Pherenike - Chapter 40

It was a foolish thing to say.

“Because I treated that child poorly for a while.”

“Ha.”

“You laughed at such a foolish remark.”

“I was mocking you.”

“Still, it was a smile.”

Actor added that he naturally lacked the talent to make women laugh. Well, what do you know. Pherenike said this almost inadvertently, as if she were jesting with a pitiful man. He retorted that if he had to criticize her, she didn’t have the talent to smile either.

Their conversation that day was lengthy, even more so than the day she agreed to have his child, which she had initially spoken of as if announcing a death.

“Did you always like children?”

“Not particularly.”

“You seem to want them, though. The choice you gave me was a lie, wasn’t it?”

“If you still oppose it now, it doesn’t matter.”

“…”

“I want what you want, Pherenike.”

The next day, Pherenike left for Calyce like a man in a pit looking for God. In truth, before being a king’s wife, she was the goddess’ Kybellaune. Like Heliodora in the legend. She held a degree of freedom unthinkable for ordinary queens. Not complete, but present.

For instance, when she wanted to leave Lykke, she could do so as Kybellaune. Conversely, when she needed to leave the sanctuary, she became the worldly queen. Possessing these dual identities was incredibly useful, albeit limited to just two options.

So, her escape wasn’t exactly miserable. The real misery was in her mind, burdened by the life that clung to her like fire.

Occasionally, Pherenike felt an urge to stab her own stomach. She still wanted to take the medicine. She even dared to blame the goddess. Yet the goddess no longer spoke to her.

A Sybylle claimed that in a dream, Pherenike had successfully conceived the oracle’s child in Geotil.

It was obvious even without hearing voices. The oracle existed; they fulfilled it. Everyone thought so. Everyone looked at Kybellaune with faces full of elation and excitement.

But Pherenike silenced the Sybylle, ensuring she couldn’t speak to anyone. She wanted the child’s existence to remain a matter of conjecture and thought.

“The womb is yours.”

Yes, it’s mine. Just as your father said. Your life, trapped within, is mine too. No one will know if you disappear. No one can save you, not even your father. She addressed the child as if executing a grand tyranny. The baby, previously unresponsive, seemed to sigh and turn away, as if shrugging off her harsh words.

Inside, where the Althea couldn’t reach, she felt a small, curled-up, shrunken energy. The baby was still too weak to do anything else. It did not stir at her words. It saw and felt nothing, only drifting in its tiny space.

Pherenike didn’t like the baby at all. It bothered her that it tried, even slightly, to sway her thoughts and feelings. It was Actor’s lineage, something she never wanted for even a moment. It felt like a monster clinging inside her stomach, repulsive.

To avoid bearing such a pointless child, she had deliberately ruined her body, making it a wreck. It was impossible for a healthy child to cling to such a ruin. Only a monster could survive, clinging on barely, breathing as if it were dying…

Pherenike laughed nervously as she entered the cave. She moved deeper inside before spitting out blood that had pooled in her mouth.

A long exhale seemed to lightly empty her lungs. Sometimes, the difficulty in breathing wasn’t just because of the forcibly lodged baby. Since a certain point, she could breathe like this only in the caves of Calyce.

The cave of prophecies without prophecies, a labyrinth her daemons made to prevent anyone from following her. Dark light and damp air. She wandered in silence, barely breathing. Only then did she finally feel alive.

Outside the cave, she sometimes felt like wandering barefoot over ruins. Standing on the scorching, dry earth, feeling as if she were slowly drowning. Her lungs seemed to be filled with water and was throbbing.

There were times when she couldn’t walk on two feet, feeling like she would rather crawl on all fours. Her body had already reached its limit; her mind, well, she hadn’t paid much attention to it. Her heart was probably the good thing, the least of her concerns. Now, she ridiculously had agreed to bear a child. Maybe the baby would perfectly do all of this.

A few years ago, she had wanted a child. When she thought of overthrowing Actor and returning to Deucalion. She wanted a child with Deucalion.

She soon realized that was impossible. Pherenike had ruined herself with the twisted Althea and medicines. The pain that returned like an echo of her power intensified.

In Pherenike’s view, she could never coexist at the same time with Deucalion. It was right that way. From the moment she vowed to exchange her life, if he lived, she had to die. There can be no fulfillment of a vow made before God without a price.

Yet she was still alive. In a world where Deucalion lives and breathes.