Eight months had passed, and already Cassandra was speaking to her parents in clear, articulate sentences that defied her age. She sat nearby, her tiny form propped up on a woolen blanket Merina had sewn just for her. Night had settled in, draping the farm in a cloak of shadows, and the familiar symphony of the Ever Resting Forest played around them—the croaking of frogs, the rhythmic chirping of crickets, and the occasional splash of water as giant fish hunted the moonlit surface of the river. The five moons hung overhead, casting their silvery glow upon the landscape, their reflections dancing like pale lanterns on the gentle currents.
Cassandra watched her parents go about their evening tasks, her father tending to a bubbling pot over the fire, and her mother working on her latest sewing project, the flicker of lantern light casting soft, warm hues across their faces. She listened to the steady rhythm of her father’s cooking, the clatter of wooden spoons and the occasional sizzle as he adjusted the pot. Every detail was vivid in her mind, sharper than it had any right to be for someone so young.
"Papa," Cassandra’s voice broke the quiet, soft yet startlingly clear, like the first note of a melody played after a long silence.
Pacificus glanced over his shoulder, his expression gentle as he stirred the pot. “Yes, my love?” he replied, his tone filled with affection as he tasted the soup, savoring the rich aroma of the herbs and vegetables simmering together.
Cassandra hesitated for only a moment, her sightless eyes seemingly focused on a distant point, as if peering into the future that only she could see. Then, with the innocent bluntness that only a child could possess, she said, “I want a brother.”
The words hung in the air, cutting through the night’s tranquility like a knife. Merina’s hands froze, her needle slipping from her grasp and clattering softly onto the wooden floor. The sudden stillness was palpable, and she stared at her daughter, wide-eyed, her mind racing with unspoken thoughts. Pacificus, caught completely off guard, flinched as if he’d been struck, his hand jerking so violently that he nearly knocked the pot off its stand. He coughed, sputtering as the soup he’d been tasting went down the wrong way, his eyes watering as he tried to compose himself.
For a moment, the only sound was the hiss of the fire and the faint rustle of Merina’s fabric as it slipped from her lap. The crickets outside seemed to grow louder, their chirping filling the heavy silence left in the wake of Cassandra’s unexpected request. Pacificus looked at his daughter, his face a mixture of shock and bewilderment, while Merina slowly bent to retrieve her fallen needle, her hands trembling slightly as she picked it up.
They exchanged a glance, both knowing that their daughter was no ordinary child, but even with all they had come to expect from her, this was... something else entirely. The innocence of her words was almost heartbreaking, layered with an eerie understanding that neither parent could fully grasp. Pacificus swallowed hard, his mind reeling from the implications, while Merina’s breath hitched, a thousand unspoken questions flashing in her eyes.
Cassandra, oblivious to the impact of her words or perhaps keenly aware in a way that made it all the more poignant, simply watched them. The tiny furrow of concentration on her brow was at odds with her small, cherubic face. She waited for their response, her expression calm and composed, as if she had merely asked for another story before bedtime.
“Cassandra, my dear,” Merina said softly, her voice trembling just a bit as she tried to rein in the whirlwind of emotions stirred up by her daughter’s innocent yet disconcerting words. She set her sewing aside, her gaze softening as she looked at Cassandra, perched with childlike poise at the edge of their conversation. “We can’t have another baby. You are already more than enough for us.”
Cassandra tilted her head, a determined pout forming on her tiny lips. “But I want a brother.”
Merina’s smile was strained, a mix of love and the gentle caution of a parent navigating a delicate topic. “That’s not how it works, sweetheart. We wouldn’t even know if you’d have a little sister or a brother.”
Cassandra’s eyes, though blind, held a certainty that sent a shiver through Merina’s heart. She spoke with the conviction of one who had already seen the truth unfold. “No, I will have a little brother. I saw it.”
Merina chuckled nervously, trying to brush off her daughter’s words. “You and your silly dreams, Cassie.”
Cassandra’s expression didn’t waver; she folded her tiny arms with the stubborn resolve that Merina knew all too well. “My dreams aren’t silly, Mama. It’s the truth. I can see the past and the future.”
Merina exchanged a quick, uneasy glance with Pacificus. They both knew their daughter spoke the truth, for one of the flaws bestowed upon her by Thanatos was her inability to lie. Every word out of Cassandra’s mouth was the unvarnished, sometimes unsettling, truth. “You and your wild imagination, dear,” Merina said, attempting to maintain her composure.
Cassandra’s tiny brow furrowed as she insisted, “But it’s not my imagination. It’s my vision, Mama. I’m honest. I’m the most honest girl in the world.”
Merina’s voice softened, brushing a stray lock of hair behind Cassandra’s ear. “I know, dear. I have a feeling that if I did get pregnant again, I might give you a brother.”
Cassandra’s face lit up with innocent hope, her fingers grasping at the loose fabric of her dress. “Can I have a brother now?”
Merina hesitated, the weight of her daughter’s question pressing down on her. “It’s… it’s not that easy, Cassie, dear.”
Cassandra seemed to contemplate this for a moment, her lips pursing before she nodded as if accepting a difficult truth. “Hmm… okay… Can I have some soup now?”
Pacificus, who had been listening quietly, jumped at the chance to change the subject. “Of course,” he said, his relief palpable as he ladled the steaming broth into a small bowl.
Cassandra smiled, her small teeth barely visible. “Grandma Leto would like some too. And Sister Demeter, she always loves to cook. She needs to talk to Lasion more—I think they look great together.”
Merina blinked, her needle still in hand as she turned to Pacificus, whispering, “Doesn’t Demeter think Lasion is annoying?”
Cassandra continued, undeterred. “She’ll learn to like him, Mama. I know it. Just make them cook together. She’s just jealous that Lasion knows how to make better food than her.”
Pacificus and Merina exchanged bewildered looks. Cassandra’s sudden penchant for matchmaking had not gone unnoticed, though it was unnerving how accurate her predictions seemed to be.
Cassandra’s voice broke the silence again. “Oh, Mama, Papa, tell Grandma Leto that Grandpa Lelantos will return tomorrow.”
Pacificus’ hand stilled, and Merina’s eyes widened. “Are you sure, dear?” Merina asked, her voice a mix of hope and disbelief.
“Yes, Mama,” Cassandra nodded confidently. “Though many will not return.”
A heavy silence settled over the room, and Merina’s heart sank at the implication. “Oh… that is… that is just… Oh.”
Cassandra reached out, patting Merina’s hand with her own tiny one, attempting to offer comfort. “Don’t worry, Mama. Grandpa is alive. And, oh—tell Mommy Hypatia to wait at the Temple of Vesta. She’s finally going to meet her husband.”
Merina’s eyebrows shot up in intrigue. “Cassie, what do you mean by husband?”
Cassandra shrugged, as if the answer were obvious. “He was a slave of her teacher, and she will bear his babies.”
Merina’s jaw dropped, her shock mirrored by Pacificus, who nearly dropped the ladle he was holding. “WHAT?!” Merina exclaimed, her voice filled with a mix of disbelief and the sudden, overwhelming realization that Cassandra’s visions were far more complex—and far-reaching—than they could have ever imagined.
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Cassandra’s legs were still too weak to carry her, but her determination was boundless. She crawled everywhere, dragging herself across the wooden floor of their small hut, her tiny hands gripping at every surface with surprising strength, though her arms lacked the muscle to match. She explored every nook and cranny of their home and occasionally ventured into the nearby Temple of Vesta. She had learned to carefully climb out of her crib and navigate the stairs, but she never went beyond the safety of the walls, aware of the dangers that lay outside.
In her explorations, she found solace in the quiet company of her unlikely ally—Grandma Leto, the ever-watchful guardian who seemed to understand her in ways that others could not.
Cassandra lay sprawled on Leto’s lap, her little fingers fiddling with the hem of the elder’s dress, her voice barely above a whisper. “Grandma, I can see the past and the future,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact, as if she were speaking of the weather.
Leto gently stroked Cassandra’s hair, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and affection. “I know, dear. I know you keep saying that to me. But Cassie, love, try not to talk about those things when others are around. Gods, the first time you spoke, I nearly thought you were possessed by a demon.”
“I’m sorry, Grandma,” Cassandra murmured, her head nuzzling closer to Leto’s warm embrace.
Leto sighed, shaking her head softly. “So, what do you need me to do, dear?”
Cassandra hesitated, her small voice betraying the weight of her thoughts. “Mama and Papa need to make a baby.”
Leto froze, her hand stilling in Cassandra’s hair as she tried to process what she’d just heard. “...Pardon?”
Cassandra’s eyes, unseeing yet filled with a knowing depth, remained fixed ahead. “Papa is a hybrid like me. Mama will become weak after a year… and after twenty years, she will die, even with Big Brother Apollo’s help.”
Leto’s breath caught in her throat, and she clutched Cassandra a little closer, her heart aching at the revelation. “Oh… oh, my poor daughter. But, Cassie dear, why do you need a younger brother so badly?”
Cassandra’s tiny hands balled into fists as she lay against Leto’s lap. “Because Papa wouldn’t hesitate to go on a journey to save Mama if he knew she was pregnant… Papa is strong. I think… I think he can save Mama. I just don’t want Mama to die.”
Leto’s eyes filled with tears she fought to hold back, her voice trembling with a mix of hope and dread. “You think?”
Cassandra nodded, her voice soft and uncertain. “Yes… For some reason, Grandmama, I can’t see Papa’s future. It’s like he’s too strong… but I think he can save Mama.”
Leto’s brow furrowed, her thoughts swirling with worry. “Dear, what if the reason your vision comes true is because your father went to save her?”
Cassandra’s face scrunched up in confusion. “That can’t be right. Papa was there. If he didn’t go on a journey, then he shouldn’t be there.”
Leto’s heart tightened at the child’s reasoning. “Are you sure, dear?”
“Yes, Grandmama… also, Grandpapa will return now. Tell Mommy Hypatia to meet them at the temple.”
Leto nodded slowly, her eyes distant as she processed Cassandra’s words. “Oh… I already know, dear. Your parents told me about that. But they never told me about you being the child of a hybrid.”
Cassandra tensed, her small form shrinking in Leto’s arms.
“...”
“...”
“Are you angry, Grandmama?” Cassandra’s voice was small, laced with fear and guilt.
Leto’s heart broke at the question, and she lifted Cassandra’s chin gently, forcing the little girl to face her. “For what, dear?”
“For me… being born… I’m… I’m the reason Mama is dying… I—”
Leto pulled her closer, hugging the fragile child with all the love she had. “Don’t you dare say that, dearie. Don’t say that. Your mother loves you, and she chose you to live. And so would I.”
Cassandra’s small body shook with the silent sobs she tried to hold back, and Leto rocked her gently. In that quiet moment, Leto vowed to protect this fragile child, no matter what fate had in store.
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Cassandra saw it—the future that awaited her. She saw the suitors, their eyes gleaming with hunger, lust curling at the edges of their gazes. She knew what would happen when people learned about her gift, when they realized she could unravel the secrets of the future and the past. She shuddered, her small body tense as the visions flickered through her mind.
“Nope,” she muttered to herself with quiet determination. “I’m definitely not telling them that.”
There were futures—too many—where she had revealed the nature of her powers to the wrong people. It never ended well. The only ones she could trust were her parents, her grandmother, and her three older siblings. They were safe, but she couldn’t risk anyone else. Everyone else was a question mark, a danger lurking in the threads of destiny.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Her gaze fell on the trio before her. Hyakinthos, his graceful form moving with a delicate fluidity as he prepared a meal; Apollo, sitting nearby, engrossed in a scroll, his golden hair catching the light; and Artemis, fast asleep on the orphanage’s porch, exhausted from the night's hunt.
Cassandra’s heart ached as she looked at Hyakinthos, her sadness filling her young, wise eyes. She closed them, retreating into the endless visions that spun through her mind. She was always thinking, always seeing, always calculating the paths that lay ahead.
But exhaustion caught up to her. Before she realized it, she had drifted off, her small body falling into the comforting embrace of sleep. When she woke, she found herself nestled in a soft crib, the familiar scent of the blankets and the warmth of the room telling her who had placed her there. She didn't need to guess—her sister Demeter had found her and carried her to bed. Cassandra knew this because she had quickly looked into the past, a task she found far easier than peering into the future.
With a determined grunt, she crawled out of her crib, her small hands and legs working quickly as she explored the orphanage once more. She moved with purpose, her destination clear. She wanted to find her mother. Mama was washing blankets, as usual, probably scrubbing clothes at the edge of the farm’s walls. Her father had requested that no one wash clothes near the river to avoid disturbing the wildlife, so the women often gathered in safer areas. But getting there was dangerous for a baby, even one like her, so she sought out her trusted ally.
She crawled up to Hyakinthos and bumped his leg with her tiny hand.
Hyakinthos, startled, looked down to see the infant at his feet. His eyes widened in shock, though he quickly softened. “Cassandra? What are you doing here?”
“Mama! Mama! Mama!” Cassandra babbled. She wanted to say, Big brother, take me to Mama, but she knew better than to speak so clearly. It would only alarm Hyakinthos. Instead, she chose to act like the infant she appeared to be.
“Oh, I see,” he chuckled softly, his delicate features glowing as he bent down to pick her up. Despite his graceful appearance, Hyakinthos was strong—far stronger than his slender frame suggested. Lifting her was as effortless as lifting a feather.
There was another reason she had chosen him. She knew what was about to happen.
As Hyakinthos carried her toward Merina, he spotted her sitting beneath a tree, resting from her chores. “Mother Rina,” he called softly, “Cassie was looking for you.”
Merina smiled as she reached out for her daughter, her arms opening wide. But when she tried to stand, her body suddenly felt heavy—too heavy—and she stumbled, collapsing back onto the ground.
“RINA!” Hyakinthos shouted in panic, rushing to her side. “MOTHER RINA!”
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Merina woke to the sight of a familiar ceiling, its wooden beams bathed in the soft morning light filtering through the windows. The moment she recognized it, she knew she was in Pacificus's hut. The scent of herbs from the kitchen mingled with the faint earthy smell of the Ever Resting Forest outside. She wasn’t alone. Her ears caught the low murmur of voices, tense and full of emotion.
She turned her head slightly and saw her husband, Pacificus, standing near the door, pale as a ghost, his brow furrowed in despair. His posture was rigid, his fists clenched at his sides, and every muscle in his body seemed taut, ready to break from the weight of his decision. Across from him sat Leto, her adopted mother, calm but grave, her wise eyes reflecting the sadness she shared with them both.
“I need to go,” Pacificus's voice trembled with urgency. His words were heavy, almost desperate. “It’s starting… I need to go… I can’t, Mother Leto. I can’t just stand here and do nothing while she gets weaker every day.”
His voice cracked with the weight of his helplessness. The room felt suffocating to Merina as the gravity of his words sank into her chest. She could see how deeply it tore at him, this impossible choice, the thought of leaving her in her fragile state while he sought a cure.
Leto looked up from where she sat, her aged hands resting on her lap, fingers gently entwined. “Young man…” she began softly, her voice a steady anchor in the storm of emotions swirling in the room. “No… I think you should ask for her permission first. This might be the last time you see her alive. I don’t want your last memory of her to be a bitter one.”
Pacificus lowered his head, his breathing labored. The tension in the air was thick, pressing down on them all. Merina could feel it—the strain in his every breath, the torment in his eyes.
She pushed herself up slightly, her voice weak but steady. “I’m fine, Pacy,” she managed, her lips forming a small smile. She wanted to comfort him, to ease the burden she knew he carried. “Mother... I’m fine.”
But before she could say more, Leto’s sharp gaze turned toward her, piercing and unwavering, as if she could see straight into Merina’s soul. “Are you?” Leto asked, her tone unwavering but not unkind. Her words were laced with a deep knowing. “Merina… I... We know your husband is a hybrid. In fact, I didn’t even know it was possible for the two of you to have children… but you did. And she is a beautiful child. But Merina dear, allow me to be blunt—you are not fine.”
Merina opened her mouth to protest, but the words caught in her throat. Leto lifted a hand, silencing her before the argument could even form.
The older woman’s hand reached out, gentle but firm, and she took Merina’s hand into her own. Her touch was warm, filled with the weight of a mother’s care. “I’m asking you this, my child, because I, too, want you to live. I wanted you to live longer than me. For I, as a parent, cannot bear the simple thought of outliving my own child. Merina, please… take care of yourself. Allow your husband to go on the journey to save you.”
Tears welled in Merina’s eyes, her vision blurring. “M-Mother? H-h-how did you know?”
Leto’s grip on her hand tightened ever so slightly. “I’m not senile yet, young one. Many of your siblings are hybrids themselves. Of course, I know the reason why hybrids are often ostracized—it’s because their births often lead to their parents’ demise, though I don’t know why. But I do know one thing—those children don’t want to cause harm to their parents. You didn’t want to either.”
Merina’s gaze dropped, her voice barely a whisper. “I… I just want… to spend my last moments with those I love, Mother... Is it too much to ask?” Her tears fell freely now, her body trembling with the weight of her sorrow.
“No, my dear,” Leto whispered, her voice full of warmth and understanding. “It is not too much to ask. But my child… I don’t want to see my children die before me. If I could trade my remaining life for yours, I would do so without hesitation. My dear Merina, please… help yourself as well. Let us help you, help yourself.”
Merina sobbed softly, her heart aching. “M-mother… I’m sorry for burdening you... The truth is… I’m afraid. I’m afraid to die. I’m afraid of what will happen to Cassandra after I pass away. I’m afraid of what will happen to Pacy when I’m gone. But… but I am willing to die for them. I am willing to die for their happiness.”
Leto leaned closer, her voice filled with tender strength. “Merina, my darling… that is your mistake. You are part of that happiness. You are their light, their love. Don’t cast yourself aside as if you are separate from the joy they feel.”
Merina managed a weak chuckle through her tears, her hands trembling as she wiped her eyes. “I’m going to die anyway, Mother... I don’t want to trouble everyone for my inevitable demise.”
Leto shook her head gently, her eyes brimming with affection. “You’ve always been like this… both of you,” she said, glancing between Merina and Pacificus. “Always taking everything on your shoulders, too afraid to ask for help. But asking for help isn’t being a burden, my children. It’s a refusal to give up. Take these words from an old woman who has lived many years—Merina, my child, let us help.”
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Hyakinthos, Artemis, and Apollo stood just behind the door, holding their breath as they listened to the heart-wrenching conversation unfolding inside the room. Their eyes were wide with shock, the weight of Merina’s condition settling heavily on them. Each word they overheard only deepened the knot of fear in their hearts. The realization that Merina's life was slipping away struck them like a blow, a truth that had been veiled by hope now revealed in its stark, devastating reality.
Cassandra, held securely in Hyakinthos's arms, could feel the shift in his embrace. His grip tightened around her small frame, not out of fear for her, but out of the overwhelming sorrow he felt for her mother. Cassandra knew, with a clarity far beyond her years, the reason for his silent distress. In every vision she had glimpsed, not once had these three turned their backs on her mother. They would always come forward to help—no matter the cost. And she had seen the cost. One of them would lose their life because of it.
Her small heart ached with guilt. Was it her fault? She knowingly sealed their fates by orchestrating this event, by allowing them to overhear the truth of her mother’s condition? She closed her eyes tightly, searching through the swirling visions in her mind for a way to undo what was already set in motion. One life to save another… was that truly the right decision? Doubt gnawed at her tiny soul, her thoughts heavy with the weight of what might come.
When they returned home, she pretended to be asleep, her small body limp in her mother’s arms as Merina carried her to her crib. The soft scent of her mother’s skin, the faint rhythm of her weakening breath, all pressed against Cassandra’s senses. She wanted to stay in this moment, to let go of the future and just feel the warmth of her mother’s embrace. But she knew too much. Her visions never left her mind.
Moments later, the atmosphere of the village shifted. Excitement rippled through the air like a rising wave. A shout broke the stillness:
“THEY ARE BACK! THE MEN ARE BACK! THE WAR IS FINALLY OVER!”
A woman’s voice pierced the air, and soon after, a chorus of cheers erupted. The village buzzed with an electrifying joy. The war, which had claimed so much, had finally come to an end. The men were returning.
Cassandra lay still in her crib, her small fingers clutching the edge of the blanket, listening to the distant cries of relief and celebration outside. The joy of the village was palpable, echoing in every corner of the orphanage and spilling out into the streets. The sound of carriages being loaded up, the chatter of women and children preparing to greet their loved ones, swirled around her.
The anticipation was thick. She could hear their excitement—those men were brothers, sons, fathers, and husbands. The war had taken so many, and now, finally, they were coming home.
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Outside, Pacificus stood apart from the crowd, his eyes scanning the scene as he watched the women and orphans rushing toward the carriages pulled by sturdy bulls. His posture was strong, but there was a quiet sorrow in the way his gaze lingered on the people around him. He saw Leto being guided by her many children, her frail form perched atop the carriage, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
After a moment, Pacificus turned his attention to Merina, standing a short distance away. She looked down at the ground, her once bright eyes clouded with sadness. The joy of the returning men didn’t reach her. There was a heaviness in the way she stood, her shoulders hunched slightly, as though the weight of her condition pressed down on her more with each passing second.
Pacificus approached her slowly, his heart breaking at the sight of her suffering. He reached out, gently cupping her face in his hands, lifting her chin so that their eyes met. The love in his gaze was undeniable, a raw, desperate kind of love that begged for more time. Without a word, he leaned in and kissed her, softly at first, then with more urgency, as though that kiss could bind her to him, keep her alive just a little longer.
“I love you,” he whispered against her lips, his voice trembling with emotion. “I love you. I love you… and I want you to live.” He kissed her again, his forehead resting against hers. “So please, my love… give me the chance to save you.”
Merina stood still, her lips parted slightly, her breath uneven. She couldn’t look at him, the pain too deep. She felt his love, his desperation, but her heart was torn between the desire to stay and the acceptance of her fate. Her hands trembled as she lowered her head again, the silence stretching between them like an unspoken plea.
“...”
He called her name, softly, a whisper of hope. “Rina?”
“...”
“Rina?” His voice cracked this time, the fear of her silence tightening his chest.
Finally, her voice broke the stillness, fragile and wavering. “All... right...” she whispered, barely audible at first. Then, with more strength, though her voice trembled, “Pacy… please… save me.”
Pacificus let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His heart swelled with a fierce determination, his hands gripping her arms as though to anchor her to this world. “I will,” he promised, his voice low but filled with resolve. “I will save you. No matter what it takes, I will save you.”
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Then Cassandra saw it—a new thread, shimmering in the tangled tapestry of fate. But this one was different, more complex than any she had seen before. It glimmered with a strange, elusive light, harder to read, harder to grasp. The thread twisted and looped upon itself, knotting and weaving with others in ways that made her head spin. It wasn’t just one destiny—it was many, all interwoven, all converging on a single point.
Her vision shifted, and she found herself amidst a series of flashes—disjointed but vivid. An inventor, working tirelessly in a dimly lit workshop, sparks flying as he crafted something unknown yet powerful. The piercing cry of a newborn echoed in the distance, filled with both life and sorrow. She saw a giant standing tall, his shadow stretching across a barren land, his face filled with weariness and anger. A slave, shackled and beaten, yet defiant, his eyes burning with a fierce determination to survive. Then, an elven woman, her delicate face contorted with heartbreak, sobbing as she called out for her father, her voice filled with unbearable grief.
And then, amidst it all, a god—furious and seething. His divine roar shattered the heavens as he called out a single name, his voice filled with venom, as if casting a curse.
“PACIFICUS!” the god bellowed, his voice reverberating across the skies, shaking the very fabric of the world.
But it wasn’t just him. Cassandra heard it again, and again, from different voices, each one echoing her father’s name with varying tones. Some called his name with fear, their voices trembling with terror as though Pacificus were a force they could not control. Others spoke with reverence, as if he were a hero, a savior worthy of worship. There were those who called him indifferently, his name merely passing through their lips as if it held no weight. And then, others called his name with an aching, desperate love.
The name "Pacificus" echoed far and wide, across the great desert, where the sun scorched the land into oblivion, and over the tumultuous, raging storm of the unnamed sea, where waves crashed like thunder. His name rippled through the lands of giants, where towering beings spoke it with both respect and dread, and it reverberated in the realm of demons, where monstrous voices hissed and whispered it, filled with malice and curiosity. His name was everywhere, chanted in a never-ending loop, as though the very world had come to revolve around him.
“PACIFICUS! PACIFICUS! PACIFICUS!” they chanted—gods, mortals, creatures of every kind—each time his name was spoken, the faces shifted and blurred, the voices changed. Some were filled with hope, others with rage.
“SAVIOR! MURDERER! MONSTER! HUMAN! SLAYER! ABOMINATION! MORTAL!”
The words twisted together like the tangled threads she had seen, interweaving, overlapping, until they became a single, chaotic cry. It was overwhelming, a cacophony of emotions and judgments, all swirling around her father’s name. Cassandra’s head throbbed as the chanting grew louder, more intense, pressing against her mind like a thousand voices screaming all at once.
Then, the vision shifted once more, and she saw something that made her blood run cold. Herself—standing in the center of it all. Her small, fragile body surrounded by shadows, dark and menacing.
Her breath hitched, and a shiver crept down her spine as her gaze met theirs—one hundred and eight men, their eyes glinting with hunger, their stares filled with a lust that turned her stomach. She had seen this vision before, too many times to count, but each time it filled her with the same bone-deep terror. They weren’t just men; they were kings, priests, men of power and authority. And they all looked at her the same way, like she was something to be claimed, to be used.
Cassandra’s heart pounded in her chest, a familiar dread settling in the pit of her stomach. She knew their names, each one etched into her mind like a curse. These were not ordinary men—they were rulers, priests of high standing, men who would stop at nothing to take advantage of her gift. They didn’t see her as a person. No, to them, she was a vessel—a means to an end. They wanted her for what she could give them, for the power that flowed through her veins, for the long life she carried, and they wanted her to bear their so-called successors, to pass on that legacy to their children.
She could feel their eyes crawling over her, every gaze dripping with greed and desire, as though they had already claimed her. Her heart raced, her skin crawling under the weight of their stares.
Is this my fate? she wondered, her throat tightening with fear. In all her visions, this nightmare was where it always ended. She could never see past it. Every time she tried, it was as if the future stopped here, as if she wasn’t meant to live beyond this moment. The thought clung to her like a shadow—would she never see the age of twenty? Would this be the end?
But more than the fear of death, it was the thought of being trapped by them that terrified her. The men, with their lustful eyes, their hunger for power and immortality, wanted to use her—to take away her freedom, her life. They wanted to make her a pawn in their games, a tool to create long-lived kings, to stretch their reigns beyond the natural order.
Cassandra clenched her fists, the familiar weight of despair settling in her chest. To say she feared this fate was an understatement. It was her deepest terror, the nightmare she could never escape.
End of the Prologue