. Goats and chickens were torn to death with their innards exposed, and blood pooled along the dirt road stretching all the way to the village entrance.
Next, people died. Young children. Children who vomited in their sleep coughed up blood and fainted. Mothers ran to Pandora's statue at dawn, joining their hands in desperate prayer.
"Please save us, please bring our children back."
Even so, the virgin goddess's statue made no response. Women in despair collapsed on the ground and began wailing. Then with exhausted, swollen eyes, they blankly stared at the sunset. The bodies of the children in their arms had already grown cold.
The next village was even more devastated. The entire village turned to black ash in an instant. There was not a single survivor.
The god of darkness and death is searching for the virgin goddess. If the red-haired Kore is not produced, that village will be annihilated. Any village Pandora has visited even once, be careful. At the darkest hour of night, Lord Nyx will come. And there will surely be blood.
Pandora became an ominous name. Some came to believe she was a disaster. People steeped in sorrow and despair began smashing the jars she had left behind. Statues honoring her collapsed, and small temples became ruins.
Pandora became the maiden of disaster.
"Then...."
Cyane had an expression of disbelief.
"The plague that spread through Cocytus was also perhaps...."
"Probably not. The disaster sent by the god of darkness disappeared forty years ago, after the war with Hades ended. The nation of Hades itself seemed to have been established solely to punish us. Actually, many believe that. Their army being called Thanatos is probably because they are believed to be soldiers sent by the god of darkness."
"If Lady Pandora was a Hadean, perhaps? Assuming all Hadeans have eyes like that man."
"I wonder."
Vague uncertainty dwelled in the Demon King's eyes.
"Did the king of Hades look human to you? I truly don't know...."
Ψ
The sunset light stretching from outside the window shone on the shadow's feet, then gradually faded away.
The sunset embraced by the western mountain was tilting along the ridge. Soon it would hide itself like a fireball sinking into a lake, and darkness would blanket the sky as if painting it.
The wind was brief.
On days like this, birds fly high. Fortune tellers would try to read fortunes by looking at the early evening sky. But priests who knew the nature of Ananke, the god of fate, would examine fireflies, not birds.
It was said that the god of fate ties invisible threads of fate to butterfly wings. Or there were stories that he hid them inside the glowing part when a firefly's rear lit up.
Looking at the world through birds' eyes was Nyx's taste, who liked to hide in the crevices of Erebus. It did not harmonize with Ananke's aesthetic, who pursued romance.
The sunset faded and complete darkness fell. Kalian sat deep in thought with his rolled hand against his lips. With hollow eyes, he unfolded his fingers one by one.
A single petal of Himeros was stuck to his revealed palm. Red blood drops had stained it, solidified into a reddish state.
"Mmm...."
When Asteril groaned in pain, he bent down to take her hand. Her sweat-soaked skin was hot like a fireball. The wounded area was peeling like snake scales. Her ragged breathing mixed with a cracked voice. It was hoarse enough to be pitiful. Her bluish lips trembled as if cold.
"No, no! No...."
Asteril wept and reached out her hand. What kept being not allowed was unclear. The hand trying to grasp the empty air was desperate. Slender fingers bent at each joint to make a fist. Her frightened voice burst into tears and screamed.
"No! Nyx...."
Kalian's expression hardened. It felt as if his blood was growing cold.
Nyx. She had definitely cried that out. Breathing heavily like a young beast on the verge of death.
Among the clan, no one could match Nyx in the ability to cast barriers. Like a Ceton who had stayed in the deepest part of Erebus, the primordial darkness, he used darkness like his own body more than anyone. Even for him, noticing Nyx's presence was difficult.
Then what should be done?
The clan is immortal. Among them, Nyx was one of the Five Seats called elders. One who had lived many times longer than himself. He was not only particular but also a threatening opponent.
According to the Himeros, he had only lost interest and left after confirming once more that Asteril was not Gaia.
But he was a capricious one. Even the moon that constantly changed its form could hardly defeat his madness. If he learned that Asteril had survived, he might take interest in her again.
Above all, if he continued to stay by her side, that suspicious Nyx would surely have questions.
Kalian touched Asteril's forehead. It was hot. Like his own heart tightening as if burning through his veins.
"Lian, do you know what fear is?"
Aris's interrogation crossed his mind. It was a question he had thought about all night. His bloodshot eyes stared sharply out the window.
Pitch-black darkness was crawling up over the ridge.
Ψ
Near the south gate of the royal palace in Side, the capital of Demeter.
A guard carrying a torch ran toward the brazier installed on the castle wall. With urgent movements, he transferred fire to the brazier. The brazier the guard lit was used only to summon priests to the palace in emergencies.
There were three sacred braziers in total, and their meanings differed according to the number of times they were lit.
1 torch was used to summon general priests.
2 torches were used to summon high priests to discuss preparing ceremonies or festivals, or when the king needed to cast divination.
3 torches was an emergency summons order for major high priests including the supreme priest due to a critical national situation. This had never been lit except for 40 years ago when Hades invaded Demeter.
But today, smoke rose from all three braziers. The great temple became busy. The supreme priest who received the report immediately gathered the high priests.
The great temple in Side had more high priests including the supreme priest than anywhere else. Counting only the priests of the healing lineage, there were more than five.
This was also the place where Asteril had trained before leaving Cocytus to pass the high priest examination.
It was when the supreme priest, having finished preparations to head to the palace, was leading the high priests out of the temple.
"W-wait a moment!"
Someone hurriedly shouted from the olive garden of the main temple. The supreme priest stopped and glanced sideways.
"Please wait a moment!"
Psyche came rushing out, frantically wiping her olive oil-stained hands on the hem of her clothes. She blocked the procession and fell to her knees as if throwing herself upon the ground.
"Please, I beg you, take me to the royal palace as well."
"Who is that child, acting so rashly?"
The Secretary Vice Priest who attended the High Priest asked with furrowed brows.
Among the group of priests who had come to see them off, the Education Priest recognized Psyche's face and was surprised. She pushed through the disapproving priests and bowed forward.
"She is one of this year's trainees, named Semele. She is the child managing the olive trees sent from the royal palace."
The Vice Priest's expression softened upon seeing the Education Priest. Was this not Priest Clytie, renowned for her upright character?
"All the olive oil produced recently was pressed by Semele herself. Vice Priest Mye also praised her for making it so meticulously. Do you perhaps recall?"
Olives pressed in mortars with drainage holes had their residue strained and used as fertilizer or for drying leather.
Usually this was menial work done by hired laborers, but trainees who had entrusted themselves to the temple often lent a hand as a way to earn their keep.
However, because the work was grueling, there was no leisure to pursue formal studies, so taking the priest examination had to be abandoned.
Vice Priest Mye nodded and answered.
"Yes, I remember. The quality was quite good, so we sent some to Princess Cyane as well."
"She may not yet be a priest, but her faith is deep and she is sincere."
"Semele... isn't she that deaf child?"
Someone recalled and asked. Then the other priests, who had shown little interest, turned their gazes toward Psyche.
But despite the positive attitudes of Education Priest Clytie and Vice Priest Mye, most of the priests wore disapproving expressions.
Undaunted by their harsh scrutiny, Psyche spoke.
"It is shameful, but I overheard your conversation. I heard that Princess Asteril, who had gone to Hades, has returned gravely wounded."
They said Princess Asteril, second to none in natural power, was wandering at death's door. This might be her first and last chance.
"Please, take me with you. You may order me to do anything. I will help without complaint. I beg you..."
At her persistent attitude, the Secretary Vice Priest finally issued a rebuke.
"How impudent! Not even a priest, without a speck of divine power to speak of—what could you possibly do there?"
"Vice Priest, please..."
"Get out of here at once!"
It seemed she might be punished at this rate. Clytie bowed her head once more for Psyche's sake.
"High Priest, and Vice Priests! This child has always admired Princess Asteril so deeply... Even I, who am from the west, was surprised. She says the reason she wants to become a priest, and the reason she came all the way to Side, is all because of Princess Asteril."
At those words, the High Priest glanced askance at Psyche. His weathered eyes held the sharp wisdom of age.
"She admires Lady Asteril?"
"H-how could that not be true? It is beyond what the word 'admiration' can express."
Psyche, still prostrate on the ground, let her words trail off. The High Priest glanced at the guards waiting outside, then frowned.
There was no time to delay further. She narrowed her eyes and spoke.
"Follow along."
It was a child who had lost her status and position, her parents and home. She had debts to the Head of the Senate, so she had taken her in despite the risks, but honestly speaking, she wondered how long a noble family's daughter would last.
She thought the girl would either run away on her own, or hang herself—one of the two...
But to think she had been doing all the hard labor in the temple. Did she perhaps wish to apologize to Lady Asteril, who had become a princess in her stead?
Well... she would find out once she took her along.
Vice Priest Mye patted the shoulder of the Head Priest who had come to see them off, and gave an order.
"You must gather the priests' belongings with selected clerics and follow after us. Make haste."
"Yes, Lord Mye."
Below the slope that served as the temple entrance, the horses and carriages bearing the priests disappeared in clouds of dust. Psyche watched the scene with brimming eyes.
It took about half a shichen to walk from the South Gate, called Gaia's Gate, to the royal palace entrance. On horseback, half that time would suffice.
However, the road to the royal palace was unpaved, and its condition was always poor. The road, covered in animal waste and mud, often caused even sturdy two-wheeled carriages to lose their wheels.
Moreover, since it had rained yesterday, the sodden ground was in such a state that one could hardly traverse it on foot.
"Each of you, pack clothes and shoes. We must hurry."
The Head Priest thrust a pair of leather sandals into the arms of Psyche, who stood barefoot. Beside her, two female clerics now stood with flushed expressions.
Psyche looked down at the sandals, which seemed to have been discarded by someone, with a dark expression.
In all her life, she had never once stepped outside a mansion on her own two feet. In the past, she would have thought it better to walk barefoot than to wear such filthy shoes. Without a carriage, she had been of such noble standing that she would never have crossed the threshold of her mansion.
Psyche looked down at her white, blistered hands and bit her lip.
She had let go of the past entirely. She was ready to roll in a dung heap if need be. She watched the clerics beside her busily adjusting their sandals.
She had not come here to live in worship of the gods. All the flowers upon the altar were to be hers. To solemnly look down upon the backs of the heads of those prostrate on the ground. That was the life she desired.
"Semele, what are you doing?"
"I apologize."
She could do anything. She would not refuse to apologize to lowly ones and bow her head.
The food of the gods—if only she could obtain that...
Upon arriving at the royal palace, a guard with a solemn expression led them to a secluded place.
"Clerics, please wait here until further instructions are given."
"The priests... where are they...?"
Someone's timid question was buried under the heavy footsteps of the departing guard.
The place where the four people including the Head Priest arrived was a small temple with only a modest statue of the Mother Goddess and altar. Medium-sized temples built for rituals were usually constructed separately and kept closed in ordinary times.
Psyche took a corner spot and lay on her side. With a blanket spread beneath her and her bundle as a pillow, the gentle breeze blowing through the open doorway made her eyes close of their own accord.
The Head Priest and clerics sat on the floor with sheepish expressions, removing their muddy sandals and arranging them.
Unlike the Great Temple on the hill, it was very quiet and still here. The clerics unconsciously spoke in hushed tones as they conversed.
Now it was a time of waiting.
Three days passed in an instant.
There was no word from the priests. Unlike the anxious clerics, Psyche was calm.
The fact that the High Priest's party had not returned meant they were still devoted to treatment. In other words, there was a high possibility that Princess Asteril was showing progress in treatment and recovering.
"Clerics, would you like some tea?"
This small temple where they stayed had effectively lost its function as a temple, so apprentice physicians in the royal palace used it as a storage for medicinal herbs.
What the young apprentice physician brought out was pomegranate tea. Now, in the height of the Season of Water, all trees on earth were in their time to bloom based on their ripened life force.
"I heard the Head Priest has been suffering from abdominal pain, so I brought this. It is tea made by drying flower petals in the shade, grinding them to powder, and mixing with honey. It will be of help."
The Head Priest, who had crawled over clutching his stomach, took the clay cup and sighed as if he had been given a new lease on life.
Side, the capital of Demeter, was a name meaning pomegranate. Most of the populace thought it was called the City of Pomegranates because pomegranate trees were abundant everywhere, but there existed several different theories about its origin.
"Since this is land where the Mother Goddess descended, wouldn't the pomegranate, symbolizing fertility, have become its name?"
"Perhaps they planted pomegranate trees as an act of worship."
The female clerics wearing peploi chatted while fiddling with the brooches on their shoulders. The Head Priest had fallen asleep after drinking the tea. Having suffered diarrhea all night and unable to sleep, it was understandable.
The innkeeper who had been organizing medicinal herbs in a basket near the entrance stole glances at their attire.
Unlike her, wearing a rectangular sackos hastily cinched with a belt, the clerics in tunics of linen and peploi of wool looked noble as the goddesses carved in the temple.
But the blonde cleric sitting alone in the corner was dressed differently from the others in rough attire. With both legs drawn up and her cheek resting on her knee, she stared blankly toward the entrance.
Her face, shadowed in shade, held indescribable beauty even in the faint light.
"Side is..."
The innkeeper, gazing at her in a trance, opened her mouth unbidden.
"It was the name of a certain Kore."
The eyes of the whispering clerics turned to the innkeeper. She continued somewhat awkwardly.
"Long ago, in a village near a spring, there lived a woman named Side. Her beauty was so great that even the gods were said to be jealous."
Psyche, whose eyelids had been growing heavy with drowsiness, grasped her fading consciousness at the old story seeping into her ears.
"When Side came of age, suitors flocked before her house every day, clamoring. They threw flowers and jewels, crying out for her to show her face, and Side, burdened by their attention, did not stir from inside the house. Then the angry suitors gradually began to grow enraged."
Who is she to ignore us like this? We called her beautiful and noble, and now she thinks she's really become a goddess? How much wealth have we brought her all this time?
"One morning, a neighbor passing by Side's house screamed in shock. Beneath the rock in front of the house, Side lay with her head bashed in."
Whether robbers had broken in during the night, or one of the resentful suitors had attacked the mansion, her parents and servants had also fallen, slashed by blades.
"Side died?"
The suitors who had gathered that morning as well frowned after confirming her lifeless body.
"I heard she was so beautiful, but what is that ghastly sight?"
"I'm seeing her in person for the first time too, but it's utterly disappointing."
"Her skull is caved in, isn't it? Ugh, how ugly. I'll need to wash my eyes in the river."
They threw down the flowers they had brought, as if discarding them on the dirt. Some even spat on the ground. None of them gave proper burial to the corpse of the woman they had so desired.
A few years passed, and a tree grew from beneath the rock where Side had died. Those who saw the red fruit hanging from its branches recalled the life of Side, who had died in vain.
"From then on, that fruit was called Side."
The atmosphere grew solemn. The innkeeper smoothed the stray hairs on her cheek. She had brought up this story wanting to associate with the clerics, but it ended up pouring cold water on the mood.
"Now that I think of it, I think I heard a similar story when I was young too. Though the ending was a bit different..."
"Is that so? What ending did you hear, Cleric?"
"Side, who received more veneration than the gods because of her exceeding beauty, eventually incurred the wrath of Ananke, the God of Fate. What god would not be angry when the flowers and offerings meant for the temple went to a mere human? Ananke is said to have placed a terrible curse upon her as punishment..."
"What kind of curse?"
"I don't remember well. It was a very dreadful curse."
"If it's a curse from the God of Fate, it's obvious. Losing everything one possesses and falling into the abyss... Perhaps Side lost her beauty and became hideous?"
"Or she fell in love with the ugliest man in the world."
The clerics burst into laughter. If Education Priest Clytie had been present, she would have scolded them severely for being so frivolous.
"What exactly did Side do wrong?"
Psyche muttered with a frown.
"It was the suitors who did wrong. It wasn't that she ignored them, but those men who confined Side inside her home."
The clerics looked at her. They clearly hadn't expected that she, who had been dozing in the corner, had been listening to the story.
"With hairy, smelly men encamped outside the house, who would go out knowing what kind of disgrace awaits them? And for her name to be attached to the city where those bastards' descendants live—how pitiful is that? Side must have wanted to be liberated from this filthy land. Men are inherently closer to beasts—violent, selfish, smelly, and filthy creatures. The tragedy is that they are the only ones who don't know it. Women are merely existences forced to accept all that filth!"
"Lady Semele, please calm down..."
The priests stopped her in bewilderment. They had never seen the deaf priestess speak with such passionate eloquence.
But Psyche did not stop her fury.
"While Side's followers courted her so passionately, they must have been harboring all sorts of vile imaginations, thinking, 'If only she becomes mine!' Do they think women wouldn't know? What a bunch, only thinking of embracing them according to their own desires!"
"That's right... The men were at fault. Yes, so please calm your anger, Lady Semele."
An uncomfortable silence fell. Psyche frowned as she stared into empty space. The High Priest was still fast asleep, snoring away, and the female priest fiddled with an empty basket, observing the mood.
"Anyway..."
One of the priests brought up a new topic with a smile, trying to change the subject.
"When will you bring the priests their clothes? It's already been three days since they've been like that."
"You're right..."
"I will bring them."
Psyche sprang up and snatched the bundle of clothes from the priest's arms. Before the others could even try to stop her, she slipped right out the door.
The priests lost their words at her retreating figure, which vanished in an instant, and looked at each other.
"But isn't Lady Semele... deaf?"
"Now that you mention it."
The female priest who had been observing the mood asked cautiously.
"Is she a priestess as well?"
"Huh? No, Semele is a trainee. She still has a long way to go before becoming a priestess."
"I see. But she certainly seemed..."
Like the highest-ranking person among us. Her tone of voice, her demeanor, the aura ingrained in her very being.
The female priest closed her mouth, unable to bring herself to say the rest.
The sight of Psyche with her hand on her collarbone, fuming with anger, was fierce and elegant. So much so that, for a moment, she brought the princesses to mind.
"But is it okay to just send Semele alone?"
"I don't know. Even if she gets scolded, she'll take it herself, I guess."
"I didn't know she had such a fierce side to her."
"I knew she wasn't ordinary from the moment she insisted on coming to the royal palace, but..."
The priests looked toward the door where Psyche had disappeared with expressions of bafflement. There wasn't a single woman who sought refuge in the temple without a story of her own. But hers was a truly unusual reaction.
Why on earth did I get so indignant over Side's story? It's just a fictional old tale...
Meanwhile, Psyche, who had stepped out of the temple, still couldn't contain her anger. She couldn't care less about the origin of Demeter's capital name. It was a place where her family's lineage had been passed down for generations since her parents, but she had no particular affection for it anyway.
To be honest, she didn't even know what the city looked like. Since coming of age, she could count on one hand the number of times she had stepped outside her mansion. Whatever she wanted or needed was always prepared by the servants, and without a moment of boredom, people visited her every day bearing flowers.
There were so many praising her beauty that even wandering poets from foreign lands composed and sang songs about her, but in reality, very few people knew what she actually looked like.
Do I have to die and become a corpse like Side for my face to be known? As a hunched old grandmother?
She would rather die than have it end up like that. Psyche stroked her face with her chapped and cracked hands, then frowned.
Lately, her skin felt rough, and she felt like her wrinkles had increased. A strange smell emanated from her dry lips.
She was so terrified that she couldn't even bring herself to look into a mirror.
"I heard she was so beautiful, but what is that horrific appearance?"
On nights when the round moon rose, Psyche would think that somewhere beyond the dark blue sky, the sanctuary of the gods must be spread out.
Outside the window of the mansion where she stayed, the songs of suitors echoed day after day. Terrified, she couldn't even poke her head outside.
The only time she could find peace was when the goddess of dawn cast her veil over the world.
Psyche vaguely imagined.
Wouldn't the noble gods suddenly visit her windowsill one day, hand her a single narcissus, and whisper to her?
— Beautiful Psyche, won't you come with us?
But whenever the moonlight swept away the mist as if mocking her delusions, Psyche would collapse in despair and weep.
I want to escape. From this ugly world... I want to go to a place where only eternal life and youth, and the beauty of a maiden exist.
Anyone, please...
She had to meet Princess Asteril soon. Now, she was truly her only hope.
Ψ
Crackling.
The surroundings were entirely engulfed in flames. Eyes as pitch-black as a dark abyss howled, consumed by rage.
— Pyraaaah!
It was a cry that seemed to tear at her eardrums. He continued to roam the burning city, crying out as if sobbing.
— Pyraaaaah!
It was so agonizing to listen to that she covered her ears. But it was no use. It flowed into her mind, crushing her skull.
Why...
Her heart ached.
Why can you not let go of your lingering attachment?
The city engulfed in the inferno was Cocytus. And the one wringing his head on the fiercely burning field, draped in black clothes, was...
Nyx, that man.
"Ugh..."
As she furrowed her brows, excruciating pain rushed to her temples. Both shoulders were heavy, as if someone was forcing them down from above. She wanted to wake up, but she couldn't lift her eyelids.
Her body felt like a lump of iron. She felt a sweltering heat, as if she were in a furnace. It was agonizing, as if her entire body was enveloped in flames.
"Uurgh..."
Asteril thrashed about. The recurring nightmare slipping through her clenched teeth became claws that raked her back.
Wake me up.
Please wake me up.
Please, wake me up...
Callian's gaze, who had been sitting by the window, turned to her. He stared at the priest collapsed beneath the bed. Outside the door, two female priests had lost consciousness and collapsed.
He had merely put them all to sleep for a while.
The female priests were nodding off, and the old priest in white robes was swaying with bloodshot eyes. They were the ones who should be lying on the bed instead.
The collapsed priest held a wet cloth in his hand. Callian looked at the water basin placed on the bed.
Watching from outside the window for three days, they periodically wet a dry cloth in cold water and wiped her forehead, the nape of her neck, and her back. It seemed they were trying to bring down her fever.
He placed a hand on Asteril's forehead. Seeing her chapped, white lips, one side of his chest grew heavy again.
At first, he thought it was due to the poison of Himeros. The unneutralized poison was circulating through her blood vessels, causing the muscles near her heart to repeatedly contract and relax.
But every time he saw her in pain, his agony gradually worsened. He couldn't take his eyes off her for a moment, and even touching her felt too pitiful, so he repeatedly grasped at the empty air and let go.
"...ril."
There was still no reaction. He had thought she was different from ordinary humans, but she was merely a mortal body after all.
He unconsciously stroked her lips. Disgusted with himself, he felt a wave of nausea rise. To desire her body even in a moment like this. The body intoxicated by Himeros spewed out lust at any given moment, paralyzing his reason.
Of course, he had endured it with superhuman patience, but he couldn't help being blankly intoxicated by her scent from time to time.
"If the fever doesn't break by the end of today, a critical situation may arise."
Humans are mortal. All mortals die. She, too, would eventually face death.
It was an unremarkable premise. It certainly should have been. The fear of death should have had nothing to do with a Ketos, who stands above the supernatural.
He brought his finger to the breath flowing out from between her tiny lips. He didn't know how many times he had checked her breathing throughout the night.
Suddenly, the corpse of the princess killed by Nyx came to mind. When the image of Asteril turning into a cold body with the face of a corpse superimposed on her crossed his mind, the blood in his entire body ran cold.
Callian's eyes, gazing at Asteril, wavered. Though a Ketos with near-perfect regenerative abilities, he did not possess the power to heal other lifeforms.
He recalled how Asteril had healed him when he was Rian.
Callian took off his upper garment and squeezed into the bed beside Asteril. Hanpung, who had been resting on the windowsill, approached and blew a breath. The cold energy of the snowfield cooled her forehead refreshingly.
He turned to his side, pulled her into an embrace, and used his arm as a pillow. His low body temperature slowly began to cool her feverish body.
"Why do humans consider death to be cruel?"
"It is the end of everything, so it is cruel. People often choose death when they are at the very bottom of the swamp of despair and can no longer become any more miserable."
Her heart pounded. It was a sound she had heard countless times. From the women who offered their blood to Asphodelos, from those who were attacked by the female priests and died screaming.
Callian buried his face in the nape of Asteril's neck. He didn't know what a prayer was. He didn't know how to yearn for something, nor how to wish for it.
Only after imagining her death did he begin to understand that foolish act performed by humans in despair.
But who could listen to a Ketos's prayer? He was an existence that couldn't even wish for anything.
"Emautu Splanknon."7)
The low voice, like chanting a spell, echoed mystically.
"Erannos Anteros..."8)
The pain in her shoulders, which had felt like being crushed by a heated grill, gradually diminished.
It's cool. The breath touching her forehead contained a soft chill. The embrace hugging both her arms and back was pleasantly cool.
Breathing became much more comfortable.
The breath of the West Wind, who returned from the ice valley once a year, was exactly like this.
I miss you, West Wind. In Lethe, there lives a wind spirit with the exact opposite personality as you. Clueless, self-centered, and a coward, but a truly cute and endearing child. I always wanted to introduce them to you someday.
"North Wind..."
A sob escaped her. When the image of the North Wind bursting before her eyes and being torn to shreds came to mind, her heart was crushed and ached. My comrade, who vanished without even letting out a single scream.
"Do not weep."
A low voice whispered, caressing her cheek and earlobe. As if soothed by his touch, Asteril, who had been sobbing with her heaving chest, gradually lowered her cries.
Her eyelids, heavy as iron, slowly opened. Her warped vision swayed as it tried to focus. Only after several arduous blinks did the overlapping images begin to clear.
The moonlight was exceptionally bright.
Perhaps it was because the light she hadn't seen in a while was dazzling, but the moonlight shining like a halo made his bare skin look even smoother.
Callian, who was lying on his side stroking her cheek, raised his head and paused.
It was the first time. He, who had always looked this way with half-closed or languid eyes, had widened his eyes.
"Did you... save me again?"
He said nothing. She felt a sense of peace in his appearance, answering with silence.
Asteril surveyed her surroundings out of the corner of her eye. The objects and furniture arrangement in the room were familiar.
The chair with an olive leaf pattern by the window. The woolen blanket that the Queen Mother often draped over her lap while telling old tales.
"Are you Side, by any chance?"
"I am."
"How..."
"..."
"Did you bring me here?"
He responded with an affirmative silence. Seeing the priests and female priests sleeping propped against the wall, Asteril roughly grasped the situation.
"How many days... was I lying down?"
"Four days."
"That long?"
Callian gazed for a moment at Asteril, who looked around the room with emotion. The words wouldn't leave his mouth.
"The fruit has borne abundantly."
Last night, Hanpung had been to Lethe. He said ambrosia was hanging abundantly and irresistibly from every branch of the sacred tree.
"As promised... I will send you back to your homeland."
"What?"
She asked again, wondering if she had misheard.
"Stay in Demeter."
Asteril, who had been listening blankly, sprang up.
"No!"
But then she grabbed her shoulder and had to lie back down. Lying there, she looked at the ceiling and spoke.
"Didn't I tell you? Even if my bones break, even if my flesh burns black, I will stay by your side."
They were stubborn eyes. Unchanging since the very first time he saw her. A woman who seemed never to have yielded her own will in her life. Yet, a woman who had been forced to sacrifice more than anyone and had carried it out.
Was that why he was captivated? The honest desire she never hid even before Keton, the pride that had firmly ripened even as she found her own life dreadful, the strange capacity for acceptance that kissed and embraced even the darkness... all of it caught his bored gaze.
"A promise—is that more important than the feelings flowing between us?"
Feelings? It rather felt like he was the one asking that.
"Is it because I'm a nuisance?"
Had he grown tired of her, who was always getting hurt, collapsing, and needing to be cared for?
Based on her observations thus far, Keton was the absolute worst race when it came to caring for and considering others.
Let alone maternal or paternal love, one could not even expect camaraderie or fellowship; thus, understanding affection or love between a man and a woman would be in the realm of the impossible.
Even so... she believed there was a special connection between her and him. Not merely the merging of bodies, but something warm and cozy born from combining their warmth.
Kalian answered as if fulfilling an obligation.
"The poison of Himeros has not vanished."
"What... do you mean?"
"I thought embracing you would dispel the poison of Himeros, but I was mistaken. It has not abated in the slightest."
It felt as if her chest was being hacked to pieces.
"Why?"
"…"
"Was it not me? Did you not want me?"
"It was you."
"Then... why? Why all of a sudden?"
He had wanted her day and night. Her body felt like it would break, but she had been happy. Had she ever been desired by someone to this extent?
"Don't tell me..."
A sudden flashing thought choked her throat. Asteril's pupils, which had been feigning composure, trembled minutely.
"Was it not enough?"
It was said that Himeros dragged the deepest desires to the surface, driving one mad with an unquenched thirst. Had she been briefly deceived by his exterior, which had seemed to regain its calm?
"Was I not enough to satisfy you? Is that why you are doing this?"
Come to think of it, every time they explored each other, he had bitten his lip as if suppressing something. As if struggling not to pour everything out.
Draped in a blue cloth, he quietly turned away. Asteril gripped the bed tightly.
His back, distancing himself as if putting space between them, stopped before the square window. The hazy moonlight settled upon his broad shoulders like powdered salt. Much like her crumbling heart.
"Find someone who cherishes you."
What? What was he saying right now?
"An ordinary human man, just like you."
She could not discern whether this was a dreadful reality or a long nightmare. Nor was she trying to.
"And bear many children."
A hollow laugh escaped her. Had her body been intact, she might have rushed over and beaten him with her fists.
"So that when you wake... you may see descendants who resemble you."
If his intention had been to deliberately wound her and crush her heart, it was a success. As her vision blurred, Asteril bit down hard on her lower lip.
"I don't want to."
Kalian paused. His gaze, fixed on the window, flicked toward her.
"I said I don't want to."
A gust of wind crashed against the window like a wave. The rocking chair that had been swaying toppled over, and flying leaves swirled down.
"Kalian!"
Asteril reached out as if to grasp him. The cold air brushed past her lips and faded away, stealing the last remnants of warmth.
Her outstretched arm dropped lifelessly. Her pupils blurred and contorted. The moonlit windowsill stood empty, leaving only the trace of her breath.
A spasm seized her breath. Something she had barely held together threatened to collapse. The moonlight piercing through the room like the teeth of a comb was too stinging to endure.
In her devastation, even tears refused to fall. Had she ever coveted someone this much in her entire life? Had she ever been loved this deeply by anyone?
Though his gaze was indifferent, he had always watched over her narrow back. No matter where she went or what she did, he followed like moonlight illuminating her path.
Kalian.
Whenever she called that name aloud, those broad shoulders would appear from nowhere, filling her vision and pulling her into an embrace. Every time, her heart had swelled to bursting.
She had thought it would be fine even if she lost her status as a princess, even if she was stripped of her title as a priestess. She had simply imagined lingering in Lethe, slowly growing old by his side.
Whether his true identity was a Keton or a god, it hadn't mattered. Even if he were a monster, she would not have cared. No matter what his essence was...
As if carved into one another, she had believed they would be together forever.
"Did he really leave?"
Only an empty echo returned. It was futile. She had struggled her entire life, striving for recognition from others, but the outcome had always been like this.
Acknowledged, only to end up alone. It had been that way with her family, with her comrades, and with her devotees. In truth, she despised being alone more than anything.
"Why, why am I always the one... being left behind." Her throat tightened. She grabbed the blanket and buried her face into it as her eyes burned hot. Her breath hitched.
Should she just die like this?
Playing the dutiful daughter was something she now refused. Playing the priestess of miracles had grown tiresome. Living like a molted skin, only superficialities remained.
The title of princess, the position of priestess, the unasked-for fame and honor. They were all as fleeting and meaningless as passing clouds.
She should have just been a mediocre being...
Now, she could no longer tell if she was truly kind, if she was feigning pitifulness, if she was begging for affection, if she was a priestess serving the gods, or a hypocrite who despised them.
If she died, would they come before her corpse and let out a sigh of regret? Would they shed even a single tear? Kalian? The Demon King? Her sisters?
A hollow smile formed on the lips that had been muttering to herself with unfocused eyes.
I want to die, yet I cannot. What am I living for? I am...
"Life is a blessing bestowed by the gods."
It was a punishment for preaching such contradictory truths every day. When she herself had never believed those words to begin with.
Creak.
Asteril blankly raised her head. Light was seeping through the gap in the door. Someone holding a torch was peering inside with wide, startled eyes.
"Lady Asteril...?"
The garments of the figure who cautiously stepped inside looked familiar. Gray wool fabric, a shoulder brooch shaped like an ear of wheat.
The ear of wheat was the symbol of the Mother Goddess.
Asteril's gaze sharpened. She checked her surroundings out of the corner of her eye. Beside the bed, the High Priestess lay collapsed in slumber. She stopped crying at once.
Wiping her face with the back of her hand, Asteril cleared her throat.
"I do not recall giving you permission to enter."
A sharper tone than usual burst out. Startled, the woman pushed back the hood of her priestly robes. A flustered expression was visible between the bright blonde hair cascading over her shoulders.
Meeting Asteril's eyes, she hastily prostrated herself on the floor and bowed her head.
"F-forgive me, I have committed a grave offense. I merely came to deliver the priests' garments."
Asteril pressed her forehead with a look of exhaustion. A headache throbbed in.
"A priest of the Grand Temple... no, an acolyte. What is your name?"
The prostrate woman clasped her hands together against the floor. She seemed immensely tense, considering how her voice trembled like that of a sinner.
"I am S-Semele."
Semele—it meant 'one who dwells on the earth'. A name fitting for one who served the Mother Goddess, Gaia.
"Semele, leave the clothes there and take your leave."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Turning away, she hesitated before speaking.
"Um, Your Highness..."
A glare asking what it was now was directed her way. She swallowed hard. Even so, she had to confirm. Just what it was she had witnessed a moment ago.
"May I ask who the man who was with you just a moment ago was?"
"…"
"He seemed like a very noble figure..."
She was a curious acolyte. At the same time, utterly impertinent. To dare peek into a princess's bedchamber.
Normally, she would have wielded her silver tongue and deflected it with a joke, but right now, even parting her lips was painful.
Staring out the window, Asteril opened her mouth feebly.
"He is... the King of Haides."
"Pardon?"
Had that acolyte not asked such an impertinent question, she might have been able to dismiss today's events as a mere fever dream.
It would have been self-deception, but the wound in her heart would have been less severe. She could have rationalized it, even if out of self-pity, as an unavoidable measure to survive.
But now, there was a witness. To the fact that today was not merely a dreadful nightmare, and that he had truly abandoned her and left.
She had to face the truth.
Even if she fell into despair, her creed was to look toward the surface of the mire and keep living. Pretending what had already happened never occurred was far more terrifying.
She was no idealist.
"How could the King of Haides be in a place like this..."
"Please leave."
"M-My apologies, Your Highness!"
Psyche scrambled out and shut the door in a disheveled manner. The doorknob rattled as the heavy door closed, then clattered to the floor. It seemed to have been broken by the fierce gale that had struck earlier.
She clasped her trembling hands together.
The King of Haides?
A lie.
If that man were an ordinary human male, her heart would not be pounding like this. Men, regardless of their status or age, were inherently vulgar, hideous, filthy, and selfish creatures.
The man's body had glowed with a soft luminescence, as if infused with moonlight. His hair had billowed as if carried by the wind, and his low voice had pierced her hazy vision and melted into her ears.
Could any artisan, devoting their entire life and soul, ever sculpt a figure like his?
Psyche held her breath and looked down at her hands. The image of Princess Asteril reaching out as if pleading with the man came to mind. The back of the man as he coldly turned away was cruel, yet noble.
Another spasm seized her hands. Her breathing quickened. It was a scene of overwhelming exhilaration.
There was no doubt.
Princess Asteril was loved by a certain male god.