Pacificus cradled his beloved daughter in his arms, her small frame secure against his chest. The warmth of her tiny body brought both comfort and sadness to his heart, a tender reminder of what he was about to leave behind.
"Cassie," he murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile moment. His eyes, heavy with the weight of his upcoming journey, locked onto her innocent face. "Please… perhaps it is silly of me to ask this of you, a baby… but, please, Cassie, take care of your mother while I’m gone."
Her response was quick and clear, her voice small yet filled with wisdom far beyond her years. "I will, Papa."
"Cassie…" he asks, hesitantly. "Yes, Papa?" she answered, her large, soulful eyes looking up at him with trust.
"How long will I be gone on this journey?"
A long pause lingered in the air, thick with uncertainty. Cassandra, usually confident in her visions, hesitated. Her brow furrowed, as if peering into the unseen threads of destiny but finding only knots and tangles. "I… I don’t know, Papa." Her tiny voice wavered, full of confusion and a hint of fear. "Your thread in the tapestry of fate seems to… move a lot. It’s confusing, Papa. I really don’t know what will happen to you."
Pacificus’s heart clenched at her words. "I see," he said quietly, trying to hide his own unease for her sake.
But it was Cassandra’s turn to seek reassurance. Her small hand reached up, clutching at his shirt, her eyes searching his face for comfort. "Papa," she called, her voice barely a whisper.
"Yes, dear?" he answered, his heart already aching at the thought of leaving her behind.
"You… you will come back, right?"
He looked down at her, his resolve hardening, though the shadows of uncertainty still lingered. "Of course," he promised, his voice steady, yet inwardly, doubt gnawed at him. But for her sake, he would face anything.
Merina watched them from across the room, her heart twisting painfully as she observed the scene. Bitterness welled up inside her, an uninvited guest gnawing at her insides. She felt it in the pit of her stomach, the raw sting of her own fragility. Her eyes, glassy with unspoken sorrow, reflected the love between father and daughter, and yet… the ache of her mortality sat heavy within her. She was the source of this burden, this mission that tore them apart. She felt like a weight around their necks, dragging them into a desperate fight to keep her alive. The bitterness festered, but alongside it was something else. A small flicker of warmth. The knowledge that her family—her beloved Pacificus and their precious Cassie—would go to such unimaginable lengths to save her stirred something deep within her. It was impossible to ignore the quiet joy that flickered through the bitterness, knowing she was loved so fiercely, so completely.
But even so, the sorrow did not fully leave her. She felt the heavy price of their love and the dark uncertainty that clouded their future. Yet, in that moment, the only thing Merina could do was be grateful that her family was willing to face the world for her sake.
As Merina sat on her porch, her nimble fingers worked carefully, weaving the threads of cloth meant for her beloved husband and infant daughter. The soft rhythm of the loom was soothing, a gentle comfort in her otherwise heavy heart. The fabric slowly took shape, each thread infused with love and the hope of a future she feared might slip away. Her eyes momentarily drifted to the horizon, catching sight of movement in the distance.
A visitor.
A carriage crested over Pacificus's farm, drawn by two mighty oxen whose hooves thudded rhythmically against the earth. The oxen's powerful forms glistened in the late afternoon sun, their muscles rippling as they pulled the rugged carriage forward. The wooden wheels creaked as they rolled, accompanied by the faint rustle of hay and leather. At the reins sat a robed man, his posture relaxed yet firm as he steered the beasts onward. A wooden staff lay by his side, well-worn from years of use. On his lap sat a young girl, her bright, innocent smile shining as she gazed up at him, her eyes full of admiration.
“Daddy, Daddy,” the girl called out, her voice filled with bubbling enthusiasm, “how did you become a wizard?”
The man chuckled softly, his laughter warm and paternal. "You need to become a scholar first before you study wizardry, little pumpkin," he replied, his tone playful but instructional, as though he had answered this question many times before.
"Is Mommy a wizard too?" she asked, her wide-eyed curiosity impossible to resist.
“Of course,” he said with a grin, his hand lightly brushing her hair. “Everyone can become a wizard, pumpkin. But now, get off my lap—you’ve gotten heavier since the last time I saw you.”
The girl frowned, clinging tighter to him, her small arms wrapping around his waist. "No, Mama says you'll disappear again if I leave your side," she said, her voice quieter now, a hint of worry creeping in.
The man's smile faltered for just a moment, a shadow passing through his gaze. He chuckled again, though this time it carried an undertone of melancholy. “I’m not going anywhere, pumpkin. Never again.”
From the carriage, another voice called out, soft yet firm, with an unmistakable presence. "We’re here, dear."
The man tensed slightly, feeling a familiar chill run down his spine. His grip on the reins tightened for a brief moment. “Asteria…” he began, turning toward the woman seated beside him, “when did you start calling me 'dear'?”
Asteria, with her sharp eyes and playful smirk, tilted her head ever so slightly. "You mean I can’t be sweet to my dear husband for once?" she teased, her voice dripping with honey.
The man, Perses, laughed nervously. "Y-you weren't like this when I left, Asteria... Are you really my wife?"
She gave him a sly smile, reaching out to grip his chin, her fingers cold against his skin. "Shut up and put the oxen there," she commanded, her tone playful yet firm.
Perses’s relief was palpable, his lips curling into a grin. "Oh… so you are still my wife," he muttered under his breath, just as Asteria pulled his face closer to hers. She leaned in, her breath warm against his ear as she whispered, her voice suddenly dropping to a sultry tone.
“You’ve been gone for more than six years,” she murmured, her lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Six long years I’ve waited for you, and as my husband, it’s your responsibility to keep me happy… and satisfy my desires. You better prepare yourself, Perses,” she added with a playful bite to his ear, “because I’ve been starved for more than six years.”
Perses’s eyes darkened with amusement and lust, his voice dropping to match her teasing tone. He kissed her neck, his lips grazing her skin before he leaned close to her ear, whispering back with a smirk, “I’ve been holding my urges for years… You’d better prepare yourself in bed, you damned tramp.”
Asteria's eyes flashed with mischief, her hand tightening its grip on his face. Their gazes locked, a lusty grin spreading across her lips as she taunted him. “You’d better not disappoint me,” she said with a challenge in her voice, her eyebrow arching provocatively. “We’ll see if you last more than a minute this time.”
Perses laughed under his breath, his grin never fading.
Meanwhile, in the background, a woman with dark, sunken eyes and large, tired bags beneath them dismounted from the carriage. Her gaze flickered with clear disdain as she watched the couple, her expression one of disgust. She wrinkled her nose, her lips pressed into a thin line as she silently hopped down from the carriage, clutching a small bag tightly in her arms.
Without a word, she began walking toward Merina, who sat weaving clothes on her porch, her back straight and her fingers moving swiftly over the loom. The woman’s worn face betrayed her exhaustion, but she moved with a quiet, determined grace. The stark contrast between the loud, teasing banter of the couple behind her and the quiet diligence of Merina was palpable as she slowly approached, her eyes narrowing in focus.
Merina’s smile softened as she greeted her sister. “Hypatia,” she said warmly, her voice touched with a tinge of curiosity. “What brings you and Asteria here?”
Hypatia, her once luminous eyes now dulled and rimmed with the red evidence of sleepless nights, stared back at her with a gaze so piercing it seemed to cut through the air between them. The heavy bags beneath her eyes only accentuated the weariness, but there was no mistaking the fire behind them. Anger smoldered there, quiet but unmistakable.
“Mother Leto told us,” Hypatia replied, her voice cold and sharp. “Why didn’t you tell us, Merina?”
The words struck Merina like a slap, causing her to flinch. The chuckle that escaped her lips was weak, fragile, like something that might shatter under the weight of the conversation. “I didn’t want to bother anyone, Hypatia... I... I just wanted to—”
“Enough excuses, Merina,” Hypatia interrupted, her tone steady but cutting, each word landing with precision. She reached into her bag, pulling out a small, neatly bundled parcel, and handed it to her sister. “Here, sister. Use this to help your husband save your life.”
Merina looked at the offered bag, her confusion evident. “What are you talking about, si—” Her words trailed off as her eyes widened in shock, staring at the contents inside. Her breath hitched, hands trembling as she touched the magical threads. They shimmered faintly, imbued with a subtle glow that hinted at their immense power.
“Sister, these are... I can’t accept this,” Merina protested, her voice breaking as she tried to push the bag back.
“Oh no, Merina,” Hypatia responded with grim determination. “You are going to accept it.”
“But I can’t,” Merina insisted, her voice almost pleading. “Sister, do you even know what these are?”
“Magical threads,” Hypatia said flatly. “Yes, I know what those things are.”
“H-how did you even manage to get these?” Merina’s voice wavered, barely above a whisper.
For a brief moment, Hypatia’s face twisted into a look of disgust. “My master gave them to me,” she spat, her voice laced with bitterness.
A silence fell between them, heavy and thick. Merina’s gaze softened as understanding dawned. “Oh…” She glanced at her daughter, still cradled in Pacificus’s arms, and asked hesitantly, “He’s still alive?”
Hypatia nodded but looked away, as if turning her face from an ugly truth. “That filth also brought a slave with him.”
Merina’s lips parted in shock. “Oh… Oh no. Is he still... Ahh, uhm... you know.”
“Yes,” Hypatia replied darkly, her expression hardening. “The lecherous old man has been trying to get between my legs ever since I was a child… And his advances have become more unhinged and... creepy lately.”
A shudder ran through Merina’s body. Her eyes filled with worry as she asked, “Oh, sister... A-are you all right? He didn’t try to touch you, did he?”
Hypatia smirked, but it was a bitter, sardonic expression. “I won’t let him, sister. Don’t worry about me... though I can’t say the same for his slaves.”
“Slaves?” Merina’s voice cracked as she repeated the word. “There’s more?”
Hypatia nodded. “Yes… One man and two women... or should I say two girls... Those poor children.”
A wave of revulsion washed over Merina. She clutched her chest, feeling the weight of the revelation. “Oh... that’s horrible. Even nobles don’t keep slaves…”
Hypatia sighed, shaking her head as she looked at her sister with a weariness that went beyond mere exhaustion. “Oh, dear sister... They do keep slaves. They simply refer to them as servants because they don’t want to be labeled as slavers.”
Merina’s brow furrowed. “Aren’t servants paid?”
“What’s the difference?” Hypatia retorted, her voice tinged with a grim cynicism. “They give you just enough money to eat and rent, but not enough to improve your life. They bind you to contracts—contracts attached to your soul, binding your very actions. It’s slavery, dressed up as a profession.”
Merina’s face paled. Her lips trembled as she whispered, “Oh... oh no... Hypatia, don’t tell me...”
Hypatia’s gaze darkened further. “Yes, sister. Unfortunately, I am one of those servants.”
The words hit Merina like a punch to the gut. Her eyes darted back to the bag of magical threads. “Sister, you need these threads more than I do. You could sell them to buy your contract back.”
Hypatia chuckled, a sound filled with bitter irony. “Even if I sold those threads, sister, it wouldn’t be enough to pay that pig back. Why do you think he gave them to me in the first place? No, sister… You need these more than I do.”
Merina’s mouth opened to protest, but the words caught in her throat. “But, sister—”
Hypatia silenced her with a raised hand. “I will find a way, sister. Don’t worry about me.”
The frustration and guilt in Merina’s voice deepened as she looked at Hypatia. “Sister, I—”
“I said don’t worry.” Hypatia’s voice was firm, but not without warmth. Her piercing gaze softened just a fraction as she regarded her sister. “Seriously, Merina, you should worry about yourself more. You’re the one who’s dying, not me. Gods above, you are hopeless sometimes.”
Merina’s throat tightened. She knew Hypatia was right, but that didn’t make the weight of her guilt any lighter.
"Well, obviously," came Asteria’s sharp voice as she approached the two women, her footsteps brisk and sure. She carried a bag in one hand, her movements quick and unceremonious. Without preamble, she shoved the bag into Merina’s hands. "Here, you idiot."
Merina blinked, startled, and instinctively opened the bag. Her eyes widened at the sight of its contents. "Wait a minute... these are—?"
"Potions," Asteria cut in, her tone brisk. "Use them."
Merina’s immediate reaction was to protest, her sense of pride and guilt surfacing all at once. "Sister, I c—"
"Oh, don’t you dare give me excuses, Rina," Asteria shot back, her eyes narrowing. "Don’t even start."
Merina swallowed hard, glancing back into the bag. "These things are expensive…"
"I know," Asteria replied, crossing her arms with a huff. "I made them. How do you think I managed to fund my research while taking care of my daughter all these years?"
Hypatia, standing nearby, eyed Asteria with a mixture of disgust and envy, her gaze darkening at the admission. The two sisters couldn’t have been more different—Asteria’s sharp tongue and fierce independence clashed with Hypatia’s bitterness, and in that moment, the contrast was stark.
"But—"
"Rina." Asteria’s voice softened as she reached out and took Merina’s hands in her own. There was warmth in her touch, and for once, Asteria’s usually blunt demeanor was tempered with sincere emotion. "Sister, listen to me," she said, her eyes searching Merina’s with a rare tenderness. "I don’t care about gold or silver. I don’t give a damn about riches. Those things can be replaced… but you? You can’t be replaced." Her grip tightened as if willing her words to sink in. "So, gods above, please… use those potions."
Merina’s lips trembled, the overwhelming gratitude swelling in her chest, almost too much to bear. Her voice was soft, thick with emotion. "Th-thank you... both of you." She looked from Asteria to Hypatia, the weight of her sisters' sacrifices pressing heavily on her heart. The potions glimmered in the light as if carrying the very essence of their love and concern.
She held the bag close to her chest, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. In that moment, the strength of their bond was palpable, and though words seemed inadequate, Merina knew her sisters understood how deeply grateful she truly was.
----------------------------------------
Cassandra watched her aunties with wide, curious eyes, her gaze lingering particularly on Hypatia. A mischievous glint sparkled in her expression as if she knew something the others didn’t—perhaps the threads of fate had already shown her what awaited Hypatia. She smiled to herself, but said nothing.
"By the way," Asteria broke the silence, her voice playful as always, "where is your brat?"
"Cassandra is with her father," Merina replied casually.
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
"Pacificus?" Asteria raised an eyebrow with a grin, the playful smirk on her face unmistakable.
"Of course, whose child do you think it is, you damn woman?" Merina shot back with a mock glare.
Asteria feigned a thoughtful expression. The pause between them stretched, filled with unspoken banter.
"..."
"..."
"Is he big?" Asteria finally asked with a sly grin, her voice dripping with innuendo.
Merina couldn’t help but chuckle. She threw a knowing glance at Hypatia before responding, "He’s huge," she said with a mischievous smirk, holding up her fingers to indicate a rather exaggerated measurement.
Hypatia immediately groaned and covered her face with her hands, mortified. "Ugh," she muttered, rolling her eyes in frustration. "We’re really talking about this?"
Asteria flinched, her eyes widening in disbelief. "No, no, no," she protested, waving her hands as if to banish the mental image. "It can’t be that big! There’s no way it would fit."
Merina’s laughter bubbled up. She smiled devilishly, clearly enjoying her sister’s discomfort. "A tall girl like me needs a big man," she teased, leaning in slightly. "Though I’ll admit... we can’t do it every night like we used to."
"Oh gods," Hypatia groaned again, burying her face deeper into her hands. "We’re seriously discussing this?"
Merina reached out and patted Hypatia’s arm, her tone now more playful than teasing. "You should talk to men more, sister."
Hypatia shot her a sidelong glance, still unimpressed. "Ugh... You and Mother Leto both. Does marriage automatically make women this perverse?"
"Aren’t you into girls?" Asteria chimed in, her voice light and curious. "Or are you just into your experiments now?"
Hypatia sighed deeply, her shoulders slumping as if the weight of her own words burdened her. "To be honest..." She hesitated for a moment, then exhaled slowly. "I need a break. I’m tired. My heart and soul are getting tired from the academy, from everything."
The air between the three sisters shifted. The playful atmosphere evaporated, replaced by a subtle tension. Asteria and Merina exchanged a glance, their faces softening as they realized the depth of Hypatia’s confession. Her voice had cracked slightly, the frustration and weariness seeping through her words.
"Sisters..." Hypatia continued, her eyes downcast, "I think I’m losing my passion."
Silence settled around them, heavy and uncomfortable. Asteria’s playful grin faded, and Merina’s teasing demeanor vanished. They both understood—Hypatia’s struggles went beyond academic fatigue. It was the slow erosion of the dreams she had once held dear, the weight of years spent pushing forward with little reward, little rest. Her exhaustion wasn’t just physical, it was emotional, spiritual.
They sat with her in that quiet moment, knowing words of comfort weren’t enough, but their presence might be.
Merina glanced at Cassandra, noticing the spark of mischief still dancing in her daughter's eyes. Her expression softened as she turned back to Hypatia, but the weight of the conversation remained. "Your master’s slaves," Merina ventured cautiously, "what will happen to them?"
Hypatia’s eyes darkened with an overwhelming sadness. Her gaze seemed to focus on some distant point as if lost in her own thoughts. "Only the gods know at this point," she replied with a heaviness that settled in her voice. "It’s maddening, really... I feel terrible for them, but also so... helpless. Knowing there’s nothing I can do." She paused, her lips trembling slightly. "It doesn’t help that the two girls... look like me."
Asteria and Merina shared a glance, a chill creeping up their spines at Hypatia’s words. The thought of the young girls, trapped in the same wretched existence as their sister, left a bitter taste in their mouths. Merina’s hand instinctively tightened around the fabric she had been working on, her knuckles pale as she processed the implications.
"H-how about the boy?" Merina asked cautiously, her voice barely above a whisper. "What does he look like?"
Hypatia was silent for a moment, the words seeming to catch in her throat before she answered. "He’s quite handsome, I guess," she said, her tone flat and emotionless, as though she were commenting on something trivial. "He looks like a sailor—tanned skin, light frame. Maybe that old swine plans to take him for some stroll along the Great River or something." Her expression soured as she added, bitterly, "Gods, I hope that pig drowns."
"Handsome?" Merina’s brow furrowed slightly, her curiosity mingling with concern.
"Yes," Hypatia responded with the same deadpan tone, her face as still as stone. "Though... I did feel sorry for them, especially the two girls. Who knows what that pig was thinking, keeping them so close."
A heavy silence fell between the three women, the weight of Hypatia’s words sinking deep. The image of those young slaves lingered in the air, haunting their thoughts like an unwelcome specter. Asteria, for once, had nothing witty to say. She shifted uncomfortably, her normally sharp and playful demeanor muted by the gravity of the situation.
Merina’s heart tightened, a mixture of sorrow and helplessness filling the space where words failed. She stared at her hands, the soft cloth between her fingers now forgotten. The faces of Hypatia’s master's slaves, especially the girls, floated in her mind—innocent, terrified, and trapped.
Hypatia’s voice, though emotionless, carried an unmistakable ache, an exhaustion that went beyond mere fatigue. It was the weariness of someone who had seen too much and could do too little.
"By the way, Rina," Asteria said as she pointed toward the child in Pacificus's arms, "is that your baby?"
Merina smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Yes," she replied with pride. "That is Cassandra."
"Oh," Asteria murmured as she and Hypatia approached Pacificus, their eyes drawn to the tiny bundle in his strong arms.
Asteria leaned in close, studying the child’s features with fascination. "She looks just like her father," she remarked, her voice tinged with amusement. "They even have the same hair and eyes."
Hypatia, standing beside her sister, nodded absentmindedly, her gaze fixed on Cassandra’s delicate face. "She has Rina’s face, though," she added thoughtfully, her eyes narrowing in concentration. "How old is this ch—"
Suddenly, Hypatia felt an icy chill crawl up her spine. Her breath caught in her throat as her gaze locked with Cassandra's heterochromatic eyes—one red and one violet. But it wasn’t the colors that unnerved her. No, it was something deeper, something far more unsettling. There was a strange glint in those mismatched eyes, a sharpness far beyond the innocent curiosity of a baby. Hypatia stiffened, unable to tear her gaze away, as she realized those were not the eyes of an infant, but of someone much older, someone far too knowing.
The amused, calculating look in Cassandra’s eyes sent a shiver through Hypatia’s very soul. Her heart thudded in her chest, and for the first time in years, she felt a raw, unexplainable fear.
"M-mi-mischievous, isn’t she?" Hypatia stammered, forcing a trembling smile, her voice faltering as she struggled to compose herself.
Cassandra, still nestled in her father’s arms, let out a soft, eerie giggle. "Eheheheheheh," the sound came, childlike yet unnervingly mature, as though the baby found some private joke endlessly entertaining.
"How cute!" Asteria exclaimed, entirely unaware of the chill that had gripped Hypatia. She leaned in closer, her face lighting up with delight at the baby’s laugh.
Meanwhile, Hypatia’s forced smile remained plastered to her face, though her legs shook uncontrollably beneath her dress. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something deeply wrong, something off about this child. She listened to the baby’s laugh—a cackle, almost—and her fingers trembled, her mind racing with questions she didn’t dare voice.
"M-me—M-Merina," Hypatia stammered, her voice barely audible as her gaze darted back and forth between her sister and the grinning baby in Pacificus’s arms.
"Yes, Hypatia?" Merina asked, her voice calm and oblivious to her sister’s distress.
Hypatia swallowed hard, her eyes flicking once more to Cassandra, whose grin had now spread wide—unnervingly wide. It was a smile far too big for a baby’s face, as though the child were savoring some private amusement that no one else could understand. Hypatia’s skin prickled with a crawling sensation.
"Y-your b-b-baby..." Hypatia’s voice quivered as she struggled to form the words.
"Yes?" Merina responded with a soft smile, entirely unaware of the fear gripping her sister.
Hypatia’s gaze flickered between her sister and the baby, a look of sheer defeat and terror settling on her face. The way the baby’s eyes followed her every move, with that unnerving grin, made her feel like prey being watched by a predator. "Sh-she l-l-l-looks cute... I guess."
"Thank you," Merina replied, beaming.
Hypatia swallowed again, her mouth dry, before turning sharply on her heel. "I-I-I-It was nice seeing you again, sisters. G-goodbye," she muttered, her voice shaky as she quickly walked away, trying her hardest not to break into a full run. She could still feel Cassandra’s piercing gaze on her back, the child’s eerie laughter echoing in her ears.
Asteria, completely unfazed, chuckled and looked down at the child. "Aren’t you a smart little thing," she cooed, reaching out to tickle Cassandra’s belly.
Cassandra let out a gurgling giggle, her baby voice breaking into an unintelligible babble. "Waahaaaaahagaaah," she squealed, her grin still wide and gleaming with delight.
"Gods above! That is adorable!" Asteria declared, her eyes sparkling with joy.
"Waahaaaaahagaaah," Cassandra repeated, her laughter bubbling over again, though her gaze flickered with a knowing amusement that sent another shiver down Hypatia’s spine as she hurried away.
----------------------------------------
As night fell, the temple of Vesta came alive with the warm glow of lanterns, casting a soft light across the gathering. There was a somber yet joyful atmosphere as the men, weary from their time away at war, finally returned to the embrace of their families. The air was thick with the scent of food and burning incense, mixing with the sound of laughter and quiet tears. Brothers and fathers reunited with their loved ones, sharing in the joy of reunion and the quiet sorrow for those who had not made it home.
In the midst of it all, Merina and Pacificus stood together, cradling little Cassandra. She wriggled in her father’s arms, her curious eyes wide and bright as she gazed around at the unfamiliar faces. The men of the village gathered around, their voices low but filled with warmth as they greeted the new mother and admired the child she held.
“She looks just like her father,” one of the men remarked, a broad smile spreading across his weathered face as he leaned in to take a closer look at the baby.
“She’s going to be tall, no doubt about it,” another said with a chuckle, nodding toward Pacificus. “With parents like you two, she’ll be towering over all of us in no time.”
There were a few murmurs of agreement, but what surprised most of the men wasn’t Merina becoming a mother—after all, she and Pacificus had been courting long before the war—but the sight of the newly built temple on Pacificus’s land.
“I expected this to happen, honestly,” one man said, gesturing toward Merina and Cassandra. “But why a temple here? Brother Pacificus, isn’t this your land?”
Pacificus, standing tall beside his wife, gave a small, reassuring smile. “Don’t worry,” he said, his voice calm and warm. “I don’t mind. In fact, it’s quite nice. I spent my childhood alone on this farm... now that I have company, I won’t be so lonely anymore.”
As Pacificus spoke, Cassandra suddenly reached her tiny hands out, her fingers curling toward a familiar face. “Umauma!” she babbled, her voice full of excitement.
From the crowd, an old woman stepped forward, her face creased with age but her eyes twinkling with affection. It was Leto, her smile broadening as she reached for Cassandra. “Hello, Cassie,” Leto cooed, gently lifting the baby from Pacificus’s arms. She cradled her with the ease of someone who had held many babies in her time. “Cassie, meet your grandpa Lelantos.”
At the sound of his name, an elderly man stepped forward from the shadows. Lelantos, though old, had a sharpness in his eyes that belied his years. His gaze fell upon Cassandra, studying her with a thoughtful expression. His twin sister, Leto, gave him a knowing look.
“You’re right, sister,” Lelantos said, his voice deep and gruff but full of affection. “This one is smart.”
Cassandra giggled, her tiny hands reaching out to grab at Lelantos’s beard, her laugh infectious and bright.
Lelantos chuckled softly, his weathered hands patting her tiny back. “I've only been gone for five years,” he said, a note of regret in his voice. “And yet this family has already grown. An old man like me... I regret missing so much.” His eyes turned to Pacificus, filled with warmth and unspoken wisdom. “Young man,” he said, his tone shifting to something more serious. “This may be the last time you’ll spend with your wife. Treat her well.”
Pacificus’s throat tightened, the weight of Lelantos’s words pressing heavily on his heart. “Thank you, Father,” he replied, his voice low and steady, though the emotion behind it was undeniable.
Lelantos gave a firm nod, his gaze never wavering. “Don’t worry, young man,” he said, his voice softer now, filled with a quiet promise. “We’ll take care of them while you’re gone. I’ll stake my life on it.”
“Father Lelantos,” Pacificus began, his eyes shining with gratitude, “you don’t have to do this.”
But the old man simply grinned, a playful glint in his eyes despite his age. “Why not?” he chuckled. “I’m old, yes, but I still have enough life left in these bones to protect my family. It’s the least I can do.”
Pacificus hesitated, his brow furrowed with concern. “But, Father—”
Lelantos waved a hand dismissively, his laughter warm and full of life. “Don’t worry about me, young man. I may be old, but I’m not that old.” His smile softened as he glanced at Cassandra, now resting contentedly in Leto’s arms. “Besides, I’d like to see this little one grow up a bit more before I leave this world.”
The old man’s words hung in the air, heavy yet filled with hope, as the night deepened around them, the flickering lanterns casting long, peaceful shadows across the temple grounds.
----------------------------------------
Inside the warm, dimly lit hut, the sound of distant celebration echoed faintly from the temple grounds, where the temple continued to celebrate the men’s return and the end of the civil war. The laughter and music felt distant, almost muted by the intimacy of the quiet space Merina and Pacificus now shared. The couple stood close, their eyes locked in a silent exchange of emotions too deep to fully express. The flickering candlelight cast soft shadows across their faces, adding a sense of serenity to the moment, though it was tinged with the bittersweet knowledge of the journey that lay ahead.
“Rina… I—” Pacificus began, his voice heavy with the weight of unspoken thoughts.
Merina, with her quiet grace, smiled softly, placing a gentle finger against his lips. “Pacy, I know,” she whispered, her tone filled with certainty. “I know… I know you’ll return.” Her words were firm, yet tender, filled with a love so strong it left no room for doubt. Leaning in, she gave him a slow, lingering kiss, her lips warm and reassuring against his. "I know you will."
With a quiet sigh, she pulled back and reached for something nearby. She handed Pacificus a simple yet elegant bandolier, each stitch meticulously crafted.
“Rina?” Pacificus asked, his brow furrowing as he examined the item in his hands.
“I made it for you,” Merina said with a soft smile, her voice calm but purposeful. “Hypatia gave me some magical threads… Each pouch has the capacity to fit one of your farmhouses.”
“A spatial bag,” Pacificus breathed in awe, tracing his fingers over the smooth material. The craftsmanship was impressive, and the magic imbued in it was palpable. “I’ll need to thank her before I leave.”
Merina chuckled softly, the sound light and sweet. “The only problem with spatial bags is that they get heavier the more items you store inside.”
“Even so, it’s incredibly useful,” Pacificus remarked, already marveling at the potential it held for his journey.
“Indeed.” Merina nodded, her hands brushing his as she helped him fasten the bandolier across his chest. “Let me help you pack, my love. Your journey will be long.”
Pacificus reached out, placing his hands over hers. “Rina…” he began, his voice low and tender, as if the words were too fragile to say aloud.
She smiled up at him, her eyes filled with understanding and strength. “It’s okay, Pacy.” Her voice was gentle but steady, and as she spoke, she pulled a small glass bottle from the folds of her dress. Inside was a delicate blue flower, glowing faintly in the dim light, its ethereal beauty casting a soft blue hue over her fingers. “I have you with me.”
Pacificus’s heart swelled as he recognized the flower. He reached into his own pocket and pulled out a similar bottle, this one holding a vibrant red flower that shone just as brightly. “Yes… I too have you with me,” he said, his voice thick with emotion as he looked into her eyes, the connection between them unspoken but undeniable.
With a quiet understanding, the couple began packing Pacificus’s belongings, working in comfortable silence. They carefully folded the tent they had used on their journey to the Ever Resting Forest, their hands brushing together as they placed it into one of the bandolier’s enchanted pouches. Foods like hardtacks and pemmican were neatly stored, along with spices and cooking utensils, each item a reminder of the life they had shared and the simple comforts they cherished.
Pacificus placed his greatsword into one of the larger pouches, along with seeds and vegetables from their farm. The sight of so many items vanishing into the small pockets, swallowed by the magic of the spatial bag, left both of them in quiet awe.
“Can I fit a person inside?” Pacificus asked with a curious glint in his eye, the question half-joking but laced with genuine wonder.
Merina chuckled, shaking her head gently. “You can,” she replied with a playful smile, “but I wouldn’t recommend it. There’s no air inside those pockets.”
“Oh… I guess I can’t put plants inside either,” Pacificus mused, his brow furrowed as he considered the limitations of the magic.
Merina’s smile widened as she looked up at him. “I’ve heard of spatial bags that can store living beings,” she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “But they’re more like enchanted paintings than actual bags.”
Pacificus shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “The understanding of magic continues to elude me, Rina.”
Merina giggled, her laughter light and melodic. “It eludes me too,” she admitted. “But I suppose I’m lucky to have two sisters who are obsessed with magic.”
Their laughter faded into a comfortable silence, the weight of their impending separation lingering in the air like a shadow. Yet, as they stood together, packing for the journey ahead, there was a sense of quiet strength between them, a bond that transcended words and the looming uncertainties of the future. With every item they packed, with every shared glance, they were reminded that no matter the distance or the dangers that awaited Pacificus, they would always carry each other with them.
The night outside remained vibrant with the sounds of celebration from the temple of Vesta, where men, women, and children reveled in the return of peace and the end of the civil war. Inside the quiet, candlelit hut, however, the atmosphere between Merina and Pacificus grew intimate, their world shrinking to the space they shared alone.
“Pacy,” Merina’s voice was soft, almost playful, as she leaned into him. “Do you remember the first time we met?”
Pacificus smiled at the question, the memories of that day surfacing like a warm breeze. “I was just a small child back then,” he replied, his voice low and thoughtful. “Drawing the carriage and selling my harvests in the village.”
“Small?” Merina chuckled, her laughter light and melodic. “You were almost as tall as the adults, even when you were just a child.”
Pacificus blinked, his expression bemused. “Was I? I remember looking up at the adults, feeling so small… especially around the guards. I was terrified of them when I was selling my vegetables.”
Merina’s laughter grew softer, filled with affection. “Yes, you were rather awkward back then,” she said, her eyes sparkling with the fond memory. “That innocence was so endearing.”
Pacificus’s smile turned wistful as he looked at her, his gaze filled with warmth. “Rina, my love… I spent my childhood alone on this farm. I didn’t know how to talk to others… didn’t know how to connect. That was… until you came along.”
Merina’s heart swelled at his words, and without another word, she leaned in and kissed him. It was a slow, tender kiss, but the depth of their emotions quickly turned it into something more. Pacificus responded in kind, his hand gently cupping the back of her neck as their lips moved together with growing intensity. The outside world disappeared, leaving only the two of them, tangled in their shared longing.
The kiss deepened, their breaths mingling as the heat between them grew. Merina’s hands moved to undo the ties of her husband’s shirt, her fingers trembling slightly, not from hesitation, but from the raw emotion coursing through her. Pacificus’s hands mirrored hers, slowly removing the layers of her clothing as if savoring each moment, each touch. The air between them crackled with the energy of their unspoken desire.
With a gentle but firm push, Merina guided Pacificus back onto the bed, her eyes never leaving his. The soft fabric of his tunic fell away under her hands, revealing the firm planes of his chest, the familiar warmth of his skin beneath her touch. She straddled him, her body pressing against his, their breaths coming in short, heated bursts as they undressed each other, piece by piece. The vulnerability of the moment was shared, not just physically but emotionally, as if this act was their way of holding on to each other before the inevitable separation.
Their bodies met, skin against skin, the tension in the air heightening as they moved together. Merina tried to stifle a moan, biting her lip, but the intensity of their connection was overwhelming. Before she could contain it, Pacificus captured her mouth in another kiss, muffling her soft sounds of pleasure with his lips. Their movements were slow at first, deliberate, each thrust a reminder of their love, each touch a plea to forget, just for this moment, the looming distance that would soon come between them.
The warmth of the room seemed to envelop them, their bodies pressed together in a rhythm that was both familiar and desperate. Pacificus’s hands roamed Merina’s back, pulling her closer as if he could somehow fuse their bodies, their souls, so they would never have to part. The sensation of their hips meeting, the shared warmth, the soft gasps and kisses—all of it was a wordless conversation, an exchange of their deepest fears and hopes, their way of saying goodbye without saying it at all.
Merina’s head fell against his shoulder as the intensity grew, her breath hot against his neck as she whispered his name, over and over, like a prayer. Pacificus’s grip tightened around her, his lips finding her skin, trailing kisses along her jawline, her collarbone, as if committing her to memory. Each movement became more frantic, more desperate, as if they were trying to fill the void that would soon separate them.
For one last time, they poured everything they had into this moment, into each other. Their love, their fear, their longing—it all came together in a passionate embrace, a physical expression of everything they felt but couldn’t fully articulate. And as the night wore on, the sounds of celebration from the temple outside faded into the background, leaving only the quiet whispers of their shared intimacy, the sound of their bodies moving together, and the unspoken promise that, no matter the distance, they would always carry each other in their hearts.