Asteril, lying on the grass, looked up at the jade sky and opened her mouth.
"West Wind, there’s something I want to ask."
— You may ask me anything, my princess.
"What are you guarding here?"
— ….
"You’re a gatekeeper, aren’t you? Is that why you remain in Cocytus? Are you bound by someone who knows your name?"
— That is not so. I remain here of my own will.
It was the same answer as North Wind.
Of his own will.
"For someone you admire?"
— ….
"Am I right?"
— So you heard something in Hades. What is it that you have learned?
"I met North Wind in Lethe. He is called Nodos, one of the Breaths of the Northern Sky, and he was guarding something there."
— You speak of the Cup of Oblivion.
"What, you knew?"
West Wind was the eldest of the ancient spirits among the wind spirits. The moment he heard Nodos’s name, West Wind shrugged and smiled meaningfully.
— To think that little, young Breath of the Northern Sky has already become a proper gatekeeper, fulfilling his role….
"He acted like a child, even as a gatekeeper."
— Lil.
"Hmm?"
— My Lil, my precious princess.
Asteril laughed happily. West Wind’s voice was sweet and soft, sounding almost like a song.
The grass of the hill wrapped around her back like warm wool. West Wind blew away the insects with his breath and then covered Asteril’s legs with fallen leaves like a blanket.
— Did you ask what it is I guard here?
"Yes."
— I have waited for that question for a very long time. The one I serve and admire is the master of the soft earth and the blazing sun, the one who watches over and embraces all life on this land. And it is she who bestowed upon me the name Zephyros.
"So West Wind has a name too. I thought West Wind was just West Wind."
West Wind laughed aloud. The crickets chirped among the long blades of grass in turn.
Cool and clear.
She suddenly thought of North Wind, who had cackled and rolled on the ground. His frivolous movements had been closer to buffoonery than elegance. Remembering it made her miss him terribly, and deeply sad.
— Lil, the most precious existence in this world to me is you. That is why I wanted so badly to tell you my name, and yours alone. But it was not permitted until the proper time.
"Why?"
— That too you will know when the time comes.
"Why must everything wait for the proper time? It would be better if things could simply be done as they arise."
— It is the wisdom of those who have gone before. Just as fruit must be eaten when ripe to avoid poison."
— The existence I have cherished and guarded here…. You are quick to understand and clever, so you may have already guessed.
She felt she knew but could not bring herself to say it. At the thought of *surely not*. It was frightening to glimpse a clear outline. Because then she would no longer be able to close her eyes and pretend not to know.
— It is you, Asteril.
Ah, as expected. Why was it that premonitions never missed? This feeling of her heart swelling yet growing heavy. She was being pulled deeper into a whirlpool from which she could not escape, unable to resist, as if the ground beneath her feet were giving way like sand.
"Then where were you when Nyx attacked me? Weren’t you supposed to protect me?"
The little Breath of the Northern Sky had perished trying to protect her. If it had been the powerful West Wind…. Would things have been different? No, West Wind would have struggled too. Even if he had been by her side, he could not have opposed a Ceton.
West Wind seemed sorry, unable to answer readily.
— Yes, you are right. You probably did not know, but eight years ago when you left for Sidereo to become the high priestess, I secretly followed you. However, Hades was impossible. Even I cannot come and go freely from that place. Only someone as dull as Nodos could stick his backside there and remain. Furthermore, there is a place here that I must never take my eyes from.
"What is it?"
— Come here. There is something I must show you.
West Wind crossed the meadow toward the temple. Asteril hesitated, then followed him. The two took the birch-lined side path and arrived before the ancient old temple. It was a sacred domain of Cronus.
Asteril gazed at the sun setting beyond the ridge with uneasy eyes.
"West Wind, the sun is setting."
— You remember well. Yes, I told you not to enter here once the sun had set.
Do not set foot in the circular ancient temple when darkness falls. The old god sleeps; you must not disturb him. West Wind had always frightened her so, turning away her curious steps.
— Come in.
The circular stepped temple was open on all sides except for the massive stone pillar at its center. The afterglow was shortening and the darkness lengthening. Perhaps because of anxiety, a chill set in. Asteril hugged her arms and stared at West Wind.
"West Wind?"
— Hush. Soon light and darkness will cross perfectly. Then the rift of Erebus will reveal itself.
When the shadow of the western mountain stoops like an old man, when twilight creeps between the stone walls as if peering in, and so when intruders take fright and turn their backs….
Faint patterns began to appear on the shaded stone floor. Asteril, gazing carefully at the stones carved with ancient letters, unconsciously reached toward a stone beneath the pillar.
Upsilon (Υ).
It was the same letter engraved on the boulder when she had found the Cup of Oblivion in Lethe.
When she pressed the letter firmly with her index finger, the foundation stone sank downward and the floor began to spiral down with a rumble. West Wind watched in silence, seemingly marveling that Asteril found it readily without any guidance from him.
Soon, a large room like a stone cave opened beneath their feet.
— This is an ancient room. Now, Asteril. Enter and receive the forbidden knowledge. You are qualified.
It was an attitude quite different from North Wind, who had scolded her that taboo was not knowledge.
Seeing Asteril hesitate before the stairs, West Wind approached and patted her shoulder.
— Are you afraid?
"Am I?"
— Of the darkness? Or the truth it illuminates? Or else the wounds you will receive from it? What frightens you?
Was that it? Was she afraid to face the truth? Was her resolve still lacking? She was tired. Too many things had happened, and she had encountered too many unexpected truths. None of them had been pleasant. She felt increasingly isolated and alone.
"Actually, there was a stone cave similar to this in Lethe as well. A place North Wind guarded…. Inside was hidden the Cup of Oblivion."
— So you have already entered an ancient room. That place too must have been a sacred domain of Cronus.
Asteril moved her feet down the stairs. Light poured from beyond the western mountain, which had turned ashen-blue like the sky at dawn. She felt West Wind’s solemn gaze behind her. Perhaps that was why she could not stop walking.
I am Pandora’s daughter, and Pandora was an existence called the living Kore, and she seems to have been a Ceton who pretended to be human, and she disappeared after giving birth to me, and Nyx seems to be wandering in search of her…. Callian, if you were here, would you have embraced me protectively with your broad back? Would you have pressed your lips to my cheek and the nape of my neck, whispering that you are mine? The nights when I felt imprisoned in your embrace now feel distant. The sensation of your long-knuckled fingers, the breath that escaped when you spoke in a low voice…. I miss everything so terribly.
Asteril covered her face with both hands and rubbed her heated eyelids.
*Pull yourself together, Asteril. You are alone. As you always have been…. You must endure this alone as well.*
She steeled her heart and raised her head. At the bottom of the spiral staircase, a torch blazed brightly as if to greet her.
It was an ancient mural.
A relief carved into the stone wall depicted the Tree of Life. The sacred tree stretched its branches long to either side, laden with heavy fruit, and before it a goddess sat upon a stone throne, holding out a fruit in her hand. A man and woman knelt with both hands raised above their heads in a sacred posture, receiving the fruit. The top of the branches signified the earth above, and the bottom the underworld.
"The Festival of Ambrosia."
At the sudden voice, Asteril turned. An unexpected guest had appeared. Her pupils dilated in surprise, flickering like torchlight.
The shadow sitting atop the stairs, poured with moonlight, leaped down from a height that could have broken his legs. The green-eyed man was scowling. The moment the small red flame burning in his palm captured her gaze, West Wind revealed hostility.
— To what do we owe the presence of Hestia’s guardian?
Aris replied indifferently.
"What brings me here? I’ve come to meet the Princess of Demeter."
— ….
"Didn’t you hear? Step aside."
— I cannot.
"I haven’t come to harm her, so move."
— Address me.
"Who are you? Her mother? Her partner? Blood kin? Get lost."
"It’s all right, West Wind."
Asteril stared over Aris’s shoulder. For a brief moment, she felt the hope that perhaps he had not come alone. But that couldn’t be. Her heart, which had barely rippled, quieted in disappointment.
"What business do you have, Lord Aris?"
"I’ve heard the circumstances. You managed to survive."
"It is my specialty. Do you not know that well?"
Aris was at a loss for words. Had she rubbed alkanet root beneath her tongue? She was venomous, sharp to the point of being bitter.
"You still… me…"
*Do you hate me that much?* The last words lodged in his throat and would not come out.
Asteril turned back to the mural. Aris stared blankly at her back before a vein bulged in his neck.
"Hey, Princess of Demeter!"
"I am listening."
"No, look over here."
"Do I need eyes to listen? My two eyes are busy right now."
"Are you displeased that I am here? Or is it because of what I did to you before?"
Asteril sighed and turned around. His visit was neither welcome nor unpleasant; if she had to choose a word for it, it was a bother. She had turned away because looking at him would remind her of Callian, so she could not understand why he whined like a sulking child.
"What is it you wish to say?"
"Well…."
Aris took a moment to catch his breath. He relaxed his brow and organized his thoughts. Why was this black-haired princess becoming a more difficult opponent every time he saw her? She had unearthed guilt, which he had no right to feel, and even made a desire for recognition spring forth, which he had never felt toward his parents. What would he gain from being acknowledged by a mere human? Could it be that he had truly been rejected by Lian and lost all his self-esteem? No, the pride of a Ceton was immortal even then.
"If you have nothing to say, may I ask something first?"
"Huh? Ah…. Yes."
"What is the Festival of Ambrosia you mentioned earlier?"
"It is a festival of the Cetons. The one seated on the stone throne here has red hair, so it seems to be Lady Gaia…. It is a scene where she bestows ambrosia upon other Cetons."
Asteril pointed her finger at the maiden standing behind the sacred tree in the painting and asked,
"Do you know who that woman is, carrying a jar on her shoulder?"
"Well. I don’t know that one."
West Wind, who had been watching silently, answered in her stead.
— She is Kore.
Kore was the primitive faith of Demeter, which had been an agrarian society. She was such an ancient indigenous god that there were priests who interpreted her as the matrix of Gaia. Kore at a Ceton festival? It was astonishing enough that it implied Gaia was a Ceton, but to place Kore behind her as well?
"West Wind."
— Yes?
"The King told me. Lady Pandora, who was called Kore, is my birth mother."
— ….
"Is Lady Pandora another name for the Mother God?"
— ….
"Is it the name Lady Gaia used when she took human form?"
Spirits could lie when necessary. North Wind was at least naive and clumsy at it, but West Wind was perfect even when lying. He wrapped things in packaging more plausible than truth itself, so it was impossible to tell. That was precisely why she could not count how many times she had been deceived by him. But he had never once maintained a false silence. Whether it was because the talkative wind spirits could not endure silence, or whether he would rather lie than keep his mouth shut, she did not know, but so it was. In other words, for them, silence meant either affirmation or apology. It was also why the sound of wind in the air never ceased.
"Asphodelos, Hestia, the Cup of Oblivion…. They were all things connected to Lady Gaia. And they were guarded by someone. Why have you protected me, West Wind?"
West Wind opened his mouth readily.
— Yes, you are the daughter of the one I admire.
Was it the truth? West Wind’s lies were difficult to detect. So it was a useless war of attrition to examine whether it was true or false. Did she want it to be false?
As if peering into Asteril’s inner thoughts, West Wind explained in an even gentler voice.
— This mural depicts Lady Gaia’s dual aspects. It is a scene where Lady Gaia, disguised as an ordinary maiden, looks upon herself bestowing the fruit of life upon the gods and grieves. She bestowed ambrosia upon the Cetons, but she laments that there is nothing she can do for humans.
Now she felt all the pieces falling into place. The countless stone statues of Kore existing in Demeter. Every village that worshipped Kore had at least one name. The Mother God had descended upon this land countless times. She had bestowed countless blessings. She had embraced, forgiven, and loved countless times. But now that visage could no longer be seen. The familiar and close indigenous god Kore was forgotten, and only the lofty name of the Mother God Gaia remained. Pandora had become an ominous existence before anyone knew it, and children these days did not even know what Kore was.
"Wait, what is all this? You’re Lady Gaia’s daughter?"
"Nothing is certain."
Aris looked dazed. Lady Gaia had a child? And it was this black-haired princess? Did Lian know this?
"Do not tell Callian yet."
"Why?"
"Just because. Until it becomes more certain."
Asteril glanced sidelong and carefully touched the mural where parts had been erased here and there. Pigment stuck to the rough surface came off on her fingers. West Wind’s words were the same. They might be truth painted with clever colors.
The King had spoken with a sad face. He said Lady Pandora had disappeared without a trace after giving birth to her. He had wandered searching for her traces his whole life but could not find her at all. She was a god who would hide among humans at every opportunity. Even if she tried to hide her existence, it would have been difficult. Moreover, given the King’s personality, he must have combed through the entire kingdom with persistent stubbornness.
"West Wind, I am asking just in case…."
— Speak, my princess.
"Can gods die?"
Unlike her, who asked with an anxious heart, West Wind answered simply.
— They can die.
"But gods are immortal."
— There is no such thing as immortality in this world.
West Wind had the ability to tell even cruel truths sweetly. With a smiling voice, he tucked her disheveled hair behind her ear, as if to say such things were no great matter. It was that kind of talk.
— King Amphita, though not your birth mother, cherishes you ever so much.
West Wind knew well what she longed for. What saddened her, what shook her, what she resigned herself to.
— Kiane and Penelope are sisters, but they are not as close as you and I, are they? Being blood sisters may mean nothing at all. So, Lil, you need not be lonely. You have me and Rhea.
West Wind’s comfort was a sweet whip. It snapped her awake even as it melted her heart with a gentle breeze.
"Then where is my birth mother?"
— ….
"Has she passed away? Can I no longer meet her?"
— You can meet her.
"Really?"
— Of course.
Her heart grew urgent. Asteril unconsciously stepped forward and asked,
"Where is she? How do I find her?"
— You must find the four ancient rooms.
"The ancient rooms? You mean the ancient temples?"
There were three more places like this? Ah, she had found one in Lethe, so did that mean she only needed to find two more?
— And when you have acquired all four knowledges, she will appear.
"Can I not see her now? Must I really collect all four knowledges?"
— Did I not tell you, Lil? Everything has its time…. You are not yet ready. You are not ripe.
What child in the world must prepare just to see their mother?
Was it because she had grown more suspicious since returning from Lethe? In the past, West Wind’s words had felt like absolute truth, but now they sounded similar to the whispers of Himeros.
"You’re not lying, are you?"
West Wind laughed. With a smile that seemed to hold his gaze a little longer than usual.
— A spirit’s words hide truth even within falsehood. So do not doubt, and believe.
"Pfft."
Aris twisted his lips and laughed. When Asteril glanced at him, he waved his hands as if apologizing and said,
"No, black-haired princess. I wondered where you got that insufferable manner of speaking, and now I see. You had quite the teacher beside you? At a glance, it sounds like a plausible logical fallacy."
He was not wrong. After all, it was West Wind who had taught her language all day long, she who had no memories before the age of nine. So, what she had learned was fallacy?
A headache washed over her. Asteril turned away and muttered,
"Let’s go back up."
She had spent only about two hours inside the cavern. She dragged her heavy legs up the stairs and emerged into the darkness.
Outside, stars had densely risen in the dark sky.
Asteril, finding the foundation stone to close the secret staircase entrance, raised her head as if remembering something important.
"Right, so why are you guarding this place, West Wind? There is nothing much inside except the mural."
— Something special will soon appear.
"What is it?"
— Well, is that not for you to find out?
Indeed, North Wind had been a pathetic gatekeeper. One had to be as brazen and composed as West Wind to make even trivial things sound like riddles. In the cave of Lethe, the Cup of Oblivion had been hidden. If her guess was right, the four knowledges concealed in the four rooms would each be something related to Gaia.
That I am Gaia’s daughter.
Then I too….
"Does that mean you’re a Ceton too?"
Aris asked with a peculiar expression. He scrutinized Asteril’s face as if picking it apart and then looked her body up and down.
"No matter how I look, you’re human. If your arm or leg is cut off, does it regenerate on its own?"
"As if that would happen."
Aris could not dispel his suspicious gaze. Was this why Hestia had disobeyed his command and stopped attacking Asteril? Because she was Lady Gaia’s daughter?
Outside the ancient temple, moonlight pooled between the shrubs. Following the sunken footprints back, Asteril reached out and tapped the row of planted birch trees.
"You, come to Lethe with me."
"Why?"
Aris, walking ahead with his back to her, continued,
"Lian told me to bring you."
"Even the almighty tell lies?"
"…."
"In the first place, there is no way he would have sent Lord Aris to fetch me."
That uncanny girl, still killing with a single blow using that hateful face.
"What is even more certain is that Callian would never have told you to bring me."
"Why?"
"…."
"What on earth happened between you and Lian? You, and also Lian…."
Something was strange. Aris swallowed the last words.
"He told me to return to Demeter. To meet another man, have children, and live well."
Asteril stopped walking, perhaps because her throat was clogging.
"Oh? It seems Lian has finally come to his senses. Worthy of applause."
Aris grumbled and turned around.
"Can you not hurry? It is a long way…."
He had been urging her with a scowl, but then his expression turned sour.
"Wh-what."
The haughty black-haired princess was crying. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her dirt-stained hand, trying to stop, but hiccuped.
Flustered, Aris looked at West Wind. West Wind only showed a sorrowful gaze.
He felt worse than expected. He felt as if he had made her cry, which even aroused guilt.
"It is not like Lian definitely wouldn’t send me, but…."
"…."
"Yes, it is a lie."
"…."
"But it is true that I came to see you."
Asteril looked up at Aris with wet eyes. Her pitch-black pupils seemed to suck in the soul like deep wells.
Aris touched his brow and averted his gaze. The back of his neck was damp, as if cold sweat were trickling down.
"I-It’s true!"
"Why? If it is the Water of Oblivion, you should be able to make it alone by now, so it cannot be because of that…."
"As if it is because of the Water of Oblivion?"
*I came to kill you. To cut your breath in place of that crumbling Lian and bury you without a trace.* He had resolved himself so bitterly, planning to attack without mistake this time…. Why had the sight of that girl running across the meadow before the temple and hugging West Wind so torn at his heart?
"The thing is…."
Asteril waited calmly for the hesitating Aris. He had always been a distractible Ceton, but today he was especially so. He avoided her gaze this way and that, scrunching and relaxing his face….
"You…. I mean, black-haired princess! I came to take you to Hades."
"So why?"
"Because…."
*Because Lian, who is head over heels for you, is about to do something crazy.*
"Asphodelos is dying."
"How could that be? I confirmed that he had recovered."
*Ah, forget it.* Since he had started the lie, he would see it through properly. He would show that he too could talk glibly without batting an eye, just like that bastard Zephyros.
"Nyx seems to have done something. He has been ailing and wasting away. Soon the clan will come to eat ambrosia…. It is a disaster. Lian will be held responsible."
"What? Nyx did it, so why would he be punished?"
"Because he is Asphodelos’s guardian, for one."
"What about Nyx? Lethe and the Cup of Oblivion were originally all under Nyx’s jurisdiction, you said."
"That is true."
"But he does not receive any punishment?"
"Nyx is…. he is a bit special. How should I put it, he has immunity."
Asteril was dumbfounded and wrinkled her small forehead. Not special, but peculiar.
Cetons were beautiful. Callian was so gorgeous and dazzling that it overshadowed things, but Aris too was a handsome man. Had he been human, he would undoubtedly have been worshipped as a living youth god, with men and women of all ages lining up to offer flowers and wealth. Nyx too was pretty on the outside. Only his unfocused, murky pupils, his thin voice as if he had never gone through puberty, his thin and narrow shoulders unsuited to his height…. It was like looking at an unfinished statue, giving off an unsettling feeling.
"Very well, I will go to Lethe."
"What? Really?"
"You came without Callian’s knowledge, didn’t you?"
"That is right."
"Will you be all right?"
"With what?"
"Just…. never mind."
The two fell silent, turning away from each other. He as he was, and she as she was, because a corner of their hearts had collapsed. Understanding each other brought uncomfortable feelings seeping in.
"What I am about to say is a bit late…. I am sorry, Lord Aris."
Asteril was the one who spoke first. Aris only glared at the innocent ground.
"I think I understand a little how you must have felt then."
"Hmph, don’t make me laugh. What are you? What are you to understand the heart of a higher-dimensional existence like me?"
"Indeed. The day has come when I understand Lord Aris’s feelings? I wonder if my low-dimensional thinking has…."
Asteril smiled with a dimple. Aris wore a confused expression. Uncomfortable. No, it even felt wrong. *Princess girl, don’t look at me like that. I hate you, I want to beat you to death for stealing Lian, I really…. you….**
"So I will forgive what you did to me as well."
"What?"
*Who are you to forgive me?*
"I said I forgive you."
Pupils blacker than the heart of Erebus. Eyes that seemed to pierce through his heart. *Lian, did you feel this too?* It was killing him. He wanted to escape that gaze immediately, yet this strange feeling of wanting to keep looking—what was it? Shame? No, it was like his feet were falling asleep, but his heart pounded even more than that. He had thought it was guilt, but it did not seem to be.
"Speaking of your mother. Could you have mistaken Ananke for Gaia?"
"Lady Ananke…."
"She is Lian’s mother, the wife of Lord Uranus who is the head of the clan, and the one called the clan’s greatest eye. A formidable person. Also the scariest person in the world."
"More than Lord Uranus?"
"By my standards, yes. Many in the clan fear Lady Ananke more than him. Once you stand before her…."
You cannot utter false words.
Her entire body felt bound and unable to stir, her head was hazy, and her hands and feet were numb. Was this what it felt like to be trapped within his pupils?
“Anyway, black-haired princess.”
“What is it?”
“If you go to Hades… you might die.”
Asteril scoffed. A warning now, of all times? Coming from the one who was the main culprit behind half of those near-death incidents.
“I’m serious. This time, even Lian and I might not be able to save you.”
“I know. Oh my, is Lord Aris trying to save me too?”
“Well… because Lian would be upset if you died.”
“Is that so?”
Asteril narrowed her eyes, feigning indifference. But Aris’s face remained grim.
There she goes making that face again?
Though she herself didn't seem to notice, a smile that looked melancholic all day long hung at Asteril’s lips.
“Then dying once might not be so bad.”
She said it playfully, forcing the tone.
“It would be pointless, wouldn’t it?”
The crescent of her eye-smile gradually faded, as if she had been wounded by her own words.
“Stop babbling and get on this shoulder.”
“You want me to ride?”
“Just sit here like a chair.”
“I don’t want to. I’ll obviously fall backward.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
“Trust you? You’re someone who tried to kill me twice… no, a Ceton.”
Aris forcefully seated the refusing Asteril on his right shoulder.
“I said I forgive you! Will you stop milking it?”
“Even if you forgive me, the memories remain, don’t they?”
Asteril promptly wrapped her left arm around his head. To be precise, she grabbed his hair as if it were a rope and yanked it.
“Hey, I can’t see! Your arm is blocking my view!”
“Are we really going like this? Can’t we just ride a horse?”
“Horses are too slow. Or would you rather be carried?”
“Between us, that’s a bit…”
“What are we, then?”
“….”
“What?”
“Well. I’d rather not define it.”
I should just….
Aris clenched his teeth. What did Lian really see in this woman? He had been a fool to feel sorry for her, even for a moment.
For Lian’s sake, I should get rid of her right now… ha, I can’t. Why? She was a wench I tried to burn without hesitation not long ago.
Only after hearing that she was Lady Gaia’s daughter. The reason he couldn't kill her must surely be due to the grace he had received from Lady Gaia.
Yes, what was such a wench to him.
Ψ
The black river Styx truly flowed with black water. Tannic acid from the trees planted upstream made the waters appear ashen. But people believed it to be carrion water, thinking the bottom of the Styx was covered in corpses. The musty stench from the river mouth also contributed.
The river of death.
The waters seeping between the towering valleys across the river flowed toward the lower reaches of the Lethe. Beyond the canyon encircling the black marble palace lay a vast plain—the delta where the waters of the Styx and the river of Pluto met. The sight of these two rivers meeting was so profound it defied words, truly a land worthy of being marked as Nyx’s domain. So much so that even Cetons journeying to Lethe would stop in their tracks and stare, spellbound.
Unlike the river Styx, the river of Pluto was a white river. A spectacle of a black river and a white river meeting—could one even imagine it? It was a breathtaking sight seen only in Pluto’s realm. Their currents differed too much to mix, flowing as they pushed against each other like meshing gears. Like a goddess draped in black and a goddess in white joining hands to perform a sword dance. Or like two giant serpents winding their way up, their bodies twisted together like a braid.
Bizarre, yet beautiful.
Is that not what awe is—has not the sublime always appeared thus before human eyes?
In any case, it was a scene witnessed only by the few humans who reached the canyon, passed down only as legend. To behold that majestic landscape with one’s own eyes was a privilege beyond mere fortune.
Aris stopped running upon reaching the river mouth. Asteril, covering her nose against the foul reek of water, lifted her head from his shoulder.
“What is it?”
“Did Demeter send another woman to Hades?”
“Why would she? Why do you ask?”
“Never mind. Don’t worry about it.”
Asteril looked around with a drowsy expression, yawned, and closed her eyes again.
Aris’s gaze turned toward the ferry landing. An old dugout boat was tied with a rope to a post submerged in the water.
Two shadows.
Someone was bargaining with the ferryman. The West Wind, observing the face of the one speaking with the ferryman, suddenly trembled in displeasure.
—Why is *that* here….
The West Wind flew toward the ferry in fury. Aris tilted his head.
What?
It was the West Wind who had volunteered to follow to Hades when urged by Aris to hurry as time was short. The fellow, who had been silently following as if pushing a sailboat, suddenly ran off in anger; Aris folded his arms, looking intrigued.
Does Zephyrus getting angry mean it involves the black-haired princess?
Asteril, seated on his shoulder with her arm atop his head, had collapsed into a deep sleep like a child.
Shall I watch for a moment, then?
The West Wind’s rage, shouting and whirling above the ferryman’s head, seemed to reach even here. The old ferryman, meanwhile, leaned on his oar and yawned repeatedly, pretending not to hear. Between his upper and lower lips, spread like a cave, white saliva stretched and split like a spider’s thread.
“You want a ride?”
“Yes.”
Psyche replied, unable to hide her loathing.
“The fare?”
“How much?”
Charon slowly looked over Psyche’s body with half-open eyes.
Startled, Psyche tightened the coat thrown over her. Her eyes, strained with tension, narrowed.
“I asked how much!”
Though she wrapped herself in her wool coat, her slender wrists and ankles, the glimpse of bright blonde hair and jade-colored eyes, were still young and delicate.
Charon laughed, opening his reeking mouth.
“You have money.”
“Ah, then….”
“But I would like your youth instead.”
Psyche’s hand, which had been putting the fare back into her sleeve, trembled. She made a confused expression, as if wondering what she had just heard.
“I’m asking for your body.”
The ferryman’s lips twisted upward.
Psyche faltered and stepped back. Charon’s hand, its nails blackened, approached before her eyes.
“N-no… I don’t want to!”
She screamed and shoved Charon’s shoulder. His back, bent like an old man’s, swayed and lost balance.
Splash!
Charon, fallen into the water, flailed and stretched out his arms as if begging to be saved. Psyche grabbed the oar and struck the back of his head with a thud.
“Die! Filthy scum, die, just die!”
“K-kuh… stop, stop it….”
Charon, who had been gurgling and sinking below the surface, thrust his head up again. He swam desperately and shouted.
“Woman, without me, you can never cross this river. I am the only one who knows the current and flow; alone, you will never find the entrance to Hades….”
“Don’t make me laugh!”
Then the rags Charon had been wearing floated up and began to drift away on the current. Charon, catching a floating plank and gasping, trembled as he hugged his bare shoulders.
“What… what’s wrong with your body?”
Psyche stopped swinging the oar, clicking her tongue. The ferryman’s scrawny shoulders were rotting black.
“I am a body that cannot do vile things to you even if I wished. The desire between my legs has long since withered like these shoulders… I was merely jesting. So do not be afraid and let me ferry you.”
He was a man who did not even evoke pity. Pathetic to the point of being disgusting. It seemed desire still dwelled in his rotting body.
“Just row quietly, ferryman.”
Charon nodded and boarded the boat naked, taking the oar. His ribcage-exposed body was gruesome, but his sagging buttocks and thighs of only skin were worse.
Psyche frowned and gazed across the river. Charon added his voice to the sound of cutting through the water.
“I was a soldier of Thanatos.”
The god of darkness gave the gelded soldier an oar and named him Charon, meaning joy. As if mocking his fate.
“There were many Charons. I don’t even know which Charon I am. I simply drifted on the river and rowed as ordered; before I knew it, my body had rotted.”
“What is Thanatos?”
“You don’t know Thanatos? Are you truly from Demeter?”
“I have hardly ever been outside the mansion.”
“Have you caught some illness?”
“No. The disease was what those swarming outside had caught. Half the world is full of lunatics worse than dogs in heat, isn’t it?”
Charon pretended to focus on rowing. Psyche rolled her eyes.
“The other half can’t be called normal either, but anyway, the problem with men is that even when they’ve grown old and wretched, unable to take care of their own bodies, they think they’re still in a flower garden. Not knowing if what’s before them is a flower or a flame, they reach out their hands first.”
“Not all are like that.”
“All humans are. But gods must be different.”
“Gods?”
“Yes. I am searching for a male god.”
“Which male god do you speak of?”
“The King of Hades.”
Charon fell silent. At his sudden silence, Psyche gave him a pathetic look.
She thought he was frightened.
Creak, creak.
The sound of rowing was long and sorrowful, like the sigh of ages. Charon occasionally lifted his head and muttered to himself.
“Yes… yes, I told you I understood….”
He’s definitely insane too. I should have let him drown.
Psyche covered her nose with her sleeve and prayed to cross the river quickly.
Upon reaching the opposite bank, thick fog obscured her vision. Charon stuck the oar into the riverbed mud and steadied the boat.
“Hades.”
Psyche disembarked warily. Charon remained hunched and seated, unmoving.
As she looked around lost, Charon pointed and told her the direction.
“Follow the black violets and you will reach a cave entrance. That is the path to Lethe.”
“Thank you.”
“May I ask one thing?”
“What is it?”
“Why do you seek the male god?”
“To ask him to make me a god.”
“….”
“If that fails, I at least want him to take me where they live.”
“And if even that fails?”
“I’ll make it happen. Even if I have to steal the King of Hades’s heart.”
Psyche spoke grandly, as if bestowing a favor. A confident smile even formed on her lips.
If Princess Asteril could do it, there was no reason she couldn’t.
Even for a brief moment would be fine. If she could possess the King of Hades’s heart, even for an instant, and thereby fulfill her wish….
Charon stood up, taking the oar. As his grotesque body was revealed again, Psyche held back her disgust and turned her head.
“Nyx.”
“What?”
“The name of the male god you seek.”
Psyche’s eyes widened. Charon’s gaze was utterly exhausted.
She stared at his face, then turned around. Now that she heard the god’s name, her heart sank.
Somehow, she was afraid.
As Psyche disappeared into the cave resembling a dark throat as if fleeing, Charon pushed off his boat and muttered.
“Is this enough?”
—Yes. Well done.
“You, the breath of the west—I wonder why you play such tricks.”
—My treasured one nearly died because of her. I would have liked to cast her into the Styx, but who knew you, once a soldier of Thanatos, had grown so weak….
“You know well what fate befalls followers of Nysa. Furthermore….”
Charon raised his head with an empty expression. His unfocused pupils gazed vacantly into the air.
“I felt pity. She reminded me of the women of Nysa.”
The West Wind clicked his tongue.
To think who would pity whom.
Psyche walked without rest after leaving the underground cave. The wind blowing from the narrow canyon howled. Was it because of the overcast sky? It felt like an ashen land stretched on. She was not one to go wild over flowers and butterflies, but the bleak landscape gradually made her shoulders hunch.
“I’m scared, Nanny….”
She tucked her neck into her coat and walked watching only her feet.
Then, playful calls mixed with the breeze blowing across the field.
—Hey, girl! Where are you going?
—It’s dangerous that way.
—Want to rest in the golden reed field?
Psyche muttered again with gloomy eyes.
“Nanny, will I be okay… can I do this….”
—What is it?
—She can’t hear our language.
“…S… Nyx….”
—Huh? Didn’t she mutter Nyx?
—Y-yeah….
—Hey, don’t talk to her. It’s ominous.
The golden reeds quickly changed their appearance. The shining reed field transformed in an instant into a field overgrown with weeds. They even stopped their constant chattering. It was a reaction befitting talkative, cowardly spirits.
Hugging herself, Psyche continued to murmur the god’s name. She felt she must not forget it.
Because it was the only clue she knew.
Meanwhile, young Cetons gathered at the road in front of the palace where cypresses were planted in a row, whiling away time. They could not hide their displeasure. They had followed Nyx to Lethe, but the order had come to stay quiet and behave. They prowled the surroundings like starving beasts, suppressing their rising irritation.
“Should we just go back to Nysa?”
“If we do, Lord Nyx won’t let it slide, will he?”
“Right, he might lock us away in the dark cells….”
“I don’t want that.”
“Then shut up and stay put.”
The male-form Ceton who had threatened the others propped his chin and suppressed his anger. He had his long hair roughly tied, wore a short chiton, and draped a thin tribon over his shoulder.
Most of them had not yet reached maturity, making it hard to distinguish by appearance whether they were female-form or male-form. Whether due to Nyx’s influence or their own refusal, their time of choice had continuously been delayed. As the Cetons’ day of choice approached, the frequency of shifting between female and male forms increased, which in turn caused unstable mental and physical states. Consequently, their whims became unbearable, their nerves grew hypersensitive, and their insides constantly boiled with causeless anger.
As pale sandstorms blew from the canyon, the cypresses wailed in agony as usual.
“Noisy!”
He kicked the innocent cypress trunks repeatedly to vent his anger. Not content with that, he snapped the branches of the fruit trees as if wringing a child’s neck.
The cypresses were submerged in grief year-round. Already prone to fussing and sobbing, they screamed as if someone were burning their bodies at the added torture.
“What are you doing?”
“Why? What?”
The Ceton, unable to contain his anger, clicked his tongue and looked at the comrade scolding him.
“Do you even know who planted these cypresses here?”
“Who?”
“Lord Nyx.”
The long-haired Ceton stiffened, his expression hardening.
“If you know, stop tormenting them. They are merely performing their role befitting trees of mourning. Just as Lord Nyx ordered.”
“Why would Lord Nyx order such a thing?”
“Who knows….”
The cypresses planted in a row along the road seemed sorrowful as they snatched the wind and embraced it. The winds, their tails tangled in the branches, shook their bodies irritably. But the cypresses stood firm. They were beings who voiced others’ sorrows in their stead, but were unexpectedly lonely, wishing for anyone to stay with them. And they wept and sobbed until the pain of the one who planted them had all vanished.
“Ha… why the sudden fuss about Ambrosia? Wasn’t Asphodel all dead?”
“Wait, over there… what is that?”
A female-form Ceton, hearing the male-form Ceton’s grumbling, spotted a shadow emerging between the canyons and rose.
“Looks human?”
“What’s a human doing in Lethe?”
“Who knows…”
The other Cetons gathered their gazes, intrigued. Curves finally formed on their bored lips. Like starving beasts discovering prey, their eyes gleamed.
“It’s a wench.”
“Yes, a young woman.”
Psyche loosened her coat, which had been wrapped up to her nose. The temperature was chilly, but walking briskly made her feel feverish. Sweat on the bridge of her nose trickled down to her upper lip.
Lethe was a place of long nights. Perhaps because evening arrived early, the sun was exceptionally short, and the dawn was quiet yet blue. The city with its varied hues of night was bleak. Though it was too empty of people to be called a city….
Fortunately, she was not one to scare easily. Or else she wouldn’t have walked the gloomy canyon alone for nearly half a day.
“Excuse me…”
When she entered the path where cypresses faced each other in a long row, she opened her mouth as if glad. She could see people gathered up ahead. They stood looking this way as if waiting for her, even before she spoke.
“Is this the royal palace of Lethe?”
Psyche asked, taking off the coat covering her head. Mist spreading like steam repeatedly obscured and scattered with the wind. Soon, shadows that had tread upon pale smoke revealed themselves.
They were appearances of indiscernible origin. Their skin was smooth and white like plaster statues, without a hint of blood. Their delicate features and red pupils were intellectual yet eerie, like northern gods.
“I was right. A human.”
“And a young woman at that.”
“Hoo…”
Psyche looked up at them, entranced. Truly beautiful, so beautiful. But not as much as the King of Hades. She didn’t feel her soul captured as when she had stolen a glimpse of him through a door.
“Don’t touch her. Lord Nyx told us not to cause trouble.”
“That is true.”
Their conversation buzzed like it was coming from a distant forest. Though they opened their mouths and spoke before her, their voices came from all directions. They existed here, yet it felt as if they looked down frighteningly from a high mountain peak. In their giggling gazes, childlike innocence and ruthless killing intent were mixed.
Psyche felt a fear she herself could not understand. Was it due to fatigue from the long journey? The fine hair on her skin stood on end. She did not even know it was awe. She was merely impatient, because she realized those standing before her were beings close to gods.
Now it was almost time. She felt she could soon reach him. She could meet him. Beyond their shoulders, within the black marble palace standing like a folding screen, the male god she had dreamed of awaited.
“But what business does a human wench have here?”
Ravens circling the black sky discovered her and the Cetons and descended onto the cypress branches. They rolled their red eyes and began to eavesdrop closely on their conversation. Psyche swallowed dryly.
“I have come seeking a male god resembling darkness and night… the ruler of Hades.”
“The ruler of Hades?”
The young Cetons’ expressions twisted variously. Because the name alone irritated them.
Kalian.
That bastard who came to Nysa and hung his comrades’ heads in bunches before the altar?
Just thinking about it made their teeth chatter and hands tremble.
They were all descendants of Chaos the creator and children of Erebus. Born with authority high as the heavens, beings called supreme.
Of course, they too knew what fear was. When standing before the Five Thrones, especially when Ananke imprisoned them in her pupils for interrogation, when Uranus’s lightning crashed before their noses, they felt a chill in their guts.
The problem was that they felt fear before Kalian that should only be felt before the Five Thrones. That they trembled and felt awe against their will toward one no different in age, one who had only just reached maturity.
Recalling that night, they felt their pride wounded to the point of madness. Cetons lacked the ability to forget, making it impossible to erase that humiliation. Beyond cracks in their self-esteem, it felt as if the value of their existence had turned into a handful of sand, trickling through their fingers like filth.
That was why they merely loitered and talked, unable to enter the palace gates of Lethe. Because if they entered, they would have to face Kalian, that bastard.
“So I… have come to find Lord Nyx.”
At her words, the young Cetons’ eyes changed.
Not Kalian, but Lord Nyx?
Their tone softened at the surging curiosity.
“How do you know Lord Nyx is here?”
“Because he is the King of Hades.”
Hades was originally a place Nyx created to deal with the Maenads, and the Cup of Oblivion was under Nyx’s jurisdiction from the start, so it wasn’t wrong.
“What should we do?”
“Lord Nyx told us not to make unnecessary trouble.”
“That is true…”
The most composed Ceton among them dissuaded the others again, but the young Cetons felt as if they were on a proving ground. They were bored and starving. And just then, prey as pretty and slender as a young deer walked in on its own—how could they not be tempted?
“Sadly, the timing is not good. Of course, it would be difficult to see Lord Nyx even normally, but anyway, it is impossible now.”
“Why?”
“His mood is not good right now.”
Is it because of Princess Asteril? Because he parted with his cherished lover? She couldn’t know how deep their bond was, but anyway, she was displeased.
Then he must be disheartened now. He must be lonely and miserable.
As was her habit, she interpreted things in the way favorable to herself and reached a conclusion.
“Please! I must see him.”
One Ceton who had been itching finally asked with a sly smile.
“Why do you seek Lord Nyx?”
“I-I….”
Psyche was lucky. Not only was it rare for so many Cetons to talk back and forth with her, they were letting her absurd and potentially rude remarks slide, even finding them amusing. The problem was that she didn’t know she was lucky.
“I-I want to become a god. Like you….”
“What?”
“Pfft.”
They giggled and laughed. Young radical Cetons, who fundamentally resolved their desires, were as impulsive as they were emotionally expressive, unlike the moderates. The drawback was that their cruelty and sadism were proportionate.
Anyway, Psyche was lucky once again. Lucky to keep her life, lucky to hear their answer, lucky to pique the curiosity of those with whims boiling over.
“Then you should have come to Nysa.”
“Nysa?”
“His domain is originally Nysa. He gave Hades away to another.”
“I see. Then should I go to Nysa?”
“Coming to Nysa doesn’t mean you’ll succeed. Those who have waited starving with thirst until their backs bent, who ate their own children from hunger yet still couldn’t abandon their desires, line the altars and fill the black mountain.”
“What? Then…”
“It means your turn might not come even until your last breath.”
“No!”
Psyche cried out as if clinging to them.
“Please take me with you. I… I can’t endure this life any longer. Every place in the world is disgusting and hard. Wherever I go, there are only ugly men. Besides, I’m growing older by the day. I don’t want to age any more. I heard there is a way if I find the gods. The food of the gods… yes, that! They say if I eat it, I too can become a god…”
Her appeal scattered into the empty air. The Cetons listened with indifferent attitudes.
“Please have pity on me. I have no parents, siblings, nursemaid, or family left. If even a god abandons me, I…”
The cypresses began wailing again. The canyon wind brushed past Psyche’s tangled hair.
“Child, stop now.”
Not knowing they had clicked their tongues and consoled her with such pitiful expressions, Psyche fell to the ground and sobbed. How many humans had come before them and pleaded as desperately as her? They had never been shaken from the start, nor did they feel any newfound sympathy.
Yet, what whim was it?
The male-form Ceton who had spent the whole day venting his anger on innocent cypresses opened his mouth ominously.
“Then… will you do as we say? If you do, we’ll take you to paradise.”
Psyche cautiously raised her head. She murmured between her lips.
“Paradise?”
“Yes, a festival that only chosen humans may attend. Under normal circumstances, someone like you would not even make the waiting list, but I shall grant you special priority.”
“….”
“On Nisa, you see. They say those lining up to enter Paradise wrap around the mountainside and then some.”
“Is that place the dwelling of the gods?”
“Something like that. It is a place where we share joy and revel in pleasure throughout the seasons. And it is said that there, we sometimes bestow a portion of our authority upon the humans who follow us. Beauty, youth, great strength… those are the things you mortals so desperately desire.”
Psyche stared only at the male-bodied Keton’s lips, as if entranced. The words flowing from his mouth left her wondering whether she was dreaming or awake.
— What are you trying to do?
One of the female-bodied Ketons asked quietly, her voice filled with concern. The male-bodied Keton, his eyes brimming with fury, replied via mental conversation.
— This is all because of the Ambrosia. If only the Ambrosia would stop forming, the Five Thrones would not care what we do. The Five Thrones has been far too lenient with those worthless mortals from the very beginning. They need to learn how foolish and treacherous they are.
— But it is still Ambrosia. The sustenance of our kind. If the Five Thrones—especially Lady Ananke—were to find out, she would be furious. She would surely notice. Have you forgotten that no falsehood can be spoken before her?
— Of course I know. That is why I intend to use that girl. So long as it becomes something that she did, not us. It need only be a deed committed by a human girl driven by foolish desire.
Before anyone knew it, dozens of crows had flocked to perch upon the cypress branches.
He locked eyes with the flock and asked inwardly,
— Is it not so, Lady Nyx?
The crows spread wings larger than their own bodies and resettled firmly upon the branches.
Caw, caw.
As the piercing cries rang out, Psyche flinched and looked around.
“Miss, the crows are spirit birds kept by the God of Eternal Slumber. So do not look at them or meet their eyes, even if they cry. If you lock eyes with a crow, your soul may be stolen.”
“Now then, shall we enter that palace with me?”
He extended his hand with a kindly demeanor. Anxious, Psyche took it.
“I… what must I do?”
“I shall tell you step by step as we go. It is not a difficult task. But it is also something only you can do.”
Psyche glanced back over her shoulder. The other Ketons, excluding him, stood motionless, staring intently at the two of them as they walked away.
Caw. The talons of a crow perched on the branch twitched as if to snatch at her hair.
Even if it were a story invented by her nursemaid as a jest—to quell the dread writhing and rising in her chest—she would not look.
The female-bodied Keton watching Psyche’s retreating figure wore a troubled expression.
Another believer is taking the hand of darkness and walking away. Knowing not what fate awaits at the end of that road, its jaws agape on one side….
She held a pitiful gaze for a moment, then turned her head away.