Outside the local governor’s mansion, darkness and mist mingled, carrying the bleak sound of the wind.
The soft crunch of earth sounded underfoot. Leuke, who had come out holding Iskis’s hand, looked up at the sky with anxious eyes. It was a pitch-black night.
“Don’t worry. Everything will be all right. The Chief never fails, does she?”
“I suppose not. She’s cold-headed and capable, after all. She’s not the sort to be swayed by affection. She abandoned her own daughter without a shred of hesitation the moment she was born, so…”
“Leuke…”
“If it hadn’t been for Iskis, I would have failed without question earlier too. Would I have been abandoned again then?”
Iskis looked at her with pity.
“Anactra will be safe. Hecate’s rule is that we don’t touch anyone other than the target.”
“I know. That’s not what’s bothering me.”
“Don’t tell me… Is it because of Princess Thetis?”
“No matter how much I beg Mother, she won’t save her, will she? There’s nothing in it for the clan.”
“Let’s try to find a way.”
“You’re saying she’s imprisoned somewhere in this very mansion where we’re standing. And yet we can’t do anything… Does that make any sense?”
“In any case, the Chief’s plan is to infiltrate Lady Thetis’s procession on its way to the altar, so there will surely be a chance.”
Megara had said it would be somewhere in the Black Mountain. That it would be connected to a band of fanatics absorbed in a ritual offering blood sacrifices.
“If she goes to the Valley of Death, Lady Thetis will end up dead. What can we do with soldiers watching? If this were Lethe, Lady Asteril would surely have done something. She would have used her wits somehow and saved her…”
Through all the things they had endured, Leuke and the other princesses she had met in Hades had formed a deep bond with one another, something like comradeship in arms.
If Princess Thetis died, Leuke would surely suffer and carry guilt for the rest of her life.
“For now…”
Iskis, who had begun to speak again, turned his gaze beyond the wall.
A moth? In the darkness, something thin and broad was drifting slowly through the air.
Leuke, whose eyes were sharper than Iskis’s, recognized its shape at once.
“Why is there a leaf…”
A fig leaf the size of a palm was gliding leisurely over the wall where the torches hung. Curious, Leuke reached out her hand.
“What is it? It’s circling in midair?”
The fig leaf stopped exactly at the two of them’s eye level, then bobbed where it was like a paper boat floating on water, turning in circles.
Leuke froze.
“If anything happens, flee in the direction the fig leaf flies on the wind.”
The moment she reached out, wondering if it could possibly be, the leaf began to fly away swiftly, as though fleeing.
“Let’s follow it!”
The two of them ran at the same time. The fig leaf slowed now and then as if waiting for them. Then, whenever the distance narrowed, it would soar off again.
They ran along the wall lined with torches. Before they knew it, they had reached the mansion’s entrance. The guards on watch were sitting slumped on the ground, asleep.
The two went outside and ran down the slope where the farms stretched out.
“Lord wind spirit, where are you taking us?”
The North Wind, who had been flying with the fig leaf perched on his head, started in surprise and stared down. Leuke was looking up at him with a delighted smile.
What… Can she see me?
“Lady Asteril sent you, didn’t she? Right?”
The North Wind stopped moving. Then he let the leaf that had been floating in the air drop to the ground.
Sensing something, Leuke looked around.
They were on a hill road where a large oak tree stood. Iskis noticed the ground beneath their feet growing bright and looked up at the sky. The clouds that had been tangled together like layers of vines were clearing.
Just then, something shot out like lightning from the brush behind the oak tree. As it lowered its body with a growl, as though about to pounce, Iskis pulled Leuke into his arms.
“Leuke! Iskis! Run!”
A shadow that had been secretly following them came rushing over and shouted. In her right hand was a hunting dagger she had drawn in her haste.
“Stop, Rhea! I told you not to play those kinds of pranks!”
Rhea, her ears pricked, stopped licking the back of Iskis’s hand and quietly turned around.
The two, who had fallen backward and were sitting there in a daze, looked astonished when Rhea wagged her tail and rubbed her forehead against someone.
“You were startled, weren’t you?”
Asteril stroked Rhea’s back as she sat with her hind legs folded beneath her like a stone statue. Leuke, who had been sitting there pale with fright, slowly widened her eyes.
“Lady… Asteril?”
“It’s been a long time, Lady Leuke. Have you been well?”
Leuke ran straight to her and flung her arms around Asteril’s neck. She was so glad to see her that she burst into tears.
A figure who had been watching the scene walked out from behind the oak tree. Seeing her, Leuke gave a soft cry of surprise.
“Lady Melinoe, you came too?”
Melinoe, dressed in a simple tunic with obsidian earrings, gave her characteristic sardonic smile.
“What on earth happened to both of you?”
“It’s a long story. More importantly, Lady Leuke, the person behind you…”
Only then did Leuke turn around and notice Circe standing there with a tense expression.
Now that she thought about it, she seemed to remember hearing Circe’s voice earlier, screaming her name.
“Ah, she’s my mother.”
“I am Circe. Who are you?”
Circe asked in an aggressive tone, frowning. The hunting dagger was still in her hand.
“Mother, this is a princess of Demeter. She is also Iskis’s and my benefactor. Please show her proper respect.”
“It’s all right, Lady Leuke.”
Asteril smiled, dimples forming in her cheeks.
“I am Asteril, third princess of Demeter and High Priestess of Cocytus.”
“How is it that a princess of Demeter has Rhea with her?”
Circe’s suspicious gaze turned toward Rhea. Asteril, who had faltered at the unexpected question, answered calmly.
“Rhea is the guardian beast of our temple. She has been by my side since the day I was born. How is it that you know Rhea, Lady Circe?”
Leuke looked uneasy. Circe’s reaction was strange. This was the woman who had not been shaken even when her own daughter came to find her. For her mother, who was usually so cold it hurt, to look so agitated…
“What is your relationship with Lady Pyrrha, Lady Asteril?”
Asteril held her tongue and thought. Pyrrha meant the red woman. Or perhaps the woman of fire. But she felt as if she had explained that meaning before…
—Now I understand. Pyrrha, you… drank the water of oblivion behind my back, didn’t you?
—Have you forgotten even this? Pyrrha, even that I called you by this name? You had so very many names. As many as the dolls you created… I disliked all the names humans gave you, but Pyrrha, at least, was not bad. It suited your hair, blazing red like the sunset.
Nyx’s murmuring voice flashed through her mind.
Yes. Pyrrha was another name for Pandora, and Pandora was another name for Gaia. Pyrrha was another face of the Mother Goddess.
—Pyrrha… my Pyrrha.
His thin voice, murmuring like a sigh. Emotions twisted like a warped horn, as though sinking into a mire…
“Leto!”
At Circe’s sharp voice, a beast came running through the darkness, appearing with lithe grace.
There stood a black panther, identical to Rhea as if they were twins, its tail raised.
Circe bent her knees and embraced the black panther. It was a posture only a master could take.
When Rhea saw Leto, her ears perked up, and she sauntered over to bring her nose close. The two black panthers, alike as reflections in a mirror, pressed their noses together and explored each other, then rubbed their cheeks as if delighted.
“Leto is a guardian beast who protects not only me, but all of Hecate. I heard it until my ears ached from the time I was young. That Leto had a twin named Rhea.”
“I didn’t know. That Rhea had a sister…”
“They were children raised by Lady Pyrrha. What relationship do you have with Lady Pyrrha, Princess?”
Asteril watched the two panthers roll tangled together down the hill in play and murmured.
“I wonder… I’d like to know that myself.”
Ψ
Circe invited Asteril to their hideout. She said Hecate’s greatest elder was waiting.
“The horses are prepared below the hill. Let us go.”
“Wait a moment.”
Asteril approached Melinoe. Melinoe, who had been cleaning an arrowhead beside the cart, cast a glance toward Circe and replied sharply.
“You are not going alone.”
“Then come with me, Lady Melinoe. Lord Ivar as well.”
“I alone will go. It would be better to leave that one behind.”
At Melinoe’s reply, Ivar, who had been sitting in the cart, looked utterly dumbfounded.
“I’m going too! I’ll protect Lady Asteril.”
“Protect her? With what talent of yours? If you’re a fisherman, then go fish by the water. Do you think you’re some royal guard?”
“This woman, seriously… Back in my homeland, I was a renowned warrior too! Huh? You know? They called me the Blood Axe!”
“Where is your homeland?”
“Th-that place up north…”
“Where in the north? Speak properly.”
“Would you even know if I told you?”
“Of course I wouldn’t. How could I possibly know a place where the likes of you lives?”
“What… Wow, you’ve really been arrogant beyond belief since earlier. Who the hell are you to look down on someone you’ve only just met like that?”
“I do not need even a passing acquaintance to judge a worthless man like you.”
“What… What, a worthless man? Then what are you? Are you a princess too? Looking at the way you’re dressed, you seem like the daughter of some common hunter. What makes you so arrogant? Just because Lady Asteril treats you well, you act as if you’re royalty yourself. Where is your homeland? What kind of woman are you?”
Come to think of it, Melinoe’s clothing was very different from before. Leuke approached Asteril’s side and whispered in her ear.
“That’s a short tunic, short enough to show her knees. The fabric looks rough and thick too… And what are that bow and quiver Lady Melinoe is carrying over her shoulder?”
The bow, which looked to have excellent resilience, was clearly not something a novice could handle. The sandals tied with straps up to her calves were made of doe hide, soft and silent underfoot, the kind used by skilled hunters.
“I am a warrior.”
At Melinoe’s words, Ivar snorted.
“What? A warrior? You?”
“Yes. A hunter of the forest.”
“If you’re a hunter, you’re a hunter. What do you mean, a warrior?”
“Is that not far more convincing than a fisherman becoming a warrior? Ha… Let us stop. Conversing with the ignorant is exhausting. I have understood quite enough that you are a fool.”
“Hey!”
When Ivar shouted, huffing with anger, Melinoe furrowed her brow as if he was beneath contempt and climbed onto the cart.
“Why are you getting on there, you damned woman! This is my cart, you know?”
“I know, which is why I got on. Now depart.”
“What?”
“Did you not hear me tell you to depart at once?”
When Melinoe barked at him fiercely, Ivar, startled, grabbed the reins without realizing it.
Asteril, who had been watching their argument with a face full of interest, burst into the laughter she had been holding back.
Asteril, who had followed Thetis’s route, had met Melinoe and Amphitrite on this hill only a few sijin ago. As expected, Amphitrite had been under Melinoe’s protection.
The three of them had embraced each other as if reuniting with blood sisters from whom they had been separated. No words were needed. Simply patting one another on the shoulders was enough to ease the longing.
The fight had begun when Ivar, watching that sight, started making snide remarks from the side out of needless jealousy.
The moment Melinoe saw him sitting in the cart, she had ordered him, as if displeased, to stay far away. Naturally, the dumbfounded Ivar had flared up and snapped back. There was no need to explain what followed.
“By the way, where is Princess Amphitrite?”
“There is someone among our party named Monera. She is looking after her together with her daughter.”
For the first time in a while, Leuke’s expression brightened. Seeing the two princesses again made her heart pound as if she had returned to the days of Lethe’s detached palace.
“Then let us depart.”
When Circe raised the hand wearing the sapphire ring, men dressed in black with masks over their faces emerged from behind the brush, leading horses.
Rhea and Leto followed side by side behind the cart, while the rest of the men rode on horseback, surrounding the cart as escorts.
Their hideout was in an unexpected place.
As a nomadic people who moved according to the stars, the Hecate clan had established hideouts in many regions, and Nysa’s hideout, they said, was the oldest among them.
It was said that while the other hideouts had been changed and closed down numerous times, this place retained its original form.
The peak of the black mountain felt as though it loomed over the village like the head of a crow guarding its perch even in the dead of night.
The entrance of the sacred mountain was paved with stone steps and polished smooth, but the surrounding trails beyond it were rugged and overgrown with brush, rarely seeing human traffic.
As they walked around the back of the mountainside, a shaded cliff revealed itself. The wind blowing through the steep rocky slopes could be heard whistling.
A narrow path between the towering cliffs.
It was a passage barely wide enough for one or two people to pass through. Horses or carts seemed entirely out of the question.
After Kirke dismounted and signaled for those behind to follow, Melinoe glanced at Kirke's waiting subordinates and whispered.
"By the way, can we really trust that woman who claims to be Princess Leuke's biological mother? She certainly looks just like Leuke... but she suspects us. She looks ready to put a knife to our throats at any moment."
Asteril looked up at the sky for a moment. Due to the cliffs towering on either side, the sky stretched out long and narrow like a stick, still pitch-black as if inside a crow's folded wings.
She quietly closed her eyes. The mountain breeze blew refreshingly, carrying the cold breath of the night.
Swooooosh.
Tilting her head back and surrendering her body to the wind, Asteril looked radiant, as if the white Milky Way was pouring down like a waterfall right there. Everyone focused their gaze on her, drawn by an inexplicable reverence.
A soft smile, gentle as a spring breeze, graced Asteril's lips as she opened her eyes. Leuke, now looking completely wide awake, exclaimed.
"Lady Asteril! Did you converse with the wind spirits again? Right? Did you ask the spirits?"
"I greeted those who have been staying here for a long time."
Asteril's gaze darted briefly toward Kirke. Her eyes, black and deep as a well, were chilling, as if they could pierce right through one's mind.
"They say they have all been watching you since you were very young, Lady Kirke."
Kirke faltered, curling her fingertips into her palms. It was clearly just a passing remark, but that smiling face sent cold sweat running down the back of her neck.
"Then, shall you continue to guide us, Lady Kirke?"
"I shall."
Replying with a noticeably stiffened demeanor, Kirke walked past Asteril to take the lead.
Asteril.
She had thought it was a familiar name from the first time she heard it. It was only after ruminating on her memories the entire ride here that she realized.
Wasn't it the name of the princess revered as the incarnation of Gaia in Demeter?
The miracle of Cocytus, a healing priestess who could even defy death—she had thought it was all just pie in the sky. Does she really have some sort of power? Or is she a fraud skilled at deceiving the human eye?
A god? There is no such thing in this world. Gods do not exist. The priests of the temples are nothing more than swindlers who prey on human weakness. This woman must be of that ilk as well.
She must have used the naive Leuke to uncover the secrets of the Hekate clan, extracted information regarding Leto, and then appeared with a similar black panther.
That spectacle just now was likely a convincing act put on using an easterly wind that happened to blow in. The clumsy Leuke was undoubtedly being fooled.
Wind spirits, indeed...
Kirke clenched her teeth and let out a sneer.
Her mother had spent her entire life staring at the cave wall, muttering as if possessed.
"Lady Pyrrha conversed with the earth and fire. At Her feet, the land bowed and the vegetation danced."
She had dedicated her life to managing the altar of that unidentified virgin goddess, carving countless three-faced statues as she waited. Had her mother also been bewitched and deceived in this way?
Asteril, who had been quietly observing Kirke walking with clenched teeth, suddenly spun around with a look of realization.
"Ah, right! Where is Lord Ivar..."
"If you mean that fool fisherman, he's tying up the horses back there."
Melinoe pointed with her chin over her shoulder. Asteril spotted the horses tied under a tree in the distance and a cart with its wheels secured by stones.
"Lord Ivar?"
He looked unwell, bent over and leaning heavily against the cart.
Something feels... strange.
Asteril pushed past the people and walked over. Rough, heaving breaths reached her ears. Ivar's back, clad in an old tunic, repeatedly swelled and sank heavily.
"...Lord Ivar? Are you alright?"
Melinoe crossed her arms with a disdainful look. Out of everyone perfectly fine, he was the only one struggling.
"Do you have an upset stomach? Let me see."
Stepping closer, Asteril rubbed his back and examined his complexion. Ivar only exhaled ragged breaths, offering no reply.
What was this? A small jar was rolling next to his hand, which was resting on the cart. Asteril picked up the jar and held it up, turning it in the moonlight.
It looked familiar.
Smaller than a fist, the jar's lid handle was an intricate snake sculpture. The embossed image carved on the side was also delicate and antique.
"Ah, Lady Asteril..."
Ivar squeezed out a groaning voice.
"I'm right here, are you okay?"
Asteril supported him as he swayed. His body was as hot as a blazing furnace. Strange. If his stomach was upset, his body should be cold, shouldn't it?
"Urk... Lady Asteril..."
Asteril flinched as she met Ivar's eyes when he raised his head.
His bloodshot eyes bulged out. They wavered, trembling as if he were desperately suppressing something.
His hand tightly gripped her wrist.
Swooooosh.
A breeze brushed across her forehead. These were the local zephyrs she had asked the North Wind to gather earlier. The zephyrs hiding among the trees rushed over and tugged at Asteril's hair.
— It's dangerous, Asteril...
— Dangerous, dangerous...
— Run away...
At that moment, Ivar abruptly grabbed both her wrists and shoved her down onto the cart. The sound of her shoulder fabric tearing rang out.
"Lord Ivar? What are you doing?"
Pressing his lips against the nape of Asteril's neck, Ivar fumbled over the folds of her clothes and began to grope her buttocks and thighs.
When Asteril screamed, a startled Melinoe rushed over. As Melinoe grabbed Ivar's shoulder to stop him, she was struck in the stomach by his swinging elbow and collapsed, crying out, "Agh!"
A pale-faced Leuke pushed Iskys' back. Kirke then raised her hand, signaling the two to stay still.
Seeing the signal, her subordinates drew their swords one by one. Witnessing this, Melinoe clutched her stomach and gritted her teeth, shouting.
"No! Princess Asteril could get hurt!"
Ivar was a giant of a man, a full head taller than most men.
With a skeletal structure typical of the northern lineage, his broad shoulders and chest—which looked as if he had an extra rib—were sufficiently intimidating; his clenched fists were like flails, and his thick thighs were muscular and solid like a warhorse's.
If a man like him applied even a little force to his grip, Asteril's slender neck bones could easily snap.
Ivar gathered Asteril's slender neck in one hand, glared widely, and clamped his mouth shut.
His ragged breath scattered white before his eyes, and she, beautiful as a goddess, was looking up at him in terror.
"L-Lord Ivar... Please stop. I can't breathe..."
His yellow-flashing eyes grew confused, then slowly widened. This was how it appeared in his field of vision.
My beautiful priestess, letting out seductive moans with a flushed expression. Her white arm reached out toward me, calling out yearningly, 'Ah, Ivar...'
He swallowed hard, leaned his excited body down, and violently sucked on Asteril's ear. Then, forcing her legs apart with his knees, he aggressively wedged himself between them.
"Stop! Lord Ivar, stop it!"
Asteril struggled with all her might, but he pinned her thighs down with his shins, mounted her, and grabbed her arms to immobilize her.
Panting like a lustful beast, he soon wore an ecstatic expression as he looked down at her. She's enjoying it too. She says she wants me, twisting her body and smiling.
"Bows! Loose your arrows!"
At Kirke's fierce command, one of her subordinates swiftly aimed a bow.
Thwack.
The sharp arrowhead flew and embedded itself precisely in the center of Ivar's back.
"Keep shooting! Hurry!"
Another arrow whistled through the air. This time, it struck the back of his right thigh.
Yet, he seemed to feel no pain at all. Like a stray dog lapping at a puddle, he gathered her soft flesh in his hands, sucking and savoring it violently.
Kirke was panicked.
It made no sense. No matter how aroused he was, the pain should have been significant. However, she couldn't aim for his neck or head either. If the shot went astray, Princess Asteril would be injured.
"I need to kill that mad bastard right now."
Melinoe approached with a murderous look on her face and snatched the dagger from Kirke's waist.
Kirke signaled to her subordinates aiming their bows to hold.
Melinoe shifted her weight to the front of her sandals to silence her footsteps. She sneaked up behind Ivar's back, holding her breath as she raised the hilt of the dagger.
At that moment, Ivar sensed the presence like a ghost and looked over his shoulder. His gleaming eyes met the moonlight-reflecting blade.
"Haah!"
Melinoe swiftly swung the dagger. Unfortunately, Ivar's movement was a step ahead. His hand pushed off the cart, and he leaped up. The blade grazed his side, splitting the skin and drawing blood.
"He's running, catch him!"
"Don't let him get away!"
Even in the chaos, without letting go of Asteril, he hoisted her over his shoulder and leaped down to the ground on the opposite side of the cart.
"Asteril!"
Melinoe screamed, her face flushed red with rage.
Whooosh!
It was then. A deafening roar of wind violently erupted, swirling the earth from the ground upwards, and the branches of the trees swayed wildly, tangling together as if binding one another.
The darkness deepened in an instant.
The shade of the dense fir forest gathered its shadows as if cowering. Frightened owls fluttered out of the way and took flight. The nightshades covering the ground spread the darkness even wider.
As the dust and leaves swept up by the gale gradually slowed and began to settle on the ground, all the winds bowed their heads, paying reverence to the entity that ruled the atmosphere.
The North Wind, in particular, flew in so fast it nearly scraped off his eyebrows, shoving the other zephyrs aside and prostrating himself flat.
— Confess, Nodos.
A deep, soft low voice echoed like ripples on the water, carrying an irresistibly commanding presence.
It resonated, filling not only the natural entities such as the trees and spirits, but also infiltrating the minds of the humans.
It was the voice of a god. Someone whispered with a terrified face.
The North Wind trembled pale, as if he had anticipated his appearance.
He even made Eos, who had turned over covered in thick clouds while embracing the moon, cast a glance down at the earth.
A smile crept onto the lips of the goddess, intoxicated with sleep. Soon, the pale ring embracing the moon vanished, and the surroundings brightened significantly. The primordial goddess blew a pale breath, scattering faint moonlight onto the earth. As if an entertaining spectacle had appeared in a boring shift.
The swirling gale gathered the moonlight falling like salt grains and began to mold a human form, as if sculpting a statue. The Himeros petal hanging around Asteril's neck resonated with this, swaying and floating in the wind.
Asteril focused her senses on the currents of wind seeping through her torn dress. The cool air kissed her thigh like a gentle caress before withdrawing, having detected a warm body temperature and a pulse.
Could it be...
Her heart pounded. From somewhere, the scent of flowers steeped in moonlight blew in.
— Who dares...
The fragrant night air descended, using the goddess's breath as stairs. The male god cloaked in moonlight cast a glare of fury at the trembling, prostrate North Wind.
— Do you seek to harm the Despoina whom Lethe reveres?
The North Wind raised his head as if wronged, pouted his lips, and pointed, 'Him!'
— I clearly tried to stop him. But as you know, after being annihilated and resurrected once, my breath is weaker than the strength of children blowing dandelion seeds.
He didn't forget to add that excuse as well, revealing a look of lingering indignation.
Ivar staggered, barely managing to brace his feet and keep himself upright. A tremendous gale had struck him; not only had it nearly sent his body flying, it had almost snapped his neck. Even in the midst of losing his reason, it seemed he could still sense a crisis that might kill him.
Everyone standing around wore expressions of utter stupefaction at the sight before them. Though they had witnessed everything, they could not for the life of them understand what was happening.
Kallian gently embraced Asteril, who had been lifted into the air, and landed upon the ground. Strictly speaking, rather than his insubstantial arms, it was Hanpung that had blown a soft breath to float her body down.
The touch that moved as though caressing the prone earth lifted her spilling hair and kissed her white shoulder.
Those arrogant lips, which took for granted the awe of all things, slanted down and devoured his lover’s lips, bestowing upon her a kiss filled with desire and longing.
Kallian… my god.
Asteril closed her eyes in delight. Within his transparent embrace, glowing pale yellow, she felt as safe as though every shield in the heavens had been gathered to build a fortress.
Kallian held her close, leaving small kisses on her lips and cheeks. Around them formed an atmosphere no one dared approach.
“He is the king of Hades.”
At Leuke’s whisper, Circe looked as though she were dreaming.
The man’s body, transparent as mist, shone gold as though rubbed with moonlight. And on top of that, the power to float in midair without even touching the ground.
“A king… you say?”
Not a god?
She was startled by the words she had almost blurted out without thinking. What am I thinking? A god… A god? But if not divine authority, how else could this situation be explained?
Melinoe, as if finally relieved, lowered her sword and sank down onto the ground. The being who made one feel safest when he was on one’s side had arrived, so all was well now.
With an expressionless face, Kallian swept his gaze over Ivar’s body from head to toe, then discovered the torn strip of Asteril’s clothing clutched in his hand and stared fixedly at it.
A faint tremor ran through his calmly closed lips.
—Hanpung.
At its lord’s call, Hanpung rolled once through the air and formed thousands of blades, spreading them out in the shape of a fan.
—Tear that bastard’s body to pieces. Leave not a single scrap of flesh behind.
It did not matter whether that atrocious act had been committed in ignorance or born of force majeure.
It was simply a blasphemous sin.
If this body had been his true one, he would not have needed to command Hanpung at all; with his own hands he would already have torn out the bastard’s neck and crushed it.
“Wait!”
The cutting wind aimed at Ivar’s heart softened like a calming wave. Asteril, arms around his neck, looked up at him pleadingly.
“You can’t kill him.”
Can’t? His straight brows furrowed deeply. Even that made him seem like a perfect sculpture of some youthful god come to life.
“He isn’t his usual self. Something was strange. We need to investigate. We have to hear him out first…”
Before she could even finish speaking, Ivar was sent flying with a “Gah!” amid a terrifying gust. His body struck a huge old tree with a thud.
“One can still listen without arms or legs.”
The flat, toneless voice cut her off.
Everyone watched with bated breath. The atmosphere was such that no one dared intervene—if they valued their life.
Though he appeared calm on the surface, that chillingly beautiful god was most certainly in a state of great wrath.
“Leave only his tongue. Carve away every bit of flesh down to the blood vessels.”
At his lord’s command, Hanpung formed blades from the coldest wind within itself, as if they had been carved from sharp ice.
“Kallian!”
He seemed to have already decided Ivar’s punishment as the man staggered to his feet, and showed no intention whatsoever of listening to Asteril’s pleas.
“He’s someone who helped me a great deal!”
A frost-sharp gaze glanced down at Asteril.
“Even if it is your request, sparing that bastard is impossible.”
“Please…”
Kallian bent toward Asteril as he did when they made love behind a curtain of mist, and delivered a deep whisper.
“If you permit me to make that wretch beg me to kill him, I will consider it.”
“What are you planning to do to him?”
Watching the two of them, Leuke clasped both hands together with an enchanted expression, as if envious.
If you permit me…! He wasn’t even her lover, and yet her chest fluttered so hard she thought her heart might burst.
The way he brushed his breath against Asteril as though he were about to kiss her, then whispered sweet words by her ear, made even the honeyed deeds of minstrels seem pale in comparison.
His distinctive commanding tone blended fantastically with his gentle low voice, melting the ears.
And on top of that, he possessed transcendent power that humans could not even reach beneath his feet… Perfect. Simply perfect.
So delighted, Leuke clasped her hands and admired the scene, unaware that Ischys’s expression beside her was growing grave as he glanced sideways at her.
“Kallian! Are you really not going to listen to me?”
He was not listening at all. The fact that he was this angry meant he had seen everything Ivar had done. Ketons did not know mercy. Kallian, especially, detested leaving room for pity or compassion.
“You said you would do anything I wanted! You said I was your heart!”
Hanpung’s blades were already shooting like arrows through the fir trees.
Growing desperate, Asteril clenched her teeth and shouted.
“If you keep this up… tomorrow, I’ll go straight into the forest, dig up the roots of blue-purple monkshood, squeeze out the sap and drink it, then throw myself into an icy lake!”
At Asteril’s words, Kallian’s hand faltered. His face looked so shocked it was as if his heart had stopped.
Monkshood was the poison that had been used on the arrowhead the Hound Princess had fired at the lady-in-waiting who had been targeting Asteril. To a Keton, it had little effect, but to a human it was a deadly poisonous plant.
Kallian slowly lowered the hand he had raised in the air. Then the dozens of blades Hanpung had sent flying stopped dead in midair as well, gradually shrinking like frost flowers before vanishing with a snap.
“You cannot be serious.”
At her stubborn gaze, his eyes, which had seemed indifferent, trembled finely with heightened emotion.
“Do you want me to eliminate every monkshood in the world this instant?”
“No.”
“Then are you doing this to test how dearly I cherish you?”
“That’s not it either, of course…”
“Then could it be that you truly mean to die for that human male?”
His voice rang far lower and more threatening than before, and regardless of his intention, it was so chillingly beautiful that her heart began to race.
“Why would I leave you behind and die for another man?”
It was just a figure of speech. At times like this, Ketons were unexpectedly rigid, unfiltered, and lost their reason over trivial things.
Just as with their omnipotent and noble power, the pillar of their emotions, too, flowed deep and fierce toward a single target like a waterfall.
Asteril lifted her head and met Kallian’s gaze. In any case, he had stopped. Ivar had lost consciousness and seemed to have broken one limb, but his life had been spared, so that was a relief.
“The only man I would stake my life on is you.”
Her tongue was sly and treacherous. Like honey covering thorns, it was sweet only in the moment one heard it; once she achieved her purpose, she would change completely as though she had never said it.
Even so, the biggest problem was himself, for being delighted enough to fall for it. Well, fine. She, too, must know that he let it pass every time.
More importantly, the issue now was how to deal with the heat in his swollen veins.
In his mind, he pictured the flocks of Okeanos. A grassland as vast as a plain and the peaceful sight of sheep. Fragments of cloud drifting leisurely.
Useless. Only her naked body came to mind.
Thinking it better to imagine something repulsive instead, he pictured the court ladies of Lethe. Then, suddenly, the memory of the night Asteril had been attacked flashed through his mind.
Her wounded smile as she collapsed bleeding, then awoke with a pale face and smiled at him.
He remembered touching the dimple that had sunk into her cheek and kissing it. Her soft lower lip, her tender, moist tongue, the narrow, deep place at the back of her throat that released moans with breathless gasps when he sucked roughly…
She was right before his eyes, yet he could not touch her directly, and so his thirst only worsened. In any case, his true body, imprisoned in Tartarus, would have Ananke standing guard beside it.
This is madness.
Kallian pressed a hand to his forehead and gave up in despair. She must have seen it all already. Given his mother’s curiosity and personality, she might not merely have seen it, but might be staring fixedly and observing it outright.
“But why is your body like this?”
The moment he flinched and looked at her, her hand reached toward him.
“I thought it was strange earlier when we kissed too…”
Could changes in his true body be affecting his spirit body as well? Just as Kallian’s gaze dropped to his lower half, Asteril looked at her hand passing right through his body and wore an absurd expression.
“What happened?”
When she had pressed her lips to his, the cool sensation that touched her lower lip—that had not been his skin, nor his breath, but simply a passing breeze.
“Your body… I can’t grasp it. Tell me what on earth happened.”
Kallian looked up at the sky. The clouds Eos had chased away were moving again to cover the moon.
“To come see you, I left my true body in spirit form and borrowed the moon’s energy to manifest.”
A body transparent as mist. Movements swaying as if about to vanish at any moment, like smoke fluttering in the wind.
She had heard that when the god of eternal, deep sleep bestowed a kiss, the souls of the dead went below…
“Even in this state, I have more than enough power to protect you. And enough power as well to punish those who harm you.”
In any case, it meant he had not been released from Tartarus. His body was still imprisoned there. Well, if he could escape easily, it would not be called the prison of the Ketons.
Kallian had Hanpung bring Ivar over. Melinoe splashed water on the unconscious Ivar’s face.
He trembled, hugging his body with both arms. His lips had turned purple, as though his body temperature had plummeted.
“Lord Ivar, are you coming to your senses? Was it you who opened this jar?”
Asteril shook the snake-lidded jar she had brought from the cart before his eyes. Ivar’s hollow eyes widened with a flinch.
“You used this, didn’t you?”
Instead of answering, he nervously laced his fingers together and fidgeted. Asteril discovered a wound between the back of Ivar’s left hand and his thumb, then snatched his hand.
“You applied it here? Thinking it was an ointment?”
“Uuu… hic…”
He collapsed forward, sobbing. His mind had returned, but his rapidly depleted stamina, the sudden pain from his wound, and various emotions including guilt seemed to be surging up at once.
After smelling the snake-lidded jar, Asteril frowned. This smell… it’s similar to what I smelled at Triton’s palace.
Tyndareos’s secret room, engraved with rose patterns.
She remembered the cosmetic jar someone had left behind there. Come to think of it, the shape of the jar was similar too. At the time, the moment she smelled it, she had instinctively thought it was something she must not touch and quickly put it down.
If something similar exists here too… does that mean someone is distributing it systematically?
Just then, Hanpung approached and took the jar from her hand. Kallian, who had been studying the substance inside the jar intently, checked to see whether any ointment had gotten on her hand. Fortunately, it was clean.
“Do not go near it, my love. It contains something harmful.”
“What harmful thing? I was already trying to figure out what’s causing the stench in this ointment… but I’m not sure.”
“It is a kind of mass of germs.”
“A mass of germs? Like mold?”
Kallian sent a narrowed look toward the jar, as if to say it was similar enough.
At that moment, Melinoe snatched the jar, smelled it, and said,
“It’s ergot fungus.”
She even tasted a little of it, then wore a displeased expression.
“Lady Melinoe! If you eat that…”
“I’m fine. My body has been trained to some extent against poisons and narcotics.”
She continued with an explanation.
“Ergot fungus is a mold that grows on grain. If one eats bread in which ergot has spread, one suffers from auditory and visual hallucinations and behaves irrationally. If taken in excess, it can kill through difficulty breathing and the like, but in minute amounts, it drives sexual arousal and excitement to the extreme and causes addiction. I did not know it could take effect merely by being applied to the skin like this…”
She furrowed her brow, perhaps recalling unpleasant memories.
“So it contains hallucinogenic substances.”
Asteril muttered with a displeased expression. So Ibar had been taking drugs.
Kalian cast a glance toward Ibar. His pupils detected something, and he narrowed his eyes.
- There's one more impurity mixed in.
- An impurity?
- A drop of blood.
Asteril and Kalian, who had conversed through voice transmission, exchanged glances that took on an unusual look.
It was not a drop of Keton blood. It was human, yet somewhat strange. It carried an aura similar to the corrupted blood of the innkeepers sent to Lethe, yet it also exuded a supernatural power, like Asteril's own blood that possessed the force of nature.
- Could this be Nyx's doing?
- Perhaps.
It was still impossible to know. But Asteril and Kalian simultaneously intuited the fact that Nyx was involved in this matter, directly or indirectly.
Meanwhile, Melinoë stared at the ground, having overturned a jar. After brushing away the dirt, she felt the letters embossed on its surface by touch.
Pythia.
It was engraved in a conspicuous spot, as if there had been no intention of hiding it.
The priestess Pythia of Delphi was famous for inhaling sacred fumes through her nose and delivering oracles while in a trance. When it came to substances that caused hallucinations or auditory illusions, there was likely no place that could compare to Delphi.
Melinoë, who had been standing with a complicated expression, gazed at the back of Ibar's head as he lay motionless, face-down on the ground.
“So what shall we do with this fisherman?”
“We must treat him first. Ergot is a problem, but he was also shot by two arrows.”
“You certainly work fast.”
Asteril smiled faintly. Truly peculiar. She had known his mental fortitude was strong, but....
“The Great Elder is coming!”
Circe and her subordinates quickly lowered their stances, placing one knee on the ground. Leuce and Ischys were also seen kneeling and bowing their heads.
“We greet the Daughter of Earth and Fire!”
“We greet the Daughter of Earth and Fire!”
Through the narrow cliff passage, a stout, short old woman emerged, leaning on a crooked cane.
She was Mnemosyne, the Great Elder who had led the Hecate clan for several decades.
There were a few others called elders besides her, but Mnemosyne was the only one acknowledged as a venerable elder by the entire clan.
Her silver-white hair was tied up in one knot and neatly pinned with a pomegranate-shaped hairpin. On her wrist, revealed by rolled-up sleeves, she wore an antique-looking twisted gold bracelet. Though her attire was of a bygone fashion, the luxurious silk fabric was beautifully embroidered with dense patterns.
She raised her age-laden brows in a lofty arch and slowly surveyed her surroundings. Then, like a traveler discovering the horizon beyond the mist, she stopped, her sharp eyes flickering.
There stood a woman with ebony hair beautiful as the fabric woven by Eos, and skin that gleamed as if sculpted from milk.
Asteril looked on with a reddened face full of curiosity. Upon seeing her, Mnemosyne was rendered breathless, unable to continue speaking.
The hand gripping her cane trembled faintly. She slowly blinked her eyelids. She moistened her parched tongue and clenched her buttock muscles, plagued by bedsores, with all her might.
It was not a dream. The sensation of her damp, sack-like body was more vivid than ever.
Ah.
Mnemosyne let out a moan of bliss. The flame of a hearth long lost was blazing anew. It felt as though a soul lying buried in the earth was awakening.
She cleared her hoarse, parched vocal cords and called out a name steeped in longing.
“Could it be... Lady Phyra... Are you not Lady Phyra?”
Circe looked at her mother in shock.
“It is I, Lady Phyra... Mnemosyne. Do you recognize me?”
Asteril showed no reaction. Mnemosyne gazed at her with a wounded expression, and tears welled up thickly in her eyes.
“Have I grown too old? My body has become such that I cannot walk without leaning my limbs on this cane.”
Mnemosyne wiped the corners of her eyes with the back of her hand.
“Decades ago... I was the Mnemosyne of the Half-Moon Cave located at the entrance to the valley. Do you not remember? Back then, the villagers below the mountain considered my mother, who was a sorceress, an ill omen. They would beat her with clubs and threaten her whenever she caught their eye....”
That day was no different. At the time, eight-year-old Mnemosyne could only hide in the bushes and watch as her mother was caught by a group of hunters and kicked.
Not even realizing that tears were streaming into the gap between her lips, parted as she tried to hold back her sobs, the girl hugged her crouched knees tightly and held her breath. Just as her mother had told her never to come out, she trembled violently, barely holding back her cries.
Rustle.
Then, from somewhere, an ivory fabric brushed past the raspberry bushes. Red, curling locks of hair were seen swaying and touching the upper cord of a golden braided belt.
A hand with the back of it blackened by burns set down a red jar heavily on the ground. The lid of the jar, placed down with a clatter, opened slightly. A sour smell of fermented liquor wafted out. The furious woman strode toward the group of hunters.
What followed was a matter of moments.
The unidentified woman embraced the girl's mother protectively and lashed out at the armed band of hunters.
“For four men to beat a single woman into a pulp—how ugly and lamentable.”
The men seemed startled for a moment, then cackled with laughter. They rejoiced that there were now two toys to play with. They raised their clubs again. Some, excited, even loosened their belts.
The woman pressed her thumb and index finger together and made a sharp sound at her lips. At the loud whistle, the forest responded with a roaring gust of wind.
Grrrr.
From somewhere, the roar of a ferocious beast began to be heard.
The hunters, seeing the shadows appearing atop the cliff, wore expressions of utter panic. They pushed each other aside, threw down their clubs, and fled. Though she could not remember clearly, it seemed that gray wolves, having run down the precipice, had chased after them.
The hunters' screams were cut short in an instant. After that day, no one was ever seen who had spotted those scoundrels.
Sadly, her mother was already dead.
The woman who revealed her name to be Phyra helped move the mother's body to the cave. She even stayed for two whole days and held a funeral. After digging a pit behind the valley and making a grave, she held Mnemosyne tight in her arms.
“Since that day, I made a vow. To serve Lady Phyra for the rest of my life.”
Her toothless upper lip was wrinkled and curled inward, and her lower lip was turned outward and worn, causing her words to whistle like the sound of metal, yet each and every word of the old Great Elder flowed like a fierce river.
“Because Lady Phyra was no different from my own mother....”
Over the long years, her heart, built up like sediment, was as firm as the roots of a tree that had weathered storms.
“I believed that a day would come when I would see you again like this. I believed it. That you would surely return, that you had not abandoned me—I have never doubted it, not for a single moment. Only, at times, I was lonely like a dead tree fallen against a cliff.”
Asteril wore an expression of being unable to find words to say. She could not bring herself to open her mouth.
“Did you see the dozens of altars I made? Like this.... My nails have all been worn down. You always used to say so, didn't you? That Mnemosyne's carving skill is the best in the world. Ah, and you said my weaving was first-rate too? My fingerprints have worn away and my fingertips have grown blunt, but there is still no child within the clan who can match me. It has been a while since you last saw Circe, has it not? I suppose it was because she was so young, but she cannot remember Lady Phyra at all. Yet you worked so hard when she was born.... Oh, and I have a granddaughter now. Her name is Leuce. To think that I am already a grandmother, while Lady Phyra still looks so much like a maiden.... I cannot believe the passage of time. Truly, I cannot believe it....”
Mnemosyne leaned on her cane and lowered her head.
“Lady Phyra once said so. That any splendid flower will eventually wither and fall to the ground. But you told me not to grieve. It was only after surpassing sixty years that I came to understand those words. That human life, too, has birth, zenith, and end—that everyone lives longing for their most glorious days. The most radiant days of my life were the days I spent with Lady Phyra. Those were my happiest times.”
Her hunched back began to tremble slightly, like her muted voice.
“Stop it, Mother! That person is not Lady Phyra. She is not!”
Unable to bear it any longer, Circe rushed over and grabbed Mnemosyne's shoulders, shaking her.
“You said Lady Phyra had red hair like blazing flames. And that the last time you saw her was decades ago. Look, is she not a maiden of twenty-three or so now? Black hair and black eyes. She looks nothing like Lady Phyra. Please, stop it! Stop talking about maiden goddesses and all that!”
“Let go of me! It is you who should stop! Do you think I would fail to recognize Lady Phyra? Though I have grown old and my mind wavers, my memories of Lady Phyra are as clear as yesterday. Even if I were to go blind, I am confident I would recognize her. What do you think you are doing? There is a limit to rudeness. Do you mean to deny what your own two eyes see? Does she truly look like an ordinary human to you!”
When the Elder berated her fiercely with a glare, Circe flinched and released her arm.
A sense of sorrow welled up.
Her mother said she could recognize Lady Phyra even if she went blind. Then what about me? Could you recognize me like that, no matter how many years pass?
Unable to watch the two quarrel any longer, Asteril finally opened her mouth.
“Lady Mnemosyne?”
“Yes, Lady Phyra!”
“I am sorry, but you are mistaken. I am not Lady Phyra.”
At her words, Mnemosyne wore an expression as if struck by lightning.
“T-that cannot be.... My feelings cannot be wrong. Lady Phyra is capable of changing her outward appearance. Appearance is not what matters. The feeling of the earth trembling when Lady Phyra steps upon the soil, the movement of trees shaking their leaves to reach her hair, the cries of birds that fly gently to receive her caress, chirping like bells. I remember it all. I remember every single thing without omission.”
“But I am not Lady Phyra. My name is Asteril, and I am the princess of Demeter.”
Mnemosyne still wore an expression of disbelief. The conviction in her eyes clouded over, as if her very existence had been denied.
“Then what is that bracelet? Is it not the golden bracelet Lady Phyra always wore?”
Mnemosyne glared at and pointed to the twisted golden bracelet on Asteril's wrist.
“My name, Mnemosyne, means memory, does it not? Did not Lady Phyra say the same to me? 'Mnemosyne, your memory is as good as your name. I could never tell a lie before you.' Why.... Why are you lying to me?”
She had lived like a reflection on the water's surface, mirroring the landscape to the sky above. Would the gods ever look into the eyes of this humble being and return Lady Phyra to her?
“It is not a lie. This bracelet was not originally mine. However, Lady Mnemosyne, your guess is not entirely wrong either.”
Asteril glanced to the side and discovered Circe, who was staring blankly at the ground with a vacant face.
Her hand had fallen limply to the ground, clutching at emptiness with hollow eyes, as if she had exhausted all emotion.
And she saw the anxious expression on Leuce's face as she looked at Circe's back. As had been the case in Lethe, she held her lover Ischys's hand tightly, as if it were the only truth.
Suddenly, the face of the Matriarch flashed through her mind.
The great Anassa of Demeter, the mother who had raised three daughters splendidly.
What might the Matriarch be doing now? As always, would she be with her most favored eldest daughter, Kiane?
She was a woman whom she had called “Mother” aloud every time. Yet she had never once felt certain that she was her daughter. She had been anxious but could not show it. She had not even known whether disappointment in the Matriarch was an emotion a daughter was permitted to feel.
But only today did she realize that none of it had been a matter of bloodline.
Even bound by blood, one could still be a being who could not reach her mother's back. There were daughters abandoned immediately after birth. There were mothers who did not feel particularly glad to reunite with the daughter they had cast away. And there were daughters who longed for the mother who had left them for a lifetime, even without a drop of shared blood.
Though they, too, were someone’s mothers, they volunteered to be nothing but someone’s daughters.
That was why all the mothers in the world looked sorrowful. Even though the only ones who peered into their sorrow were their daughters.
Asteril smiled, somehow hollow yet relieved and wistful.
Her heart no longer felt like crushed flower petals. Nor did she think of the broken sapphire that had fallen from the Queen Mother’s headband.
She felt light, like the lyrics of the west wind that had whispered for her to be free.
Asteril took a step toward Mnemosyne.
There was Circe, looking at her back, and Leuke, looking at Circe’s back, but Mnemosyne would not make the effort to look back at them.
So she had to say it clearly. Because someone needed to bring freedom to them, too.
Asteril approached Mnemosyne, who was tapping her staff with an impatient face.
“Lady Pyrrha is… my mother.”
Her shocked eyes widened in surprise. And Asteril could see them shifting into an emotion that could not be described.
“So would you tell me in more detail?”
Asteril placed the three-faced icon of Kore, which Leuke had given her, on top of her hand.
“The other name of Pandora, who was Demeter’s greatest maiden goddess, and the goddess of the earth who cares for all life in this land…”
Callian, who had been listening while leaning against a tree, froze, his eyes widening.
“Gaia. Tell me about her.”