Kallian looked up at the sky once more. The large, round moon had already tilted far to the west. Eos, the goddess of dawn, was still smiling with the corners of her mouth curled up as if mocking him.
*Do you think you will be able to share love with Anteros tonight? Is the darkness of this night truly as deep and distant as your desire?*
Since time immemorial, the night has always been short for those in need of it.
Irritation flashed across his brows. He could not hide his displeasure at Psyche's attempt to kiss the top of his foot.
"Did you set fire to Asphodelos?"
Psyche looked up with a bewildered expression. As their eyes met, she felt murderous intent pierce her chest. It was a gaze that saw through everything.
Psyche averted her gaze, her lips turning pale. A chill ran down her sweat-cooled back.
What do I do?
Watching Psyche look down at the shadowed ground as if terrified, Kallian realized there was no need to wait for her answer. The woman before him would spew lies the moment she opened her mouth.
"I-I don't know anything about that."
Just as expected. Anger flashed like a whip. Kallian checked the back of his hand, where the blood of the Maenad he had just killed had splattered.
Psyche watched his action with a sense of foreboding.
Kallian lightly brushed his cleanly wiped hand and stared straight into Psyche's face.
"Lethe hates disturbances. And she despises lies even more."
Kallian speaking coldly with an expressionless face was so beautiful that it was despair-inducing.
He might be even more ruthless than Seart or the androgynous crow god he followed. Therefore, she must not harbor even a sliver of hope. She shouldn't, and yet...
His eyes, looking down at the world with boredom, were as desolate as cracked earth, inducing thirst just by looking at them.
How could she become a special existence to that dry, emotionless god? How ecstatic and joyful would it be if she could?
Kallian, completely uninterested in Psyche's vain delusions, spoke as if telling her to behave herself.
"Those who dare spew lies will have their tongues cut off and placed inside their own mouths. So that they may never open their mouths again until they chew and swallow it themselves..."
Leaning down, he grabbed Psyche's jaw. Psyche flinched and raised her hands. At that, a chilling wind wrapped around both of her wrists like handcuffs and tightened.
"S-stop..."
*Please stop.* Her chattering jaw couldn't even finish the words. She kept putting strength into her arms, but the pressure of the chilling wind was immense.
When dealing with Asteril, Kallian would even carefully press his lips that whispered sweet nothings, but right now, he was true to his innate harshness.
Psyche's cheeks, pressed by his hand, caved in and were crushed against her teeth painfully, and his middle finger pressing under her chin applied enough force to crush her jawbone at any moment.
Of course, even this should be considered lucky for her. Had it been his Ketos body, her jaw would have already been shattered to pieces.
"I will ask you one last time."
She felt it again—his voice was as distant and sweet as a feather brushing against her heart. If only it weren't for those transparent, indifferent eyes.
"Did you burn down Asphodelos?"
If she told the truth... she would probably die. Without changing his expression, he would crush her jaw like this, snap her neck, or pierce her chest and rip out her heart.
Kallian formed an urging gaze. A Ketos does not wait long for anything.
Psyche's eyes reddened with sorrow. There was no mockery or contempt. Nor was there any interest. It was the most terrifying reaction. The crow god of Nysa had at least found it amusing to watch her struggle and thrash about.
But this beautiful god simply seemed to want to confirm the truth and leave this place quickly. Whether she was dead or alive, she was a worthless existence to him.
The god of misfortune smiled at her. With both arms raised, he was grinning sinisterly, his mouth torn open like a fierce blaze.
"S-Seart told me to. By speaking to the flame in the large brazier..."
With a defeated face, Psyche confessed everything.
"The name of that sacred flame is Hestia. Go and call her name, then whisper this: 'Hestia, burn down Asphodelos.' There is no need to be so afraid. Hestia will obediently listen to any words spoken by a human."
Kallian stared into the empty air for a moment. It felt as if ice water had been poured into his lungs. It was as he had suspected, but hearing it made it even more absurd.
So it was Seart? He had been stirring up the muck under the shadow of Nyx, and now he was deluding himself into thinking the whole world was beneath his feet.
Hestia and Asphodelos were the legacies of Gaia, the greatest Ketos in history. For a mere child of Erebus, who was nothing at all let alone an Ojo, to defile her name was a sin so atrocious that even asking about it was preposterous.
He would have to preserve this woman's tongue for now. The Ojo and the other clans needed to hear her story as well. If only to clear up the misunderstanding regarding Asteril.
That didn't mean she wouldn't pay for her crimes. Asteril would surely reprimand him, but as a Ketos, even after taking her as Anteros, he still found it hard to understand her deep compassion and altruism. Not understanding it made him love her more, but still...
He fundamentally loathed such things. Vile souls that had fallen into the abyss of desire and swelled into grotesque proportions.
Above all, an extreme rage arose from the fact that they had harmed his precious heart. Those who committed such insolent acts usually died without even knowing the reason until their very last moment. That was why it was even more terrifying.
However, a Ketos did not care about the minute emotions of such ignorant wretches. Moreover, Kallian was the type who didn't even bother to look into what he had killed.
Still, whatever he decided to kill, he crushed thoroughly. It was a Ketos's instinct. In destruction, hesitation was absent, and showing no mercy was a virtue.
Swoosh.
It felt as if a blade had sliced right before her eyes. Psyche froze like ice and stared blankly into the air. She saw her pride—her bright blonde hair—severed in chunks and fluttering down.
A drop of blood formed at the tip of the blade Kallian held in his hand. Unless her eyes were deceiving her, that was the filthy sword that had just sliced through the Maenad that was flailing about like a lizard.
"Ah..."
Psyche clutched her face, which felt hot. Her right cheek and the bridge of her nose burned as if on fire.
She lowered her trembling hand and checked her palm. It was soaked in crimson blood.
"Kyaaaah!"
She screamed, clutching her face.
*My face! My face...*
Looking at Psyche screaming in terror, Kallian tilted his head slightly and lowered his voice.
"I had forgotten for a moment because of Asphodelos... Why did you call me Nyx?"
Psyche slumped to the ground and looked up at Kallian, covering her face with both hands.
"I asked why you mistook me for Nyx."
Was it a trait of humans? Making him ask everything twice. If it was to provoke his anger, it was quite an excellent strategy... but he wondered what benefit this woman could possibly gain from acting like that. There was none. Unless she wanted someone to kill her right at that moment.
Psyche looked down at the blood dripping onto the dirt and fell into confusion. Her mind became as distant as a rotting well.
A mistake? Even the highest god of Mount Nysa asked. Asking whether she was looking for the Nyx of the day or the Nyx of the night...
The expression of the crow god, who had been displeased and asked if she had come looking for the Nyx of the night as well, suddenly came to mind. She held her breath like a child looking outside a cradle for the first time. Why was she only realizing this now?
The master of Mount Nysa... Mount Nysa, Nyx.
Psyche raised her head with an indignant face. She desperately tried to speak. *I didn't know, I really didn't know.*
But the god neither looked nor listened. He was simply spinning the sword that had cut her in his hand, narrowing his brows.
It was a gaze contemplating whether to kill her or not.
It was similar to the murderous intent she often felt from Seart, who used to glare at her from the altar of Nysa. The irritation and regret of wanting to kill but being unable to.
Tears poured out. The god she had so admired...
"You hate me."
So this was how dreadful it felt to be despised by the one she admired. Did the countless men who worshipped her also feel their hearts crushed like eggs?
Kallian turned away as if he didn't even want to hear her sobbing. He saw the shadow cast by his bowed head. It was the bushes where she had been crouching.
She had been an annoying woman ever since she hid in the gloom and peeped this way. As long as she could open her mouth to speak, that was enough. What did it matter what happened to the rest of her organs or body parts?
There was no need to delay. He drove the blade toward the eyes that were weeping with grievance.
"Kallian!"
Just then, Anteros called his name from afar, gasping for breath.
The sword slicing through the air came to an abrupt halt.
Kallian stared blankly at the tip of the sword that had been aimed at Psyche's eyes. His gaze settled quietly. A lucky woman. Had she always survived by receiving the favor of fate like this?
Turning his head, Asteril was approaching with a sharp gaze.
Psyche, frozen like a stone statue, felt her ears ring. A petite black-haired woman was holding the god's hand, nagging him gently.
The god, who had been staring down at her, leaned down and abruptly pressed his lips against hers.
Psyche's expression distorted.
Even as the woman pushed his shoulders, gasping for breath, he held her jaw tight and rubbed his lips against hers like a starving man. His figure, licking and swallowing the lips of his lover who was exhaling ragged breaths, was none other than the god of lust and desire.
She didn't want to believe it. He was the god who remained expressionless even when looking at her, who was praised as the jewel of Side. He was one who hadn't even spared a glance at her body.
Then why... why was he so fiercely swallowing that woman's lips?
Psyche, watching the two with bloodshot eyes, felt her breathing grow rapid as if she couldn't breathe. It was a panic attack.
Clutching her chest, she rolled her eyes back with a "Ugh!"
With a thud, she felt an impact on the back of her head. Lying on the ground looking up at the sky, Psyche saw a woman with a wrinkled face approaching in her fading vision. The nurse crouching beside her whispered in a sorrowful voice.
*What did I tell you, my lady. I told you that you mustn't let them discover the youth and beauty you possess. They approach like a temptation and suck away your youth in an instant, you see? They will peel off your clinging arms and leave you on the shadowed ground like a chicken with its neck wrung. You will be trapped in a darkness as vile as the soil of a grave. My poor lady. Now we will truly never be able to meet again...*
Ψ
Eos's mockery had become reality.
The night was not long, and his lover vanished like a nymph of the forest, leaving behind only a brief kiss.
Kallian glared at the narrow gap in the cliffs at the entrance to Hecate's hideout. The moon, once the size of a fist, had drifted to the far reaches of the sky and now looked smaller than a grape.
No matter how outstanding a Ketos was, they couldn't hold onto time. In truth, he didn't feel the need to. There would be no Ketos who obsessed over the flow of time.
Why did Gaia hide all her legacies in the divine realm of Cronus? Did it have something to do with Cronus?
Cronus, who was said to have hidden his traces long ago, was a being whose true form even the Ketos did not know. His divine realm had already fallen into ruins, overgrown with weeds, and he was an existence from such a distant antiquity that it was difficult to find even a trace of him in the memories of the Ketos.
The fact that the Ketos did not suffer the cruelty of time as immortal beings could only be regarded as the will of the Father God or the favor of Cronus, the god of time, like the legends told by the Sibylla.
The body temperature of the unconscious Psyche dropped rapidly.
Her limbs dangling limply like a child who had fallen into the water, she was carried to the hideout by the men of Hecate's clan who had followed behind. Aris, watching the scene, wore a displeased expression.
Mnemosyne brought women with medical knowledge to disinfect and suture Psyche's wound. After that, she applied an ointment that could be called the Hecate clan's elixir, and pushed a decoction between her lips for her to swallow.
To aid her recovery, Asteril placed her hand on Psyche's chest and gathered her qi. The women Mnemosyne had sent had already disappeared outside the recovery room.
"I know you're awake."
Psyche, who had quietly opened her eyes into thin slits, flinched. Asteril was staring down at her.
"Semele.... Right?"
Psyche silently glared at Asteril.
"Though your attire is shabby, it cannot hide your radiant beauty."
"...."
"Your eyes have changed. You seem to have many stories. Am I perhaps involved in any of them?"
This place was a dugout. A low, narrow underground hideout where one had to duck to enter.
In the center of the dark, dim room, a small brazier was burning. In the weak firelight, blind spiders crawled along the walls before hiding within Asteril's shadow.
"Lady Semele."
Psyche, opening her mouth to answer, let out a dry cough. Her throat was parched. Could a spider have crawled into her mouth while she was unconscious? She got goosebumps. It really might have.
"The wind asks me."
A breeze brushed over the lying Psyche's head. That couldn't be. This was underground. There was no wind.
*Swoooosh.*
The branches bowing to the wind sang with a refreshing tone. That couldn't be. There were no trees here. No wind, either. The voice of a god does not reach here. There are no gods. It was just an auditory hallucination.
Asteril's gaze looking down at Psyche was solemn. Psyche muttered under her breath, asking what she meant.
"I am asking why the daughter of the dead Chief Senator is wandering this place."
"...."
"As you may know, the eyes, ears, and mouths of humans never only see, hear, and speak the truth. Rather, they only see, hear, and speak what they need. So, Lady Psyche, you don't need to tell me the truth. You only need to tell me what I need."
Asteril wore a soft smile around her lips.
Psyche's lips twitched. She knew that expression well. It was the smile gods wore when coaxing humans. No. It was the smile they wore when coercing them.
The smile gradually faded from Asteril's affectionate eyes. Her black pupils were deep and cold. Only then did Psyche realize. That she was not well-disposed toward her.
"Whether it's truth or falsehood, please mix them well and answer me. I prefer wisdom over the truth."
She knew what she had done. She could even recite her sins one by one. Hades, Seat, the Hearth of the Gods, Hestia, Asphodelos, the soaring flames....
Was she weighing what punishment to inflict? Ridiculous. Acting like a god when she wasn't one.
"It's all because of you."
"...."
"The moment you went to Hades instead of me, everything changed. My life was stolen by you. I was supposed to go to Hades as Persephone. So what truth are you asking me to tell? The truth is all inside your mouth."
Asteril half-lowered her gaze. Her pupils, flickering with momentary agitation, gradually sank heavily. Like Psyche's soul struggling in a swamp.
"If you had gone to Hades, you would have died the day you arrived. The King of Hades would have squeezed your blood to feed the Asphodelos and mercilessly beheaded you."
"What?"
"You shouldn't be unaware that my status is higher than yours, the daughter of the Chief Senator. If so, is the reason you're so indignant right now because of the King of Hades? Even if you had become Persephone and met him, the way he looked at you wouldn't have been much different from how he looks at you now."
Her eyes whispered in rebuke. Don't be stubborn. You can't receive a god's love. You're too ordinary for that. No, hideous. Look at your face, it's hideous.
"Aaaagh!"
Psyche trembled and tore at her hair. Startled, Asteril grabbed Psyche's shoulders and leaned her body back.
"My face! Give me back my face! Aagh! I said give it back..."
"Calm down! Your face will get better. It will get better. Now, shh. Calm your excitement and close your eyes."
Her eyelids closed at the soft touch. A soft brushstroke touched her cheek. The scent of the red dye touching her lips was sour.
Asteril held out a bronze mirror in front of Psyche's face. Now, hurry and open your eyes and look into this mirror.
Psyche opened her fear-drenched eyelids. Seeing her reflection in the mirror, she gasped.
"This is.... How did this happen?"
She marveled, sweeping her forehead and cheeks with her hands. Her porcelain-smooth skin was pale but beautiful. It was just like her appearance in her youth when she was called the Jewel of Side. No, she looked even more beautiful and noble than that.
"Did you put makeup on me?"
They say she's the incarnation of Gaia, and she really does have a useful ability, huh? It's completely flawless. Don't tell me she goes around dressing herself up with this kind of magical ability? Though she looks too plain for that to be the case.
Glancing sideways at Asteril's face, Psyche looked back into the mirror with satisfaction.
"Doing it like this makes it presentable. No blemishes either..."
A short while later, Asteril came out holding organized bandages and herbs. She looked back with a complicated expression.
From inside the room, Psyche, now in a better mood, was humming. The sound of her chuckling mixed in.
Between the fingernails of Psyche, who was combing her hair with her hands, dark dirt and sand were wedged.
Asteril hurried out of the dugout. Outside the hideout, thick darkness had settled, and it was quiet as if even the chirping insects had fallen asleep.
Looking into the water jar placed outside, she raised her head in surprise.
Had it already gotten this late? Tilting her head back, she saw the moon had moved far to the west.
Psyche's wounds were not as deep as she had thought. If Kalian had intended to inflict a fatal wound given his personality, it wouldn't have ended at just that.
Asteril looked at the entrance of the narrow cliff path with a dark expression.
He was standing with his body leaned against the high rock. Even though he gave off a lot of Rian's vibe, his appearance and aura were still exactly that of the King of Hades.
Deep, dark, low, and quiet... My male god.
The two remained silent, casting their gazes at each other. Psyche's emergence left a stifled and murky vision, like a riddle thrown by chaos.
"It was Semele."
It was an expression asking who that was. But soon, as if having deduced it, he furrowed his brow.
On the way to the hideout, Aris clicked his tongue and informed Asteril of what Psyche had done.
Saying she was a wench who deserved to die, but since she was the true culprit who burned the Asphodelos, Rian would have had no choice but to spare her.
"What are you going to do?"
There was no answer. His eyes staring this way were quiet.
"Her recovery was fast. Though a faint scar remains on her face, it will disappear soon. The problem is that she says strange things like someone broken somewhere.... From the middle onward, we couldn't even hold a conversation. Or maybe it was like that from the start."
Asteril raised her hand and stared at the ointment on her fingers. There was no white powder or red dye for lips smeared on them. Nor had she brought a bronze mirror or a makeup brush.
"It's probably because of the painkillers. She must be seeing and hearing things. She has a bit of a fever, too."
She wore an awkward smile as if wanting to assert so. Yes, that must be it. She was just briefly delirious from the fever, seeing things and spouting nonsense.
"Come closer."
Kalian, who had been listening silently, spoke. Asteril took a step forward, wearing sandals made of thin leather straps. The gold anklets adorning her ankles jingled as she moved.
"Closer."
His voice echoed refreshingly through the shade.
"I can no longer clearly hear your voice speaking from such a distance."
A lie. Though a clay doll, his physique was superior to a human's. Making an excuse brazenly while maintaining a shameless expression, he reached out and beckoned.
It meant he wanted to stop talking about Psyche. It meant he wanted to solely feel his lover by his side.
It was an arrogant attitude. However, when he looked at her with eyes that seemed to pierce her soul, she couldn't possibly refuse.
As Asteril walked closer, Kalian wrapped his arm around her waist as if snatching her. He whispered, leaning in close enough for his breath to reach her ear.
"I have waited only for this moment."
"Why?"
"Because I wanted to hold you."
Asteril burst into laughter. It was a sound like the first dew of dawn dropping onto the earth and bursting into beads.
As if embracing the only tree in the world, she stood on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck.
"Me too."
She walked ahead, as if she were the master of the forest.
Taking Kalian's hand, she led him toward the sound of an owl hooting. He leisurely followed behind, pretending not to know.
Old trees leaned against each other as if laying their bodies together, forming an arched path. Passing through the cave-like path, a lake appeared, its surface rippling silver in the moonlight.
Around the cozy lakeside, white and yellow wildflowers were in full bloom. On the hill above the slope, evening primroses were scattered in abundance.
The beastly Maenads hated evening primroses. Thanks to that, this cozy place, like a goddess's garden, was safe from their roars and stench.
Across the lakeside, a cabin built by the Hecate clan for sentry duty awaited them.
Kalian wondered how she knew of such a place, but Asteril flashed an enigmatic smile and guided him inside.
Her red lips looked even more sensual than usual. Kalian suppressed the urge to kiss them, took off the claris draped over his shoulders, and stepped inside wearing only his tunic.
Candles, lit in advance by the square window and the fireplace, warmly illuminated the floor. On the bed, which was covered with cowhide and a soft linen sheet, red petals were scattered as if embroidered.
Kalian soon wore a look of doubt. Ketons usually used marble beds. This was because beds made of wooden frames couldn't withstand their strength.
The beds used by humans were made by wrapping leather straps around wooden frames, with a psiatos made of rush or reeds laid on the bottom. Just looking at it, it seemed to creak.
"It won't break."
Asteril said, as if reading his mind.
"I think we'll have to test that."
Kalian approached as he said that and casually untied her clothes, letting them slip to her feet. Now naked, Asteril covered her chest and lower half and buried herself in his embrace. His hand grabbed and released her long hair cascading down her back.
He bent his waist and kissed her white shoulder. A sweet scent emanated from the skin touching his lips.
"Are you a goddess prepared by chaos for me?"
"Well, I don't know if I'm the daughter of a goddess."
"Gaia is certainly a great Keton, but she couldn't sway me."
"Then I suppose you're drawn to human capriciousness. Kalian of Judgment, the Keton of Ketons."
He raised his head and looked at her. She was smiling like the master of a radiant morning. It was a smile that knew he would eventually kneel before her. Judging by her cunning alone, she was fully worthy of being called a goddess.
"My male god.... Do you worship me?"
"Gladly."
"Even more than the five greatest Ketons of your race?"
"I respect them, but I do not worship them. Only you."
"About what?"
"The only one I cannot take my eyes off of like this."
"Then don't take them off."
Forever, until my body turns to ash and disappears wandering the underworld.
The bed the two climbed onto creaked, as expected. The squeaking noise every time he moved mixed with her moans, strangely heightening the arousal.
As the bed shook rapidly, the chaff fell like ash and piled up thickly on the floor.
His body entered as if biting her waist and moved so fiercely that it felt like every joint in her spine would come apart. Her white, smooth legs were lifted high vertically, and twisting the angle, he thrust himself deeply as if searching for the root.
A voice, whose moan it was unknown, flowed out in excitement. Her limbs shook helplessly against the rattling body. Asteril went completely limp, her head thrown back as if she had fainted.
Kalian gripped her hips so tightly his knuckles turned white. A shiver ran through his entire body. A pleasure piercing his spinal cord. An indescribable sense of liberation made his closed eyes tremble.
He raised his head, looked at the ceiling, and let out rough breaths. A low moan, seemingly echoing in a cave from deep within his vocal cords, flowed out with satisfaction.
Asteril was trembling in convulsions, overwhelmed by the ceaseless sensations pouring into her unconscious body. Callian pulled her into his arms with one arm. Their skin slid and collided, slick with each other's sweat.
Holding her from the side, he thrust himself deeply into her once more. Then, as if leaving a lingering trace, he ejaculated again.
"Ugh..."
As if desperately clinging to the fraying threads of his reason, he pulled her waist tightly against him and buried his face in her neck. His seed spilled out with a squelch.
It felt as though his brain was melting. He had never reached so deep inside her, never pounded into her so fiercely.
"Ril..."
My heart, my breath, the lover of my lips, and the sovereign of my soul.
He traced her unconscious lips, admiring them, before surrendering to the surging affection and pressing his own lips against hers.
What began as a sacred scene, like a kiss between two statues, soon morphed into a manifestation of lust, as if one were devouring the other.
Kneading Asteril's round breasts, Callian draped one of her legs over his thigh, spread her open, and thrust his index finger into her exposed flesh.
He added two more fingers, rubbing against her inner walls as if scraping them. His hand slipped out of her slick flesh, which had begun to gush whitish fluids with a lewd squelch.
He brought his wet hand to his lips and tasted it. The musky scent made him feel as if his senses were paralyzed.
Lying on his side, he rubbed his erect desire against her wet, parted entrance. Slick with each other's fluids, they grinded together until they naturally swallowed each other up.
His entire body was drenched in sweat. Unlike when he was in his Ketos form, his breathing grew ragged. The damp scent of their union, a mix of their bodily fluids and musk, hung heavily in the air.
The sensations of his body, running wild with uncontrollable lust, whipped his mind back and forth like lightning. Binding her in his arms, Callian thrust his hips into her frantically.
Bending his waist and grinding his groin against her to push even deeper.
With a squelching sound, fluids splashed. His member, reaching its deepest limit, was sucked into the slick, squelching depths.
As if parched by an insatiable desire, he pounded into her, driven mad by the wet slapping sounds. It felt as though his sanity was slipping away. Never before had he felt so overwhelmingly impulsive.
He finally understood why humans so easily lost their minds. Unlike the dark and sinister madness of the Ketos, this madness was a blinding flood of light that stripped away all reason.
The pleasure of a cascading frenzy filling his vision.
The primordial darkness, detonated by chaos, roared and swallowed his entire being.
"Ha... ugh..."
With a groan he could no longer suppress, his mind went completely blank. Their joined bodies sank heavily onto the bed like wet cotton.
Suddenly, words Asteril had once spoken crossed his mind.
After they had made love several times, she had nestled against him, her body glistening, and whispered with her cheek pressed to his chest.
"The sky just before dawn is impossible to look away from. Perhaps it's because I know it will vanish soon? Even knowing, one cannot help but marvel... It's that kind of view."
Her feelings, which he hadn't empathized with at the time, seemed to reflect in his deeply blue-tinted vision. It was an indescribable sense of tenderness.
Like the first flutter of a wet butterfly's wings, a delicate emotion rippled from his heart as a faint vibration, spreading throughout his body.
Breathing softly, Callian held the sleeping Asteril in his arms and closed his eyes once more.
For the first time in his life, he felt languor. The heavy sensation of her body pressing against his chest and abdomen, too.
It felt pleasant. He decided to keep his eyes closed like this for just a little while longer.
Ψ
The forest, densely packed with oak trees, was filled with a terrified murmuring.
Above the lakeside near the cabin, the Breath of the Snowfield—a sight never before seen—hovered, repeatedly freezing and thawing the water's surface, while atop the highest oak branch, the sparrow-sized Breath of the Northern Sky lay sprawling, keeping a sharp, sidelong eye on the surroundings.
Inside the cabin, toppled candles rolled about, and crushed flower petals were scattered everywhere. On the bed, the bare legs of a man and a woman could be seen resting in a comfortable tangle.
Callian, awake first, lay on his side, lost in thought.
Beneath the shadow cast by his aloof eyes and striking nose, the contours of his face—defined by his tightly pressed lips—were as perfect as a statue of an ascetic deity.
An unshakable coldness lingered at the edges of his long, sweeping gaze. The glance he cast out the square window was sharper than the biting winter wind of the mortal realm. The startled trees gathered their leaves, averting their gaze lest they meet his eyes.
He gently traced the cleavage and nipples of the still-sleeping Asteril. From top to bottom, then bottom to top. He pressed into the supple flesh, his gaze lingering on the sensation beneath his fingertips.
Then, slowly trailing down between her thighs, he glided his fingertips over her swollen, chafed flesh, checking for any wounds.
As Asteril frowned in her sleep and twisted her body, he paused to look down at her. Leaning in, he planted a loud, smacking kiss on her lips.
"Awaken, my beloved."
His exhausted lover's cheeks were still flushed red.
"The sun is shining upon the entire forest."
Even as the sunlight stung her cheeks like arrows, Asteril whined snuggly and burrowed deeper into his embrace. She couldn't even count how many times she had climaxed. It felt as though she had dreamed a long, long dream. In the end, she fell fast asleep again.
Callian's expression, which had been slowly admiring Asteril, suddenly hardened. He pulled her close as if to protect her, then shot a frigid glare out the window.
He could sense the breath of his kin. They were drawing near. Crossing the lake, heading this way.
Killing intent and hostility were aimed this way like arrowheads. A piercing gaze stood just outside the cabin.
As Hanpung perched on the windowsill, Callian sent him a look, commanding him to protect Asteril. Hanpung nodded, and Bukpung had also fluttered in close behind him.
Stepping out the cabin door, Callian fixed his gaze on the shadow standing atop the fallen leaves.
A lanky frame with a supple waist, light brown hair, and a face bearing a militant impression.
A male Ketos with the body of a boy yet a face as insolent as a mature adult—Seart.
"What is that bizarre body?"
Seart wore an expression brimming with curiosity, like a dolphin poking its head above the water for the first time.
Callian said nothing. He was merely contemplating how to dispose of this pitiful, irritating soul—young, foolish, and having forgotten its place and duty.
"Is Callian the Judge, son of Uranos and Ananke, unable to even grant an answer to this lowly one?"
"It is truly satisfying to see you comprehend so well even without an answer."
Seart's face contorted. He truly was an arrogant bastard, just as Lady Nyx had said. For all that, there was barely any difference in the time of their birth.
"I came to find a woman. A human."
"Why ask me that?"
"I smelled its blood beneath the cliff where the altar is. Along with the blood of our other females."
A flicker of annoyance flashed in Callian's eyes. His look seemed to ask, *So what?*
Seart clenched his teeth. He had heard the rumors, but his presence was truly venomous. Even the pale nymphs dwelling in the damp depths of the sea couldn't chill their surroundings like this.
"Was it your doing that killed the Maenads before?"
"Seart."
Callian called his name in a displeased voice. He wore a scowl, as if he couldn't bear to look at such pathetic wretchedness.
Ketos, with their fierce egos, never listened to the words of others. Even before the Five Seats, they would accept punishment, but never admonishment.
The children of Erebus were born that way. Therefore, they generally preferred to avoid interfering with one another and refrained from offering counsel.
"Did Nyx not teach you? What happens when you do not kneel before the Five Seats?"
The surrounding air shifted in an instant. The bushes froze as they shrank back, as if in the harsh winter of the mortal realm. With a single twisted glare from Callian, the surrounding trees groaned.
Seart was rendered speechless. Only then did he realize he had crossed the line. But he couldn't beg for forgiveness now. His pride wouldn't allow it.
What was so great about Callian anyway? He was the chieftain's son who became a Five Seat by winning the favor of the Five Seats. Aside from his bloodline, wasn't there nothing else to see?
"Is it humiliating to bow your head to me?"
Seart touched his own neck. The final moments of his comrades, whose heads had been severed by Callian, suddenly came to mind. He didn't even realize he kept licking his lips. Just like the pale women he had forced to kneel before the altar.
"Your comrades were the same. So I made it so they no longer needed to bow their heads, and they wailed in utter humiliation."
"..."
"How about it? Would you like to pick a branch of appropriate height for yourself? A passing wild beast batting your severed head around with its paws would be quite a shameful experience, so I advise you to choose carefully."
At that moment, Hanpung brought something in its mouth. It was a sword, heavily rusted, likely picked up from some swamp it had crashed into.
"But if it's too high, you might become prey to the eagles. It might help to recall from which height the ambrosia bloomed the largest and most bountiful."
Seart's face turned red. Callian calmly stroked the hilt of the sword in his hand and asked.
"Was it your doing to burn the Asphodelos?"
"I am not sure what you are talking about..."
A polite honorific slipped out before he realized it. Seart clamped his jaw shut. Those red-purple eyes seemed to pierce into his skull and stir his brain.
"I asked if it was your doing to burn the Asphodelos using a human. As a Ketos, do not make me ask twice."
Seart flinched. Blood oozed from his lower lip. He had bitten it unconsciously.
"Let us stop wasting each other's time."
"Did that woman blabber?"
"Isn't it you who blabbered? The great affairs of our kin to a mere mortal."
Seart's face flushed red and blue. Stomping his feet, he vented his rage, seemingly forgetting Callian's presence right in front of him.
"Damn wench! She betrayed us and spilled everything after all. I knew it! Ungrateful bitch!"
Ketos were inherently creatures that knew nothing of self-restraint, but they strictly adhered to the law of the jungle.
Even within the same kin, the strong received proper treatment and respect. Stubbornness and bravado were mere displays of reckless courage reserved for lowly, weak humans.
As Ketos loathed unnecessary, consumptive actions, once they gauged their opponent's capabilities, they would immediately conclude the situation by either subjugating them or showing respect.
"Did you roll under Nyx for so long that you've even lost the instinct Erebus carved into you...?"
Or did drinking human blood make him emotional like a human? Callian became genuinely curious. How could a Ketos be so pathetic?
The young Ketos of Nysa, drunk on the reverence of humans, saw their arrogance pierce the heavens, never given the chance to properly learn why the Five Seats held their positions. To them, the only adult Ketos was Nyx—who ironically was the only one among the adults of the kin who had not reached maturity.
As a result, they did not truly understand what fear or terror was. Even if such a moment arrived, they would only thrash about, refusing to acknowledge their opponent's superiority.
Seart's current appearance was exactly that.
The forest, having lived for thousands of years, held its breath as it watched the standoff between the two.
Though maintaining an elegant composure, the Master of the Atmosphere was clearly enraged. Understoodly so. That young Ketos was spouting insolence without knowing his place. The forest hoped he would finally beg for mercy and bow, yet Seart twisted his lips and provoked him once more.
"What's that in your hand when you're so grandly called the Master of Asphodelos? Does a Ketos carry weapons like a human? Are you not ashamed, Callian? Ah... or should I say 'human' now? No matter how I look at it, that body seems identical to that of a mortal. Did you use some trick to escape from Tartarus?"
Callian stared at him in silence. Until a moment ago, a trace of disillusionment had lingered in his eyes, but now, even that was gone.
Seeing that, Seateu grew anxious. Unlike Nix, whose emotions fluctuated severely and was capricious, Kallian had always been as tranquil as a windless lake. But right now, his entire body radiated intense displeasure.
That was the terrifying part. Even though he had done nothing, a killing intent fierce enough to sting the skin enveloped the area. He had yet to begin anything.
Kallian brought the sword in his hand to his mouth. His pursed rose-colored lips parted, and he breathed onto the blade.
Warm breath covered the sword like powdered salt. The chipped and rusted blade flashed instantly, as if newly forged and whetted.
Seateu's dilated pupils froze. As Kallian lowered his sword and stared this way, his irises were a deeper, darker crimson than before. It meant he had unleashed the power of Erebus.
He didn't know the details, but Kallian had done something to that old sword. A suffocating pressure pressed down on him. Instinct warned him not to touch that blade.
Run, run, run. As fast as possible, as far away as possible; even if your legs are severed, crawl away.
Erebus whispered. The surrounding trees pushed at his back. Even so, Seateu bit his lip and desperately tried to ignore it.
Regardless, his opponent Kallian was currently in a human-like state. If his joints were twisted, they would break; if his bones were crushed, they would turn to dust. In terms of brute strength, there was no comparison—this side had the advantage.
Glancing around, Hanpung, who always clung to Kallian like a shadow, was nowhere to be seen.
Seateu, who had been waiting for an opportunity, kicked off the fallen leaves and charged. His opponent was Kallian, rumored to possess strength surpassing even the current Fifth Seat. He was a monster capable of facing multiple Ketons alone and stringing their heads up for display.
This might be a golden opportunity. For the sake of Lord Nix, disposing of him right here and now would be the right choice.
Kallian did not budge. The mock confrontations he had practiced countless times with Ananke over the past few days at the Honglu flashed through his mind.
Most of the clan believed that Ananke, with her outstanding mental prowess, would lack in combat skill, but that was ignorant talk.
Ananke possessed exceptional skill in psychological warfare, but simply never had the opportunity to demonstrate it to the clan. Both Uranus and Pontus always named Ananke as the most troublesome opponent to battle.
Kallian was someone who formulated strategies against such an Ananke, and had sparred countless times with his father Uranus, who was also called the God of War.
The movements of a juvenile Keton that hadn't even reached maturity were nothing more than a simple exercise, akin to cutting falling leaves.
Kallian waited until Seateu, who had leapt into the air, was right in front of his face. The moment Seateu swung his hands like weapons with an ecstatic expression, Kallian lifted his downcast eyelids.
His hand, reflected in Seateu's pupils, moved like a whip. It was unimaginable strength and speed. As Seateu's lips parted in shock, he simultaneously saw his own left arm thud to the ground.
“Ugh, keugh...”
Rolling on the ground, Seateu writhed and let out agonized groans. His arms were bouncing and rolling on the dirt like a log cut in half.
Stunned, Seateu gaped with a pale, blanched face. He could feel blood spurting from the shoulders where his arms had been severed.
His nerve clusters let out horrific screams. Seateu, who tried to force his body up by putting strength into his legs and arching his back like a bow, shrieked, “Aaaargh!” just like the women whose necks he used to snap. He shuddered violently, his eyes rolling back.
He saw Kallian standing with his back to the sun, looking down indifferently with a sword in one hand. In his other hand was Seateu's severed tongue. Kallian furrowed his brow, examined the severed tongue, then tossed it to the ground as if in disgust.
Seateu whimpered. He tried to flick his tongue using his cheek muscles with his lips rounded, but only the gruesome cross-section of his mutilated tongue was exposed. Fresh blood painted his screaming mouth.
“U, uueo...”
How, how on earth...
“Are you asking how this is possible?”
Bored eyes asked in return as he leaned forward slightly.
“Why do you think Nix of Harmony fought so desperately to avoid battling me? Of course, if you had the capacity to deduce the answer, this situation would never have occurred... It is truly regrettable.”
Lies. That's not the face of someone feeling regret. The look of sorrow was so devoid of sincerity that it was hard to even call it an act.
“More importantly, my mother Ananke recently shared some highly intriguing information. Would you care to hear it?”
Seateu held his breath. Kallian's face, his long, slanted eyes narrowed even further, sent chills down his spine. That ominous appearance, capable of making even his own clan's hearts pound, was the spitting image of his mother, Ananke. The most wicked and sinister woman among the Five Seats.
“She told me that if you sever both ears and pierce a hole straight through the center of the indented temples like this, not even a Keton can produce Qingyin.”
Before he knew it, Kallian had bent his knee and leaned in close to Seateu's ear.
“I've been eager to verify whether this is true or not... I couldn't be more delighted that you'll personally demonstrate it for me.”
Seateu glanced sideways at Kallian's hand caressing his temple, his expression twisted in horror.
Madman... What is he saying? Stop me from using Qingyin? With his tongue severed, Seateu thrashed in rage, muffled groans escaping as Kallian gripped his hair.
*Swish.*
Hanpung, who had flown in unnoticed, flattened its body and moved faster than an arrowhead. Seateu's eyes widened in a jolt, his head still wrenched back by his hair.
A stream of blood flowed down his sideburns and dripped. Seateu's eyes rolled back as he convulsed. His vision, as he collapsed backward, was flooded with black shadows. The owner of those indifferent, looking-down eyes seemed to be waiting for the outcome.
Seateu twisted his shoulder to reach out. His arms were gone. He opened his mouth to beg him to stop, whatever he was doing. He couldn't speak.
Stop!
Kallian finally sliced off Seateu's ears. Now, his eardrums could hear nothing but the buzzing of insect wings, as if inside the womb of Erebus.
Aaaagh!
It felt like being trapped in an invisible barrel. Seateu heaved his armless shoulders. He felt like he was losing his mind.
“You are fortunate, Seateu. Had it been the hour of Eos, this would not have been the end of it.”
The moon is the mirror of judgment. It was the time when his abilities could unfold like butterfly wings and bloom to their fullest.
When the Goddess of Dawn turns away and lets down her long, beautiful hair, those tough, black, twisted strands could be fashioned into nooses to carry out a true execution.
“It is a shame I could not test that out.”
He couldn't hear the sound, but he could roughly understand through the shape of his lips. Seateu fumed, his face flushed red.
What? What the hell have you been trying to test since earlier! I'll kill you, Kallian! I won't let this slide, never... Lord Nix will save me and take my revenge! Lord Nix will tear off your limbs and sever your tongue and ears just as you did to me, Kalliaaan!
He wanted to scream like that, but only the abject whine of a beast struggling somewhere in his throat leaked out.
A look of pity for his pathetic state flickered in Kallian's eyes as he looked down at him. It was the face of someone who had seen right through whatever he was trying to say.
“Do you believe Nix of Harmony will come and save you?”
What a foolish and pitiful creature. To have observed him from such close proximity and still fail to grasp Nix's true nature.
“Your tongue will likely never regenerate, even after a year, even after a century.”
Seateu, who had been thrashing about with his torso cut squarely like a log, flinched and froze at those words.
“The same goes for those limbs.”
Kallian spun the bloodied sword smoothly in his hand. The white crystals clinging to the blade sparkled elegantly.
Seateu felt his mind being engulfed in white. Come to think of it, he couldn't feel any sensation of regeneration from his severed limbs.
What...
A terror of a different dimension plummeted his body to the very depths of the earth. Distantly, into a deeper abyss.
Only Kallian's frigid face was reflected in his blankly dilated pupils.
“Hanpung.”
The snowfield wind that had vanished earlier flew in from somewhere, dropping what it had carried wrapped in its tail into Kallian's hand with a light plop.
A terracotta chalice baked by Gaia herself—the Chalice of Oblivion.
After confirming the ingredients were already inside the chalice, Kallian gestured to the air. From afar, Ananke's moth flew in, tracing a spiral. Its wings were stained red with droplets of his blood drawn from Tartarus. He plucked the moth's wings into the chalice and swirled it to mix.
Meanwhile, Hanpung had forced Seateu's mouth open, awaiting its lord's command.
Kallian dripped the waters of oblivion onto his mutilated tongue. “Ugh...” Having swallowed the waters, Seateu looked up at Kallian with terrified eyes.
His irises were as chilling as a crocodile's gaze, waiting for its prey to drown.
Seateu's eyelids spasmed. His mind grew hazy. The violence he had experienced for the first time in his life left him unable to even resist.
A myriad of emotions surged up like quivering lips. Before he could even realize it was shock and terror, his body went into convulsions.
The moment Seateu lost consciousness, Kallian gouged out his eyes and tossed them into the lake. Nix's messenger birds would soon find the floating marks of the execution.
A groan tore through the valley like a rift. Nisa's screams echoed. Yes, an execution is this brutal. A sobbing that drags on as long as the depth of the sins committed.
Kallian stared at Seateu's blood on his hands, then gazed past his shoulder at the cabin.
Not a single sound could be heard.
Panicked footsteps kicked the door open and rushed inside. His lover, who had plugged her ears with hardened candle wax, was lying on a bed draped in white cloth, sleeping peacefully with even breaths.
Panting heavily, Kallian pressed his ear to her chest. Only after hearing the rhythmic beating of her heart did the tension in his eyelids ease.
The inconvenience of becoming human was that he now had to personally confirm Anteros's well-being with his own two eyes and ears, whereas before, he could sense it anywhere at any time.
Sinking onto the bed, Kallian grasped Asteril's hand. His heart was still pounding. He couldn't easily calm down.
Taking after his mother Ananke, he too possessed the gift of foresight. At times, a cold premonition brushing the nape of his neck felt like a flying arrow.
Seateu shrieks and demands answers with his gouged-out eyes.
Oh, Kallian, if so, how deep and profound is the weight of the sins you have committed? Have you ever looked into them? Into their resentful gazes. Into the hatred directed at you.
Kallian squeezed his clasped hands together. The shattered chaos was always ready to gather the weight of the lives he had trampled like black mud and hurl it at her.
He could envision his only Anteros, screaming and wailing like the women he had thrown into the fire pit.
No, that would never happen. She is Gaia's successor. She is different from ordinary mortals. Such a horrific thing will not come to pass.
Even so, a chill ran through his heart.
Even Gaia of the Earth had to pay the price ordained by fate. Much less her, she was human. A mortal destined to die one day. Yet, because of his own selfishness and desire, she had been sucked into the tapestry of the gods.
The tendons on the back of his hand bulged as they twitched minutely. Kallian pressed both hands against his pale forehead and closed his eyes.
Such a thing... will not come to pass.
Ψ
The night, which had felt like a myth, passed, and Tethys and Amphitrite were resting at Mnemosyne's hideout.
That afternoon, a messenger urgently dispatched from the Triton Royal Palace galloped to the village entrance and blew a horn. The grand sound of the horn, echoing as the horse reared up, sent a stir through all of Nisa.
The villagers, who cautiously stepped out of their homes, wore expressions of shock. Riding a black horse, the messenger circled the fountain and shouted at the top of his lungs.
“King Tyndareus has passed away!”
It was the moment the fabric woven by the God of Fate fluttered, revealing the hidden pattern on its reverse side.
Tethys, who received the messenger sent by Gainas, sat on a cedar chair draped in sheepskin and responded with composure.
It was no surprise that the capital knew she was alive despite having been sent as a sacrifice. Rumors always spread faster than a pack of rats.
Tyndareus, who had recently been bedridden, had finally breathed his last. The first in line to the throne was naturally the eldest son, Prince Perius.
She feigned ignorance and first inquired about Perius's movements. The messenger replied with a dark expression.
"Unfortunately, His Highness Phereus is currently missing. I am told that Lord Gainas has scoured every corner of the royal palace, but has yet to find any trace of him."
Tethys clenched her fist. He's dead. That raving madman is finally dead. Or, at the very least, like her royal father, he was surely lying collapsed somewhere like a withered tree, hovering between life and death.
Amphitrite sat on the floor, eyes brimming with fear, and wrapped her arms around her older sister's waist. Tethys stroked her younger sister's hair, telling her not to worry.
"I shall return to the palace."
Melinoe and Leuce, who had been eavesdropping on the conversation outside the side gate, looked at each other with smiles on their lips.
The events that unfolded in Nysa shook the entirety of Poseidonia like a fierce gale.
Never before had anyone offered as a sacrifice in the Valley of Death returned alive. And she hadn't simply returned—she had soared up from the base of the cliff like a goddess of the moon.
On the day Tethys returned to the palace, the citizens of Triton took to the streets to welcome her, scattering flowers along her path. Wearing necklaces and bracelets crafted from conch shells to venerate Tethys, who had ascended as the incarnation of Thalassa, they waved their hands.
Meanwhile, Aris looked down at everything from the highest gabled roof within the palace. The procession of the princesses, traveling in palanquins escorted by soldiers, was dazzling enough, but what captured everyone's gaze was Calian, walking at the tail end of the procession as if to cap it off.
The spectators murmured in awe at the sight of Tethys, but upon seeing Calian appear at the very end of the procession, they were left utterly spellbound.
With his long hair tied back by a leather cord and draped in a crimson chlamys, he carried a sword that emanated a chilling aura, its hilt protruding from beneath a tunic that fell sharply from his broad shoulders.
His half-lidded gaze and long eyelashes gave him a languid, almost bored air, while his firmly pressed lips were a vivid rose hue, seemingly capable of bewitching even a goddess into stealing a kiss.
Aris clicked her tongue, resting her chin in her hand.
How could he be even more mesmerizing than when he was a Ceton? His terrifyingly beautiful appearance was nothing short of bewitching.
The procession ascended the seemingly endless flight of stairs, stretching out like the horizon. The colonnade, formed by dozens of pillars, gleamed so brilliantly with gold affixed to the walls that it was blinding.
Squinting against the glare, Asteril glanced sideways at the ivory-colored murals. The figures of past kings were carved along the length of the wall. Soon, Tethys's face would be painted among them. She would become the first female monarch in the history of Poseidonia.
Dressed in a white gown embroidered with red thread, Tethys passed through the audience chamber, packed with royals she had never once laid eyes on, and arrived at the king's chambers.
The murmuring of voices bounced off the polished walls, echoing like a cavern.
On the dais, a new throne had been prepared for her in place of the ones used by Tyndareus and Phereus. Carved twisting vines adorned the tall backrest, and golden lion skin cushioned the seat.
Adjusting the sapphire-studded crown on her head, she took her seat upon the throne. She smoothed her gown to the side and sat with a straight, rigid spine. It was an action that betrayed her fastidious nature. The elders stared at her with tense expressions.
Just then, Gainas approached, strutting with his chin held high like a fat peacock, and pressed his lips to the back of Tethys's hand in a gesture of fealty.
"May the blessing of Pontus bestowed upon the new monarch..."
"Drag this wretch away."
The moment Tethys's icy voice fell, soldiers rushed forward and forced Gainas to his knees. Gainas wore an expression of utter bewilderment.
"Gainas, a hand and an ear, presumed to belong to Prince Phereus, were discovered in your office. Can you explain this?"
"W-what do you mean...? I know nothing of this."
"I am told that the last person seen with Phereus before his disappearance was you, Gainas."
"Pardon? Th-that is utter nonsense... No! It was not me. It wasn't me, it was her. Th-the Princess of Demeter..."
"Silence!"
Tethys sprang to her feet and commanded in a furious voice. The soldier guarding her side swiftly stepped down and struck Gainas fiercely across the cheek.
Smack!
Clutching his cheek, Gainas rolled on the floor and looked up at Tethys with a terrified face.
"I am innocent, innocent, Your Majesty! What crime have I committed? I did it all for Lady Tethys... No, for Your Majesty! Would it not tarnish Your Majesty's reputation if the one who killed Prince Phereus were revealed? That is why I dealt with it in secret. Thanks to me, have you not ascended the throne without a single scandal? Is this not all my doing?"
"You are a parasite, sucking the lifeblood of the people."
Tethys spoke with a solemn expression. Gainas was bewildered. Was this truly the gentle and benevolent princess?
He hastily glanced around. Everyone was looking away, feigning ignorance. They were the very men who had greedily accepted his bribes and reveled in the slaves he had offered them over the years.
Tethys's icy demeanor radiated a thunderous fury. She was commanding, living up to the rumors of being the incarnation of Thalassa.
Not knowing what else to do, Gainas threw himself flat on the ground. He begged for his life. He clapped his hands together in desperate supplication, but Tethys's fury showed no signs of subsiding.
Desperately lifting his head, Gainas froze when he spotted Asteril looking his way through a slightly ajar door at the end of the royal passage.
Meeting Gainas's eyes, Asteril smiled, her eyes curving into crescents. With a dimple sinking into her cheek, she mouthed the words:
'As promised... I have not forgotten your efforts.'
Gainas let out a howling wail. Leaving his ensuing screams behind, Asteril strolled leisurely into the royal garden.
Beneath the shade of a massive olive tree, Calian, dressed in a white tunic, sat leaning against the trunk, enjoying the cool, salty breeze.
"Sitting like that, you look just like some young noble lord. If you tucked a golden lyre under your arm, you might even pass for a decadent bard wandering the palace."
At her jest, Calian reached out his hand, beckoning her closer. His eyes held the desire for a kiss.
"You did it, didn't you?"
He shot her a glance, demanding further elaboration. Asteril sat beside him, resting her head on his shoulder and crossing her arms. She saw his brazen expression; it seemed he was ready to feign utter innocence.
"I'm talking about Prince Phereus. I heard both his hands and ears were severed?"
"He was the one who attempted to violate you. Is that not a fitting retribution?"
"Still, isn't that too..."
She swallowed her words, about to say it was too cruel. As a Ceton, he could not comprehend the concepts of cruelty or ruthlessness.
"Is he still alive, by any chance?"
"Pardon?" she asked, feeling his fingers comb through her hair. There was a sense of anticipation in his touch.
"He is dead."
A flicker of regret crossed his eyes as he withdrew his gaze. It seemed that severing his hands and ears alone was not enough for him.
Gainas, who had reigned over the temple on the hill for long years, lining his own pockets, ultimately met a gruesome end.
Tethys charged him with the crime of harming the royal family and sentenced him to the highest penalty—decapitation. As he was dragged out to the Agora, he thrashed about like a pig being led to the slaughter.
It was said that he cried out his innocence, blabbering that the Princess of Demeter or a priest of Cocytus was responsible, but every time he spouted such nonsense, the merchants in the Agora pelted him with stones and hurled curses at him.
Following this, Tethys focused on healing the scars left on the royal family by Tyndareus and Phereus.
She dismantled the Rakrak Palace and emancipated the unnecessary slaves. She reorganized the court's budget and dispatched newly appointed ministers to neighboring nations to repair isolated diplomatic relations.
The kingdom, which had been on the verge of collapse, was now being reborn from the ashes.
Ψ
The Library of Alexandria, the largest existing repository of knowledge on earth.
Renowned as a treasure trove of boundless knowledge, this royal library of Poseidonia was the place Tethys had cherished most since her days as a princess.
This colossal library, its grand colonnade connected by wave-like white marble pillars and a gabled roof, was situated to the west, a mere half a shichen away from the royal palace.
The sheer volume of knowledge housed within the Library of Alexandria was beyond imagination, and its categories ranged from works of art to science, technology, astronomy, and literature.
The secret behind Poseidonia's ability to amass such a vast repository of knowledge within the library lay in their harbor.
Having developed its commerce early on through unrivaled navigational skills and trade with neighboring nations, the port of Triton was constantly bustling with new vessels.
The late King Tyndareus possessed such an insatiable appetite for collecting that he even formed a treasure-hunting squad under his command.
He issued secret orders to plunder books, artworks, and various rare goods from the ships anchored at the Triton harbor. Extortionate trades, forcing merchants to accept money for their valuables, were also commonplace.
The librarians would confiscate the originals from the merchants, then produce and return copies or replicas. It got to the point where merchants considered themselves lucky just to receive a copy in return.
Resentful sailors began referring to the Library of Alexandria with the derogatory moniker, the "Ship Library."
Nevertheless, the library's repository of knowledge swelled by the day, the number of scribes and librarians exploded, and royals and nobles of neighboring nations were desperate for a glimpse of the treasures held within the Library of Alexandria.
"Currently, over two hundred thousand volumes and artworks are housed here."
"Wow... It's truly amazing. To think every one of these tall shelves is filled with stone and clay tablets! They're packed between every pillar. Lady Tethys, what are those? Surely not papyrus?"
"That's right. The people of the Eastern Continent record their texts on paper made from reed-like grass and store them in scrolls."
Asteril tilted her head completely back to take in the massive bookshelves reaching all the way to the ceiling. Her wide eyes blinked as her mouth fell open with a "Wow..."
"I think I could live here."
Asteril murmured, looking as though she were entranced. Tethys stole a smile, finding her adorable.
"I plan to expand the Library of Alexandria even further. Naturally, through just and fair methods, unlike my father. Poseidonia's culture will flourish even more from this place."
Asteril wore an expression of deep admiration. They toured the interior of the library, conversing for a long while.
Meanwhile, Calian tilted his head, sweeping his gaze over the surroundings. Was it his imagination? He could feel the faint trace of his kin's power from somewhere nearby.
After surveying the area, he cast a brief glance toward Asteril to check on her, then moved to track the presence.
Having finished the tour of the first floor, Tethys headed toward the staircase situated in the center of the library. The soldiers standing guard on either side of the stairs dropped to one knee and bowed their heads upon seeing Tethys.
The staircase, clad in ivory marble, was designed to pass through a curtain of falling water. Having stepped through the thin, membrane-like veil of cascading water, Asteril was suddenly reminded of the palace entrance.
"Come to think of it, it reminds me of that floating fountain. And the legendary spear that the late King Tyndareus searched so desperately for."
"I will no longer seek the Spear of Diocles."
Tethys spoke as if delivering a rehearsed answer.
"A new symbol will hang there from now on."
Asteril was about to ask what it was, but hesitated. Tethys's eyes, curved in a playful manner, held a meaningful smile.
"Don't tell me... it has something to do with me?"
"Would that be a problem?"
Asteril wore a flustered expression.
"It's not that, but..."
"My Spear of Diocles has always been you, Lady Asteril, for a very long time."
The second floor of the library, bathed in sunlight, was a restricted space where only Tethys and the scholars were permitted.
A large midre-wood door bearing a rose motif greeted them. The rose relief was painted with red dye, and the carved green vines elegantly adorned the edges.
"I had my father's repulsive room demolished without a trace. And in its place, I created a new Room of Roses. A secretive and dignified space, befitting the true meaning of the red rose."
Tethys pushed the two midre-wood doors with both hands. As the heavy doors swung open, the scent of sealed air wafted out. The soft glow of candles illuminated the darkroom-like interior.
"I had it constructed so that no words spoken within this room can ever leak out. Even Lord Calian, who is waiting outside, will not be able to hear our voices. Though, of course, there are no secrets between the two of you..."
In the center of the new Room of Roses sat a solid wood table, its oval grain beautifully pronounced.
Asteril and Tethys each took a seat at the edge of the table. The two looked at each other and smiled. They were simply delighted. How long had it been since they had such a moment of leisure?
Sipping fragrant tea and savoring honey pastries, the two burst into laughter like sisters. Their banter continued for a long time, and the conversation never lacked topics that could make their cheeks flush.
"Then may I now speak of a matter befitting the Room of Roses?"
A smile lingered on Asteril's lips. Noticing that her gaze had grown significantly more serious, Tethys interlaced her fingers on the table and nodded.
"There is a matter I must urgently disclose to you alone, Lady Tethys."
Asteril unrolled the bundle she had brought wrapped in cloth and spread it across the table. Dark purple, withered petals and leaves rustled as they came into view.
Tethys stared intently at them. The ominous purple flower bed that had contrasted with the deep blue sky. She remembered it well.
"The flower of Delphi."
The moment Tethys ascended the throne, she had ordered every last one of those vile flowers filling the palace to be uprooted.
Upon hearing the news, Asteril had rushed over and saved a few as specimens.
"It seems the late king's cause of death was poison."
Tethys blinked once at Asteril's words. She did not appear particularly surprised.
"Grinding the petals and dissolving them in water acts as a sleep aid, but the stems and roots contain aphrodisiac properties. If consumed over a long period, it becomes a lethal poison."
"Are you saying he consumed it without knowing it was a poisonous herb? How fitting an end for the father-king..."
"He must have trusted his son, the heir."
It was a moment that proved leaving fools to their own devices would inevitably breed a schemer among them.
This time, it was Tethys who brought something out.
"These were discovered in Perius's private storeroom."
It was a small jar. Upon seeing the lid handle engraved with a snake carving, Asteril immediately recalled the cosmetic container she had seen in the Room of Roses. Its shape was also strikingly similar to the cosmetic jar of Megara that Anactra had shown her.
"It seems Perius was secretly in league with Delphi behind the father-king's back. Just like those flowers that infested the royal garden, he intended to poison all of Poseidonia with the venom called Delphi."
What a foolish prince he was. So foolish that not even a trace of pity arose for his demise.
"Come to think of it, I heard Perius sent Lady Penelope to Delphi, using the pretext of securing a wedding date for Gamos. With Perius, who was taking orders from Delphi, now fallen, Pythia will never surrender Lady Penelope without a fight."
"I suppose so..."
"There is not a single neighboring kingdom untouched by Delphi's influence. With the exception of exactly one place: Demeter."
The people of Demeter were renowned for their exceptionally deep faith. This was partly due to the devoutness of their king, Amphithea, but the existence of the princess known as the Miracle of Cocytus also played a significant role.
That was what they believed—that the royal family of Demeter was blessed with the love and protection of the Gaia they worshipped.
"That is why I am deeply concerned. Delphi must have been waiting for an opportunity to extend its reach into Demeter all this time. Under these circumstances, Princess Penelope would be far too tempting a prey."
"I have already dispatched a letter to the Queen Mother. Sister Cyane will take action soon."
However, it remained uncertain whether Delphi would actually listen. Even if Cyane sent a letter bearing the Queen Mother's seal, Delphi would not readily relinquish the golden toad that had fallen into its hands.
"More importantly, I saw the corpses of the women who had been missing in Hecate's hideout. I can only pray that my mother did not end up in such a state."
Tethys's expression was resolute. Dangling from her ears were the late queen's earrings, the ones reportedly found in the valley of Nysa.
"Such tragedies must never happen again. I hope no one else has to endure the same sorrow as Amphitrite and I."
With her fingers still interlaced, Tethys looked more resilient than she had ever appeared before.
"If so, then you must forge an alliance with me once again, must you not? For my next destination is Delphi."
Asteril cast her gaze past Tethys's shoulder.
"Isn't that right, Lady Melinoe?"
At that, the door to a secret passage hidden within the ivory wall creaked open, and Melinoe, dressed in a short tunic, stepped out with a reluctant expression.
"How did you know I was hiding in here?"
Asteril smiled ambiguously. It was a habitual trait from her days as a priestess—smiling gently to evade the question.
Melinoe narrowed her eyes and glared at the Midrena wood door, as if asking whether the North Wind or the East Wind was lurking in there too.
When her rare attempt at a prank ended in failure, she snorted and turned her head, taking a seat at the center of the table.
"If anything, Lady Melinoe, how did you find that secret passage? That is a space known only to me and a select few confidants."
When Tethys asked in wonder, Asteril chimed in.
"Lady Melinoe, you have truly become as adept as Artemis, the guardian of the forest, as of late."
"I am merely returning to my original self."
Melinoe muttered with a creased brow.
"More importantly, Princess Tethys—no, I suppose I should call you Queen now—I am truly sorry about the late queen. I never imagined Delphi was involved."
"Pardon? Why are you apologizing, Lady Melinoe...?"
"Delphi was originally a city belonging to Aphrodisias, so is it not akin to my own negligence?"
"But it is not anymore. Besides, you have been in Hades all this time, Lady Melinoe. Please do not fret over it."
"It is my responsibility!"
Melinoe cried out in anguish. Flustered, Tethys stood up, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. Asteril also stared at Melinoe, who had buried her face like a guilty sinner, with a startled expression.
"It is all my failing for not preventing this beforehand..."
The Obsidian Princess from Aphrodisias, the kingdom that worshipped the Goddess of Fate.
All this time, Asteril had been curious about Melinoe's past but never let it show. She knew that her story, like incense smoke rising from an altar, had to wait for the appropriate moment.
Melinoe lifted her head from her folded arms and gazed at Asteril with reddened eyes.
"I am no princess."
Lowering the arrows she carried on her back, Melinoe fiddled with her calloused fingers. Faint pink scars lingered from small scratches.
"But the crown of Aphrodisias was meant to be mine."