Chapter 7
Actor, who was silently staring at her with a gaze that she couldn’t decipher, nodded slightly and left.
The sound of those who had been watching them from a distance moved a little further away. By the time they noticed something strange, it would already be too late.
She looked around like a beast guarding its territory for a moment and then leaned over Deucalion, who was soaked in blood. She quickly kissed his forehead, cheeks, and the pierced throat, one after another.
Then, she crouched over him and pulled out a dagger then began to slowly cut beneath her own chest.
For the sake of borrowing the goddess’s power that Kybellaune could use only once.
Her tongue, soaked in Deucalion’s blood, vowed an exchange of life. Her life and the one Deucalion had lost.
Driving the blade that had shallowly penetrated even deeper with force, Pherenike silently bore the pain so that no one would know. To prevent anyone from interfering.
He would wake up again in a very safe place. He would forget the agony of his death, pierced by his brother.
She couldn’t know where her soul would go, but it was okay, as long as he could open his eyes again, even if she couldn’t see it.
“….I will still be yours, even in death. Just like you will be mine, even in death.”
So you will return. To this land.
- Sisyphus
“Deucalion Paetusa Pelagon.”
The first sensation to pierce through was sound. The king’s words from Pherenike’s distant memories cut through the vast silence.
“In life, he was a disloyal son of Epicydes, and in death, he will be an eternal traitor against the kingdom of Evdokia and the Pelagon royal family. A disgrace and a stigma on the land of Paetusa.”
It felt like being trapped in an old nightmare.
It was as if a hazy veil covered Pherenike’s vision, like a newly born beast unable to open its eyes properly.
‘Another cursed dream.’
Four years ago, on that day. Late autumn of Heliodora Year 892.
Many nights, countless dreams, the nineteen-year-old Deucalion had appeared in her dreams, and there was a moment when she thought she would lose him forever.
“Deucalion, the heir, conspired with the Argo kingdom. He planned to steal the throne of the king and kill the father who bore him.”
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t move her fingers even a bit, a strange helplessness dominating her limbs. But the clear sound was even stranger.
Suddenly, Pherenike realized that this was not a dream.
“He disrespected the honorable ancestors of the Pelagon lineage, thus disqualifying himself from becoming the ruler of Paetusa.”
The wind passing between the gaps in the doors and windows, and countless silenced mouths.
The voice of the king she had cursed.
A chilling coldness clung to her skin, waking her up. But the last memory of her offering herself as a sacrifice was no illusion. It was not a dream, even though it felt like it had happened only seconds ago, as vivid as if she had been looking at Deucalion’s face.
Deucalion’s blood that wet her lips. That dreadful ecstasy.
If he could just be brought back to this world, even if it was before crossing the Styx River seven times, Pherenike was willing to endure the agony of splitting her belly as a worthy sacrifice.
And nothing could interfere with her determination.
Pherenike had undoubtedly ‘successfully’ severed her own life. She had become an existence that could never dream again, even if she wished.
So, even if all of this was nothing but an empty dream, it should never have been given to her.
Especially if this was indeed reality.
“I am but a failed father. I will humbly accept all the decisions of the council.”
The king declared that he would humbly follow the decisions of the council that suited his taste while usually ignoring it. It was a declaration that was very humble yet was just a despicable facade.
The king simply pulled off that despicable act with ease. It was a matter of perspective; to someone, it was justice.
“I, Epycides Alcandre Pelagon, swear by the goddess’s lion and the ash tree. I will depose Deucalion from all his noble hereditary positions, recover the rule of the kingdom in the name of the royal family, and banish him forever from the honorable lineage of the Pelagon royal family.”
Amid the hushed silence, waves of joy and anger surged through everyone.
“And thus, let him breathe his last in the Agora as a mere orphan with a name, not the son of the King of Evdokia, not the ruler of Paetusa.”
At that moment, Pherenike opened her eyes.
“Execute Deucalion.”
Her eerie, almost inhuman, black-gleaming eyes began to slowly roam through the world in her field of vision.
The sick king on the throne.
Beside him, the first prince, Actor.
The priests, members of the council, numerous young men of the council, priests, and shamans of the sanctuary. The queen and her handmaids.
Queen Axiothea collapsed in the distance.
Discussion
0 CommentsNo comments yet.