Pherenike - Chapter 28

However, the light of Althea, pouring like water over the cub’s body, kept dissipating into the earth. Pherenike repeatedly sent out Althea, but the healing light, which should have permeated the wounds and the cub’s body, kept scattering. It was like water spilled on the ground.

At nine years old, around that time, she had awakened at the Glauce Spring.

Having just received the gift of Althea from the goddess, she wanted to test her power on all that was sick and suffering in the world, much like a child wanting to go everywhere in new clothes.

However, Pherenike’ primary caretaker at that time was Queen Axiothea. The queen who was unable to control the restless Deucalion was all the more overprotective of Pherenike.

The queen fretted over everything that could hurt this little thing. She was worried about everything. Why would you waste your precious Althea on something fleeting? What if the gods punish you for interfering with the sick and make you sick?

The cases Queen Axiothea presented to Pherenike were people who were so boring that she yawned – a maid with a summer cold, a black cat with a paw injured from a corner of the stone, a kitchen maid fainting at the sight of a few drops of blood.

The queen would gather every person in the palace who had even the slightest discomfort or ailment and present them to Pherenike as if she were collecting sparkling pebbles to give to her daughter. And when Pherenike healed them, the queen would proudly watch with gleaming eyes.

But whenever there was a serious case, it was swiftly sent to the healing house before Pherenike could find out.

Thus, Pherenike’ experience was like holding a handful of dirt while a mountain stood before her. It all seemed like child’s play, and indeed, it was no different from a child’s make-believe.

The lion cub was, therefore, her first real challenge after the Glauce Spring. Before entering the spring, she had never heard or seen something like this. She had occasionally used the whispers of small daemons passing by to light a small flame but never felt ‘the path’ the priests spoke of.

However, after emerging from the spring, Pherenike felt the path of water spread throughout her body. The light she created without the daemon’s voices was like a tiny stream branching from that path. But a stream wasn’t enough to save a dying creature.

[“I will take your daughter.”]

In the darkness, the beast’s blue eyes turned to look at her.

[“As you’ve abandoned her.”]

[“……”]

[“Now this child’s life is mine. Do you agree?”]

The lioness silently watched her bloodied cub in Pherenike’ arms. Humans always worshiped gods resembling themselves, but perhaps animals were closer to gods. They held fragments of the god in their eyes.

That day, Pherenike thought she saw something god-like in the lioness’s eyes.

The lioness quietly watched her child leave, observing them until they were just a speck beyond the fence.

That night, Pherenike hid in an unused room, pouring Althea into the cub repeatedly.

The small stream flowing from her fingertips transformed into a river, and as it grew, it became a river. For a brief moment, the bottom of this metaphorical river became visible.

Finally, like a river meeting the ocean, the path of water connected, and white flames flickered over the body of the lion cub infused with Althea. The little body, once limp on the pillow, began to shiver, and its previously faint breath grew stronger.

That night, Pherenike held the lion, and ran to Deucalion’s room to wake him. Deucalion was summoned to the house as soon as Vasillios returned to Lykke. He was sound asleep, exhausted from being beaten all over his body with a wooden sword by his mentor and future father-in-law.

At that time, he would not wake up no matter how much she called him. Even shaking him hardly mattered. Eventually, Pherenike forcibly pulled him to sit up.

The boy, his silver hair disheveled, sat up grudgingly while the girl grabbed his collar.

The cub Pherenike had released was already hopping around on his bed. Deucalion, still half-asleep, stared at the lion in disbelief and asked, “So, this cat is…”

“It’s a lion.”

“Whatever. You’re saying you healed it when it was almost dead?”

“Yes. Impressive, right?”

“It’s just your eyes. You sure it wasn’t fine to begin with?”

Deucalion suggested half-heartedly, still wishing to go back to sleep. He wondered if her earnest enthusiasm had made her see things.

Instead of hitting Deucalian, Pherenike pulled his arm towards her and poured Althea into it like she had done with the cub.

Deucalion’s eyes widened, finally fully awake. He looked intently at his arm. The distinct density of the divine power was much more different than usual. It was like a wave coming in through a mere bruise.

The condition or injury of the subject acted as a gateway for Althea.

The severity of the pain determined the size of this gateway. How much one could channel through this opened door largely depended on the skill of the one performing the healing.

However, the size of the gateway couldn’t be exceeded. Just as a door made for cats couldn’t accommodate an elephant.