In the dimly lit chamber, Lelantos sat beside the small wooden crib where Cassandra, his grandchild, lay with her eyes wide and curious. The shadows danced across his weathered face as he leaned closer, peering at the child who seemed far too wise for her years. He was doing his best to suppress the disbelief that bubbled within him, but he couldn’t help but be amazed by her calm declaration.
“So,” Lelantos began slowly, trying to grasp what he was hearing. “You can see the past… and the future?”
Cassandra’s innocent smile spread across her face, a mischievous glint in her heterochromatic eyes. “Yes, Grandpa. I can,” she said with a tone so casual that it sent a shiver down Lelantos's spine.
“I see,” Lelantos muttered, swallowing hard. His hand instinctively clenched the armrest of the chair, trying to steady himself. The air in the room felt thick with tension, as if her words carried the weight of unseen fates. Leto, his twin sister, who had been sitting nearby, now leaned in as well, her curiosity piqued.
“What does the future bring to this temple, young prophet?” Lelantos asked, forcing his voice to stay calm though his heart raced with an uncomfortable mixture of awe and apprehension.
Cassandra's playful smile dimmed into something more serious, her small lips pressing together for a moment before she spoke. “Tell the girls to stay away from Zus.”
“Zus?” Lelantos repeated, frowning. “The young boy? Why?” His mind raced, trying to connect the dots. Leto, too, furrowed her brow, her eyes now fixed on Cassandra, absorbing every word with intense focus.
“He will impregnate them all if they hang out with him.” Cassandra’s voice was clear, her childlike tone contrasting with the gravity of her words. “I have seen it, Grandpa. The flaw Gaia will give him is that he will be really lustful.”
Both Lelantos and Leto sat in stunned silence for a moment, processing what the young child had just revealed. The crackling of the fireplace seemed louder, the distant hum of the temple’s celebrations growing faint in the background.
Lelantos’s eyes narrowed as he leaned in closer, his voice now barely a whisper. “How old is Zus?”
“He will turn eight next month,” Cassandra replied, her tone matter-of-fact, as if they were discussing the weather.
Lelantos exchanged a glance with Leto, who was pursing her lips thoughtfully. “So, we still have time,” Lelantos murmured. “Time to train him… to make sure he doesn’t blindly follow his desires.”
Both twins nodded in unison, the unspoken agreement passing between them as Cassandra watched, her small smile returning.
‘Good parenting is the best,’ she thought to herself, pleased with their reaction.
“What else, young one?” Leto asked, her voice gentle but laced with concern.
Cassandra tilted her head slightly before responding. “Auntie Hypatia.”
Leto’s eyes sharpened. “What about her, dear?”
Cassandra hesitated, her small fingers fiddling with the edge of her blanket. The room seemed to still as both elders awaited her response. “We need to save her before her master assaults her,” she finally said, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant.
The weight of her words hung in the air like a storm cloud. Lelantos’s face darkened, a deep sigh escaping his lips. “I thought he would be a decent man,” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. “This is my fault.”
“People change, brother,” Leto said softly, her voice filled with understanding. She placed a comforting hand on Lelantos’s arm. “For better or for worse.” She then turned her gaze back to Cassandra, her expression gentle yet serious. “How do we save her, little Cassie?”
Cassandra’s innocent face turned solemn as she looked up at her grandmother. “You are not going to like it,” she whispered.
Leto’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean, dear?”
“Her master needs to die,” Cassandra said plainly, her heterochromatic eyes wide with certainty. “The old Lord of the town will soon be assassinated by his brother. Hypatia’s master will support the brother, and in turn, they will kill all the nobles who supported the old Lord. The nobles will then tax the commoners so heavily… they will kill those who can’t pay.”
A chill crept through the room as Cassandra’s voice, though soft, carried the weight of a tragic future. Lelantos leaned in closer, his expression stern but contemplative. “How can I kill that man?” he asked, his voice a low growl.
“BROTHER!” Leto cried, her hand clutching his arm in shock. “GRANDPA, NO!” Cassandra added, her small voice urgent.
“I’m old,” Lelantos said, his gaze never leaving Cassandra’s. “I am willing to be the sacrifice.”
Cassandra shook her head, her eyes wide. “Grandpa, there is a way to kill him… without you having to do it yourself.”
Lelantos blinked. “Oh? And how is that?”
“We drown him,” Cassandra said simply, as if the plan were already set in motion.
Both twins stared at her, confusion and disbelief etched across their faces.
“I drown him?” Lelantos asked, his voice tinged with doubt.
“No, Grandpa,” Cassandra said patiently. “You shoot his boat while he is collecting river plants for his potions. Make sure there’s a big enough hole to sink the boat.”
Lelantos’s eyes narrowed. “Wouldn’t that kill the sailor in charge of the boat as well?”
Cassandra smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Grandpa. The sailor can swim. Uncle Archimedes will save Auntie Hypatia from drowning, and they’ll grow closer. Eventually, they’ll have a baby named Alexandros.”
The twins blinked in disbelief once again, struggling to keep up with the cascade of information.
“When is this boat ride, young Cassie?” Lelantos asked after a moment, trying to process it all.
Leto interfered, her expression growing more serious. “Young Cassie, you have a power many people—evil people—would gladly kill for. It would be wiser to keep your abilities secret.”
“I know, Grandma,” Cassandra replied sweetly. “But I think we can trust Apollo, Artemis, and Hyakinthos.”
“And your mother, dear?” Leto asked, her voice gentle.
Cassandra’s face scrunched up slightly. “It’s hard to see Mama’s future… because her fate is intertwined with Papa’s thread. Looking at Papa’s future is really confusing. I can’t tell where his thread will go in the grand tapestry of existence.”
Lelantos leaned back, his expression grave. “I see,” he murmured.
“Papa’s upcoming journey…” Cassandra continued softly. “Whether it ends in tragedy or success, it will undoubtedly change the world.”
The twins exchanged another glance, the weight of her words settling between them like an unspoken truth.
“And Hypatia’s upcoming child?” Leto ventured, her voice a little lighter now, trying to break the tension.
Cassandra grinned. “I want him to be my boyfriend.”
“No,” both twins said immediately, their voices firm.
“You are too young for that, Cassie,” Leto added gently but firmly.
“My sister is right, young one,” Lelantos agreed. “You are far too young to be thinking of such things.”
Cassandra pouted, her lower lip sticking out adorably. “But—”
“No buts, young lady,” Leto said, her tone final.
“Okay…” Cassandra sighed, though she quickly perked up again. “But we should prepare for my brother.”
Both twins froze. “Brother?” Leto asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “You have a brother?”
“Yes,” Cassandra replied confidently. “Or at least, I think I do. His future is really unclear, unlike most of my visions.”
“And what does he look like, young one?” Lelantos inquired, his curiosity piqued.
“He has elf ears,” Cassandra said, her voice soft with wonder. “He’s kind of small. He has black hair and black eyes like Mama.”
The twins exchanged a glance, their expressions mirroring each other’s growing suspicion.
“Lelantos, brother,” Leto said slowly. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Lelantos sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his weathered face. “Well… he is a young man, on a journey alone and lonely… I wouldn’t be surprised if he… does the deed with someone else.”
Cassandra’s face flushed red, and she pouted fiercely. “NO! MY PAPA WOULD NEVER DO SUCH A THING!” she protested. “THEY ARE MAKING MY BROTHER RIGHT NOW!”
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Morning arrived with the soft glow of dawn spilling through the windows, casting gentle golden light across the temple. Inside, the air was still and quiet, save for the soft sounds of Cassandra being fed by Leto. The baby nestled comfortably in her arms, eagerly eating the soft cereal, her tiny hands occasionally reaching out for more.
“They are late,” Lelantos grumbled, his voice low and thoughtful as he leaned against the doorframe, eyes scanning the horizon.
“Let them enjoy themselves a little longer, Brother,” Leto replied calmly, brushing a crumb from Cassandra’s cheek. There was a tender understanding in her tone. “They’re likely doing their best to cope with the inevitable… their separation.”
Lelantos let out a slow, resigned sigh. “Understandable.”
Time passed, and with it, the gentle morning gave way to the brighter light of day. Finally, from the room where they had slept, Pacificus and Merina stirred, the weight of the world already beginning to settle on their shoulders. They woke in each other’s arms, their embrace filled with unspoken sorrow, neither willing to let go, as if holding on would keep the looming separation at bay. Merina clung tightly to her husband, her face buried against his chest, and Pacificus responded by holding her just as close. They both knew what today meant. It was a day they couldn’t escape, no matter how long they lingered in each other’s warmth.
Merina dressed first, slipping into a simple white tunic that flowed around her like soft linen waves. The garment was modest, practical, but still elegant in its simplicity, fitting her with a quiet grace. She moved to help Pacificus dress, her hands steady as she guided him through the process, though her fingers trembled slightly, betraying the emotional storm she fought to contain. She helped him with his scapular, ensuring the engraved tree of Gaia and Thanatos was aligned perfectly on his chest, a symbol of the gods who had marked their lives so profoundly.
But Merina had more planned for her husband. Pacificus, surprised, watched as she prepared a small shrine before the sacred flame of Vesta, lighting incense and bowing her head in prayer. Though Pacificus did not follow the faith of Vesta, he remained silent, respectful, and reverent. He knew how much this meant to his beloved, and so he kneeled quietly, listening as her whispered prayers floated like soft smoke around them. This moment was hers, a final blessing, a quiet plea to the goddess for his safe return, though both knew there were no guarantees.
When the prayer was complete, Merina rose and returned to him. The quiet resolve in her eyes was unmistakable as she began to dress him for the journey ahead, each piece of his gear carefully fitted to him. His boots and pants, made of thick, durable leather, were snug against his legs, protecting him from the rugged terrain. His cloak, also leather, would shield him from the elements, its dark folds heavy and strong, practical in its design. The layers of leather armor that Merina secured to his body were thick, built up piece by piece to ensure his safety, even if it meant sacrificing some mobility for protection.
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The ritual was intimate and familiar to him, though this was his first time experiencing it firsthand. This was a tradition among warriors and their spouses—a solemn, quiet moment where they dressed their beloved for battle, a way of offering both their love and their acceptance of the uncertainty that followed. The final piece of his attire was his wide-brimmed hat, reinforced with leather and wood to protect him from both the sun and potential blows. As Merina fastened it, her fingers brushing his brow one last time, she leaned in to give him a final embrace, her arms wrapping tightly around his waist. This was their last shared touch, their final kiss, a moment suspended in time where all their love and sorrow seemed to blend into one.
In her hands, Merina held a single blue flower, while Pacificus carried a red one. The flowers, simple yet vibrant, symbolized their love, fragile yet enduring. With one last breath, Merina opened the door for her husband, her heart heavy but her resolve unshaken.
But as the door swung open, they were not alone.
Standing before them were six figures. Lelantos and Leto, their faces marked with quiet understanding, stood at the forefront, ready to offer their wishes for the journey ahead. Leto held Cassandra gently in her arms, and the baby’s wide eyes shone with innocence as she was returned to her mother. But it wasn’t the twins who surprised the couple—it was the three figures beside them.
Barely teenagers, Artemis, Apollo, and Hyakinthos stood with solemn expressions, their youthful faces still soft with the blush of childhood. Artemis, her dark hair cascading down her back, stood tall and poised, her sharp eyes filled with determination. Apollo, golden-haired and bright-eyed, had a calmness about him that belied his youth, his hands resting at his sides, ready to support them in any way they could. And Hyakinthos, beautiful and feminine, stood quietly beside them, his presence like a gentle breeze—soft but unwavering.
"We will take care of Mother Merina, Big Brother," Artemis said softly, her young voice carrying the strength of her resolve. The young girl stood tall, her eyes fierce with determination, offering Pacificus the reassurance he needed in this moment of heartache. Behind her, Apollo and Hyakinthos both nodded firmly, their expressions mirroring her commitment.
Pacificus felt a surge of warmth swell in his chest. These children, not yet fully grown, had already shouldered responsibilities far beyond their years. He looked at each of them in turn, his heart heavy with gratitude. “Thank you,” he replied, his voice barely more than a whisper, though the sincerity behind his words was unmistakable.
Then a soft voice broke through the moment. "Papa," called Cassandra, her small arms reaching toward him.
Pacificus's heart tightened as he lifted his daughter, cradling her with a tenderness that spoke of how much he cherished these fleeting moments. He kissed her forehead, breathing in her scent, as if trying to memorize every detail of her tiny face, her gentle smile. Finally, he handed her back to Merina, his fingers lingering as he did so, reluctant to let go.
"I will return," Pacificus vowed, his voice thick with emotion. His gaze locked with Merina's, and in that shared moment, the weight of his promise hung heavily between them. "I promise I will return."
Leto, standing nearby, stepped forward and patted Pacificus's shoulder, her eyes filled with maternal warmth. "Stay safe, young man," she said softly, her voice full of encouragement and affection.
Pacificus smiled at her, grateful for her support. “Thank you, Mother,” he replied, the word feeling right on his tongue, as though she had always held that place in his heart.
Then Lelantos stepped forward, his hand outstretched, offering Pacificus a bottle. The flask shimmered in the sunlight, its intricate glasswork catching the light. It was a beautiful creation, clearly made by the hands of a master craftsman, its shape elegant, and the glass delicately engraved with swirls and symbols that spoke of magic.
"Take this, young man," Lelantos said, his voice gentle but firm. "It’s an enchanted bottle, given to me by a noble I befriended during the war. It never runs out of water. You’ll need it, especially when you reach the great desert of the south."
Pacificus's eyes widened with gratitude and surprise. "Father, I can’t—"
But Lelantos cut him off with a gentle chuckle. "Oh, don’t refuse, young man. Trust me, you’ll need it more than I ever will now." His smile softened as he pressed the bottle into Pacificus’s hands. “Stay safe, young man.”
Pacificus nodded, humbled by the gesture. “Father Lelantos… thank you. I will.”
With that, Pacificus took a deep breath and began his journey. His feet moved hesitantly at first, as if his heart and body were fighting every step. His eyes darted back toward his family—toward Merina holding Cassandra close, toward Leto and Lelantos, toward Artemis, Apollo, and Hyakinthos, all standing together, watching him leave. Each step felt like a weight, heavier than the last, as though he was walking away from everything that mattered.
He stopped by the sacred tree—a tree that had grown remarkably in such a short time, its trunk thick and sturdy, its branches swaying gently in the breeze. He had planted its seed only months ago, a gift from the gods, and now it towered over him, offering its bounty of fruits that looked like pinecones. Without thinking, Pacificus began to collect them, his farmer’s instincts guiding his hands. These fruits, sacred as they were, held a significance beyond nourishment.
Standing beneath its towering branches, Pacificus glanced one last time at the farm. His farm. But it was no longer just his—it had become a sanctuary, a home for so many. The walls that now surrounded the land were not just barriers; they symbolized protection, security for the families who had found solace within them. Orphans, men, women, children—people who had once been lost and alone, much like he had been—now called this place their home. And it had all begun with Merina, with her love, her care. The thought filled him with pride, but also a deep ache.
A smile tugged at his lips as he took it all in—his family, his friends, the growing community. He had been so alone once, but now… now he had an entire world waiting for him to return. It was more than he had ever dared to dream.
Turning back to the sacred tree, Pacificus closed his eyes and pressed his hand against the rough bark. "Divines," he whispered, his voice barely audible as the breeze stirred around him. "Please… watch over them while I’m gone."
As if in answer to his prayer, a gentle gust of wind swept through the branches, rustling the leaves, and Pacificus felt it brush against his face, cool and soothing. It felt like a blessing, a quiet affirmation that the gods had heard him. He smiled, his heart a little lighter.
With one final breath, Pacificus took another step forward. And another. His journey had only just begun, and already, his heart ached with the longing for his family. But he pressed on, knowing that every step brought him closer to keeping the promise he had made—to return, no matter what it took.
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His journey took him south, a path winding through endless stretches of dirt road and scattered wilderness. The landscape around him gradually shifted—the familiar fields of his homeland fading into dry, sparse terrain as the distant mountains began to loom ahead, promising the trials he would have to face. He knew this would be a long and grueling journey, and though his resolve remained firm, a creeping uncertainty had begun to settle over him.
There was one problem. A simple but enormous one.
He didn’t know where he was going.
Pacificus clutched the map in his hand—a worn and tattered piece of parchment that Merina had prepared for him before his departure. The edges were frayed from use, and the ink had smudged in a few places, but the general layout of the world was there, roads twisting like veins through towns and cities he had never visited. But even with the map, he could not make sense of it. The roads on paper seemed to twist and turn in ways that didn’t match the real-world paths he walked upon. And worse, he had no skill in navigation.
He sighed in frustration, glancing up from the map to the road ahead, which stretched endlessly toward the horizon. He had been following this road for hours—days, even—hoping that it would somehow lead him where he needed to go. But doubt gnawed at him constantly. What if he had already taken a wrong turn? What if he was heading deeper into unknown lands, away from his goal?
To make matters worse, several merchant caravans had passed him on their way north—long lines of wagons pulled by horses or oxen, guarded by burly mercenaries, their weapons gleaming in the sunlight. Some merchants waved to him in passing, offering friendly nods or curious glances, while others barely acknowledged him, too preoccupied with their own journeys. Each time, Pacificus felt a twinge of hope that maybe, just maybe, he could ask them for directions, even help.
But when the moment came, when the opportunity was right there in front of him, his courage failed him.
He approached the first caravan slowly, his steps hesitant, trying to catch the eye of one of the guards or drivers. His heart raced, and his palms began to sweat as he neared. The words were on the tip of his tongue—a simple question for directions, perhaps even a humble request for a ride. But as he opened his mouth to speak, something in him froze. His throat tightened, and no sound came out.
He passed by in silence, lowering his gaze to the ground, feeling the heat of embarrassment rising in his chest. He told himself it wasn’t the right moment. That he could ask the next group. But then the next one came, and the same thing happened. And then again.
His lips remained sealed, the words trapped inside him. He couldn’t bring himself to ask for help. It was as though an invisible barrier held him back—a mixture of pride, fear, and the deep-seated belief that he would be an inconvenience to others. What if I bother them? he thought. What if they think I’m a fool for not knowing the way? His thoughts spiraled into self-doubt. He began to imagine the sneers or dismissive glances he might receive for asking something so simple. And worst of all, the weight of feeling like a burden gnawed at him.
Pacificus had believed, after all these years with Merina, that he had finally learned how to speak with people. Her kindness had opened him up to the world, had made him feel more comfortable in his own skin. But now, alone on the road, he realized just how deeply ingrained his shyness was. Without Merina by his side, the familiar anxiety returned. He felt lost—both in direction and within himself.
His hand clenched the map tightly, crumpling the edges as frustration welled up. He stared down at it again, hoping some clarity might emerge from the mess of roads and symbols. But none came. He sighed deeply, folding the map and slipping it into his pouch, deciding to continue walking along the road, wherever it might lead. If I just follow this path long enough, I’ll find something. Or so he told himself.
As he walked, the sun beat down relentlessly, its rays hot against his back. The road stretched on, with only the occasional rustle of wind in the trees and the distant clatter of hooves to break the silence. Each step felt heavier, not just from the weight of his gear, but from the growing sense of isolation.
In his heart, Pacificus knew he would eventually have to face this inner battle. If he couldn’t muster the courage to ask for help, then the journey ahead would only become more difficult. But for now, he pushed the thought aside, focusing on the road before him, and the hope that, eventually, the way forward would reveal itself.
As night descended, the cool air replaced the heat of the day, and Pacificus’s tired feet carried him to a sight he had hoped to see—a caravan resting for the night. The wagons were circled like a protective ring, with their beasts of burden tied safely within, a common formation for merchants traveling through potentially dangerous lands. Flames from the campfires flickered in the distance, casting warm, dancing shadows over the tents that had been erected. The merchants and guards sat around, sharing stories and cooking their evening meal, the scent of roasting meat drifting toward Pacificus, making his stomach churn with hunger he hadn’t realized he had.
But as he approached, hopeful that he might find some direction or perhaps even a moment of companionship, his path was abruptly blocked by the sharp shaft of a spear. The tip glinted in the firelight, the steel head unwavering as it barred his way.
“State your business,” came the voice of the man holding the weapon. He wore chainmail that clinked slightly as he shifted his stance. The man was smaller than Pacificus, but covered in metal from head to toe, a seasoned guard who likely had seen many encounters on the road.
Pacificus opened his mouth, but the words stuck in his throat. His heart raced, and his mind went blank. “I... ahh... uhmm,” he stammered, his voice barely audible over the crackling fire and distant murmurs of the camp.
The guard’s expression hardened. “If you don’t have any business, then leave,” he said, his tone more threatening now, the spear remaining firmly in place.
“I’m sorry... I... ahh... umm... I...” Pacificus fumbled for words, his shyness overwhelming him once again. His mind was a storm of thoughts, each one collapsing before it could form into coherent speech. He cursed himself silently for not being able to manage such a simple task.
The guard gave a skeptical glance to his companion, another armored man standing nearby, watching the interaction with mild curiosity. The second guard stepped forward, lowering his spear slightly, as though assessing Pacificus more closely.
“Are you a warrior, perhaps?” the second guard asked, his voice more neutral but still wary. He took in Pacificus’s size and the way his leather gear clung to his broad frame. Pacificus was easily taller and larger than either of them, and it showed.
“N-no... I’m actually a farmer,” Pacificus answered, his voice still shaking. He wasn’t lying, but even he knew how ridiculous it must have sounded. Someone of his stature didn’t exactly fit the image of a humble farmer.
The first guard raised an eyebrow, incredulous. “Someone as huge as you... is a farmer?”
Pacificus nodded quickly, feeling a blush creep up his neck. “W-well, yes. I am a farmer,” he repeated, unsure how else to explain it.
The second guard crossed his arms, clearly still skeptical but somewhat amused now. “Then what is a farmer doing out here, wandering at night?” There was a hint of curiosity in his tone, but also a lingering caution.
“I... uh... I just...” Pacificus’s hands fidgeted with the strap of his cloak, his nerves nearly getting the better of him. “I just want to ask for directions,” he finally managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper.
The two guards exchanged a glance, the tension in the air easing slightly. The first guard lowered his spear, though he still kept it close, just in case.
“Directions?” The second guard’s tone shifted, becoming more casual. “Oh, why didn’t you say so, big guy? Where are you trying to go?”
“S-south,” Pacificus stammered. “I’m looking for a place in the south.”
The guards exchanged another look, their expressions growing more serious. The first guard leaned on his spear, his face thoughtful. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, big guy,” he said, shaking his head. “The south is called the Sand Ocean for a reason. It’s nothing but dunes and wind out there. Nothing lives in that desert. Not for long, anyway.”
Pacificus hesitated, but his resolve remained firm. “I... I need to go there,” he replied softly, knowing that his words likely sounded foolish to them. But it was the truth—he had no choice.
The second guard scratched his chin, considering him for a moment. “Well, if you’re dead set on it, just follow this road. You’ll come to a town eventually. Head to the tavern with a sign that says ‘Mercenary Guild’ on it. You can probably buy yourself a better map there, or even hire a guide to take you through the desert. Trust me, you won’t want to go into that place alone.”
“Th-thank you,” Pacificus said, relief washing over him. “I... I must take my leave now.”
“Good luck, big guy,” the first guard said, giving a nod. “Stay safe out there.”
Pacificus offered a quiet nod in return, grateful but still flustered, before turning to walk away. The darkness swallowed him as he left the campfire’s glow behind, his footsteps growing fainter.
As soon as he was out of earshot, the guards resumed their conversation. “Do you believe that?” the first guard muttered under his breath. “A guy that size, claiming to be a farmer? He’s huge! My instincts were screaming at me to run when I saw him.”
The second guard chuckled, still watching the road where Pacificus had disappeared. “He’s definitely not a farmer. Maybe a crestfallen knight or some kind of ex-soldier. Who knows? I’m just glad he left us alone. Only a madman would travel alone at night like this... unless he’s looking for trouble.”
“Or trouble’s looking for him,” the first guard added, shaking his head. “With the wildlife out here, not to mention goblins, trolls, or even the ents... he won’t last long alone.”
“Yeah,” the second guard agreed, a frown forming on his face. “Those things are everywhere these days.”