The Forgotten Times

This is a story I've been working on for a month. It's not completed and it's only 9 chapters long so far. Please excuse the flaws of mispelling, mixups, or gramatical errors. I'm still editing it but I can honestly tell you that editing a 42pg. story is an incredible pain. I'll edit the chapters on KaW when I do so on my laptop. Please don't spam and leave feedback on the feedback thread. Thanks.
BTW this is a very old story so it sucks and I know. But I'm rewriting it. This is just an idea of what it's like

 

Prologue
 
​Greece; a word spoken for centuries. Ancient Greece; two words full of stories. Many people, when hearing these words, think of the Twelve Labors of Heracles, Pandora’s Box, the Minotaur and the Labyrinth, or countless other legends. Yet still after the Titans were banished from Greece, was a time of wonder. A time where Greece was an island, until the Titans wished to return. A time when demigods towered over the mortals. A time when each god, minor or Olympian, had their own city within a kingdom that would call them patrons.
​The reason this time is not spoken of is, quite simply, because none remember it. The reason none had written about it is because none wish to remember it. For these were dark times of war and sorrow. A time where lives were lost by the thousands, only to be used for battle in endless torment in the afterlife. Normally there is a happy ending for such monstrous stories. There must be if we hear such legends of heroes and love. Honestly, and once more, no one even remembers how the dark times ended. No one remembers who the real first woman was, nor how some monsters from the Forgotten Times disappeared, some reappearing. All we know is that it was a prophecy that began the salvation or destruction of Greece: Apollo’s Olympic Prophecy.
 
 
 
Kingdoms of Gods
 
​The Forgotten Times were wonderful for each Olympian. Each of the known Twelve, plus Hestia and Hades, had their own land. At the center of these lands was the main city and castle of the Olympian it represented. The size of an Olympian’s land would depend on how many minor gods were represented there. Some minor gods were represented in multiple places either because of family relations or being deities of multiple things. This lifestyle was wonderful to all the gods. However, the minor gods presented by Hades were cast to the Underworld with him by Zeus. The minor gods threatened to rebel against Hades, making him furious. Drowned in his reckless spirit, Hades rushed to the river Styx and dipped a ring he created into it. He sold his immortality to the last Titan for the power it would possess. It accepted Hades as its master and consumed his power, multiplying it, giving him three times his original power.
​Hades grew happy about his weapon. He would trick his sons into wearing the ring, telling them of its incredible power. Only Hades knew the secret of the ring, however. If one were to wear it, and they were not a master of the ring, their power would be sucked from them as well as their life. The power would be kept in the ring for the master to use. Slowly the wearer would die as his soul drains from them, unaware that the ring caused their unfortunate death.
 
​Years had passed since the creation of the ring and Hades finally had the power he needed to send forth an army against the Olympians to show they had no right to cast him to the Underworld. He would have vengeance, and make sure that all who went against them would die painfully. This is where the Dark Times began.
 
 
 
Demigods
 
​Demigods were much different in the Forgotten Times than what we have heard. The Olympian demigods towered above all, showing the superiority of their parent. They grew to an average of ten feet. The minor demigods towered to an average of seven or eight feet, while the mortals were normally five or six feet tall. Most things were built Olympian demigod sized to show pride in their ruling gods. This was not a problem for, since many of the gods were not yet married at the time, there were many Olympian and minor gods roaming Greece.
​Another difference is that of age. Olympian demigods were ageless, yet they could die in battle or of illness. Minor demigods were completely mortal but they usually lived longer than mortals, who did not live to more than fifty.
​Olympian demigods had a choice which most took during the Dark Times. They could choose to take the sure path to Elysium through a kingdom’s White Forest, and across the River of Styx. Only through this way could one be given a sure chance of Elysium and be reborn three times if they wished. For an unknown reason, these privileges were taken away over time.

 

Unplanned Sacrifice
 
​The air was cruel. It bit the flesh like a starved lion that had just captured its prey. Andronikos awoke as the sun began to rise in the grey morning. As he saw his father’s golden chariot rise from the horizon he yelled, “Hail Apollo!” His army awoke and returned a half-hearted “Hail, hail!” Andronikos smiled; at least they had some spirit. The fifth battle against Hades was to be fought today. It all seemed so hopeless. The Apollo kingdom had merged its army with Zeus, yet none could help but feel as if they were already dead.
​Andronikos rose as the rest of his army awoke. They starred across the frost-clad landscape in wonder. Nothing was there. The armies gazed at the barren landscape where the kingdom of Hades should have stood. Suddenly, the ground shook. It trembled with such strength; both armies were forced to collapse.
​Gaia opened a crack half a mile away from Andronikos’ feet. His golden eyes starred in amazement as the cities of the Hades kingdom rose straight from the Underworld. Andronikos held his panicked horse, trying to claim it from Phobos’ grasp. A chill went Andronikos’ back at the sight of what lay before him. The gates were covered in blood-tipped spiked, a few bodies of previous mortals and demigods impaled upon them. Seven points made up the top of the gates, which held torches of Greek fire.
​The gates opened, revealing nothing but a dense fog behind them. Andronikos squinted, thinking he saw shapes. Sure enough, a few moments later monsters began to emerge from the fog. Creatures he had never heard of before appeared before his eyes. It was as if a nightmare had become a reality. Immediately he felt the lack of hope; as if Elpis had abandoned him when she was needed most.
​A creature began to walk toward Andronikos’ army and stopped in the middle of the separating gap. Andronikos followed its example. He stepped before the creature, getting a better look at it. He recognized it to be one of the bloodthirsty Keres, Hades’ assassins. He wore a red robe on his pale skin. His eyes were an eerie yellow. His nostrils were nothing but slits on his face which expanded with every breath. Andronikos looked at the Kere’s claws and raised his eyebrows. They were as sharp as butcher knives. The size was astounding and terrifying all at once.
​Andronikos was interrupted from his stare of amazement when the Kere barred its teeth, snarled, and spat right at Andronikos’ face.
​Andronikos looked up in annoyance wiping the saliva off his cheek. He watched the Kere for a few moments, then, in one swift motion, unsheathed his dagger and slit the demon’s throat. It fell with a thud, bleeding green. As Andronikos turned to his army, the Kere began to sink through the ground to rejoin its master.
​Andronikos stood before his fear-stricken army. His mid length hair flowed through Eurus’ bitter wind. He watched his terrified army with pity.
​“Armies of the sky!” he called, “Do not show fear! Do not content our enemies with reverence they owe to the Olympians! This battle may be the last. We can weaken Hades and end this tyranny! Years from now this battle will be remembered; but how? Will they say we conquered? Will they say we ran? Will they say we fell in a match that none could take? I know not, but I do know that they will never say our hearts died! I cannot promise all of you will return to your loved ones. But I can promise you the path of Elysium! This is the day that mortals and half-bloods unify as one sword which shall pierce the malice of the East! For Olympus!” cried Andronikos as did both armies in return. Their hearts grew stronger. They felt that Nike was on their side. Nothing could disappoint them.
​Andronikos rode his horse towards the black army, his army followed. The army of Hades stood still, holding out spears to impale the enemy. Andronikos delivered the first blow. Riding with his bow, he shot three arrows on target.
 
​An hour or so passed as the battle continued. The Zeus army used their customary oak clubs. The Apollo army used daggers, and archery weapons. Andronikos fought with his heart, a cut on his lip and a lash on the cheek from a whip only brought energy to his restless arms.
​Andronikos fought mightily until he stopped, feeling a hand upon his shoulder. He swung and lashed at the opponent but his wrist was grabbed quickly, forcing Andronikos to drop his dagger. He swung his other fist in vain for that was caught as well. Before he knew it, Andronikos was turned the other way, his hands uncomfortably twisted behind him.
​“Calm yourself, brother,” spoke a voice behind him. Andronikos relaxed at the familiar voice, as did his capture’s grip. He turned, only to find his twin, Aiolos, the nimble, son of Apollo. He resembled Andronikos except his hair was a bit darker and he was not so broadly built with muscle. Aiolos and Andronikos were sent by Hermes to the Kingdom of Zeus to grow and claim their crown when they returned to the Apollo kingdom when ready. Apollo sought this fit when their mother died in a raid.
​“What are you doing here Aiolos? You know better than to approach me when I engage in combat.”
​“I am sorry Andronikos. I merely wish to ask who that soldier is.” Aiolos pointed with his dagger at a strange warrior. Good he was, for he recently killed a Kere. No armor wore he. He was clothed in brown leather which bore the emblem of two crossed silver swords upon the chest. His head was helmed in a helmet of silver, covering his entire face. His eyes could not be seen yet he was not blind. He managed to kill each foe. Demigod he was for he towered over the enemy. Olympian demigod he was for he was about eleven feet in size, much taller than Andronikos.
​Yet neither helm nor height impressed Andronikos as much as the skill with the blade. Of all the demigods and mortals on the battlefield, this warrior was the only one with a sword in hand. The blade was bright and shone like the Eosphorus’ star. The hilt was a silver owl with spread wings and white gems for eyes. The soldier’s movements were swift, agile, and effortless.
​“I believe he is a stray son of Ares,” said Aiolos.
​“Nay, nay, for if, you see the sword it clearly bears the emblem of Athena.” Andronikos pondered this a moment. “I do not know, but I should like to meet him after the battle. It looks as if he shall survive.”
​“Very well,” replied Aiolos. He gave a slap on Andronikos’ back and added, “By the by, work on your defense,” and with that he ran off.
​
​Two more hours had passed. The mysterious warrior still fought with strength, though most grew tired. Andronikos always managed to steal a glance of amazement. However, one glance witnessed an event that would alter the course of the future.
​As Andronikos turned to see the warrior, a vicious harpy grabbed the helm of the soldier, attempting to break his neck. Yet the warrior was too quick. He pulled away, his helm slipped off, and he beheaded the she-demon.
​Andronikos stared in shock of what he saw. The warrior had fresh green eyes like the dew-clad grass of spring. The lips were as red as blood, the cheeks a healthy pink. The soldier’s hair, bound high but still reaching the lower back, was pure gold that illuminated in the sun.
​Standing amidst the hideous battle was the most beautiful creature known to mortal or god: Eleftheria. Her parents were unknown but the queen of Zeus found her in Artemis’ forest when she was an infant and raised her until she died. Her husband took care of Eleftheria later. She was now twenty-one.
​Andronikos remembered the day they had met. It was merely four years ago. He was twenty and she was seventeen. He was foolish and careless at the time. Andronikos had heard a beautiful singing voice as he wandered in the garden of Herse in the early morning.
 
“Darkness shall come,
Sorrow shall fill the air,
Screams and cries of despair.
 
Lost loved ones,
Screaming in the night
Will hope return? Perhaps it might
 
Death and darkness,
Screams and cries
Treachery and lies,
Hades’ rise,” Sang the voice. Andronikos wandered around like a child until he saw a standing figure beneath a willow tree.
​At first he believed she was a dryad until he saw her Olympian height. Her hair was straight, curling at the ends at her waist. She wore the many gifts she received from the gods. She wore a gold circlet on her head which had bolds of circling lighting around her head, clearly a gift of Zeus. She was clothed in a dress most likely from Apollo. It glowed like the sun. She seemed to be a walking early morning sunset for her dress mimicked the color of the sun depending on the time of day. On her waist was a simple leather girdle with two crossed silver swords as a buckle, from Ares. On her arms she wore silver bands, on her wrists matching bracelets. They were vines with flowers, from Demeter. She wore no shoes.
​“Aphrodite?” asked Andronikos so foolishly in awe.
​The woman giggled and replied with a slight shake of the head.
​“Then who, if I may ask, is this lovely creature who possesses the voice of an alluring siren?” asked Andronikos.
​“I am Eleftheria, the liberator, adoptive daughter of Hieronymos, and you?” Her voice was pure and beautiful, like a hundred angels singing. It seemed as if the entire world sighed at the sound of her speech.
​“I am Andronikos, victory of a warrior, son of Apollo, heir to his kingdom,” he replied proudly.
​After a few moments of silence, Andronikos added, “If I may ask one additional question, why does one so fair and loved sing of darkness and sorrow?”
​“For those shall one day come naïve warrior,” she replied sadly.
Could this warrior, so strong and skillful, be the graceful, fair maiden that Andronikos loved so dearly? He dared not approach her but he watched her as much as he could, should she need aid.
 
The battle continued and Eleftheria fought well. Unfortunately this achievement would not last long. Eleftheria fought Andronikos turned to see her, but something else caught his eye. Behind Eleftheria, in the distance was a nasty creature. He was similar to a Kere, with pale skin, yellow eyes, and giant claws. But from the waist down he had the tail of a rattlesnake instead of legs. This was Haimon, the bloody, son and king of Hades. He was the result of an affair between Echidna and Hades. Haimon was Hades’ greatest servant, being king since birth.
He set a black arrow on his steel bow. All weapons used by Hades’ highest servants were dipped in the river Styx, to ensure a certain, painful death. For this very reason the bow and arrow did not glisten in the sunlight. Haimon drew his arrow, aimed, and fired.
As Eleftheria fought, she did not realize the arrow was headed straight for her. It moved at a tremendous speed. She was about to bring down her sword upon a wounded harpy, when she cried out of sheer pain. The arrow pierced through her stomach from behind. She screamed and fell. Andronikos would have come for her but he could not move. His legs were pulled back by Phobos and Algea. All he could do was stare at her body, lying limp on the ground. Dead.
Andronikos turned to leave, when he saw something move in the corner of his eye. The body of Eleftheria rose to her feet. She stumbled but then stood tall. Her wound bled terribly, her face filled with agony. Andronikos’ heart rejoiced. Seeing her fight, Andronikos continued as well.
5 creatures appeared in the sky from the Black Kingdom. These were Roc, giant black eagles as large as the great Cerberus. Their talons were as large as grown Olympian demigods. One began to shriek. The sound was unbearable. It was like hearing all the screams of those who had died; shrieks of anguish and pain. The sky army clutched at their ears. But Andronikos heed them not. He was suffering from something else.
Eleftheria was on her knees, one hand on the ground, the other clutching the arrow in her stomach. She breathed loud and heavily, hanging on to dear life. The world seemed to darken around Andronikos. Time slowed in his mind sounds of the battle around him were muffled except for Eleftheria’s breathing. Phobos seized Andronikos in his arms again. Algea choked the Sun’s heir.
In the distance, Haimon drew another arrow aimed for Eleftheria as a Roc landed beside him. A dark figure could be seen dismounting. Andronikos stood in shock as he saw Hades himself dismount.
He wore a dark cape made from the faces dying at the moment in agony, constantly changing. His eyes glowed red on his pale face. His hair was pure black, waving through the air. He wore black armor beneath his cape, constantly ready for battle.
​Hades put a hand on Haimon’s bow and lowered it, muttering something to him angrily. Hades walked over to Eleftheria, who was now gasping for air. He stopped before here. Seeing feet before her, Eleftheria looked up. However, she did not look up in fear; she looked with pure hatred and anger. She painfully tried to grab her fallen sword with her blood-stained hand, on her knees still. Before she reached it, Hades pulled back his arm and swung at her, hitting her in the face. She hit her head against the gates of the kingdom, barely missing a waiting spike. She fell unconscious instantly. Andronikos was furious and began running through the swarm of attacking monsters, desperate to reach his loved one.
Hades picked up Eleftheria and carried her to the Roc. He mounted, securing her on the bird’s neck. The Roc made a horrid shriek and took off, heading towards Hades’ palace. The rest of the Roc followed.
“No!” cried Andronikos. He tried to run after Hades but Aiolos quickly grabbed his arms and held him back. At first Andronikos struggled against his brother’s grasp. But he was forced to stop. He felt weak. The world blurred, time stopped, everything grew dark. The only light of the world he saw had now faded into the Black Kingdom. Andronikos felt faint. Eleftheria would die and he was helpless against it. Andronikos jerked away from Aiolos and fell to his knees. He wept. No more would Andronikos hear Eleftheria's soothing singing. No more would he see her beautiful, perfect smile.
The battle continued around the two brothers. Until the end, Aiolos protected devastated Andronikos from attackers. The sky poured rain. Zeus saw; and Zeus was angry.

 

Hope and Sorrow
 
Thirty years passed since Eleftheria’s death, The Sky arm had lost the battle on that day, never to be redeemed, for Hades had left the war be. He sent no army for the next battle, yet all feared to declare a winner too soon. Hades could strike at will, when no one expected it.
When the army had returned home, Algea seized the kingdom of Zeus in her clutches immediately. Grief had followed shortly after news of the tragedy. Hieronymos, the holy named, king and son of Zeus, was told of the loss. He took it bitterly, for he had not even known of Eleftheria’s leave. He had forbidden her to take any part in the war.
Ever since that day, Andronikos fought for the soul of Eleftheria. He knew she was dead, for none ever survived the cruel depths of the Underworld. It was a place meant for nothing but pain, eternal suffering, and lack of peace. Andronikos remembered her in every battle. She haunted his dreams at night.
Andronikos changed immensely after the battle. He became stern and bitter. He found satisfaction in nothing. He had not even spoken to his own brother since the battle. He wished to be left alone. And so he was.
 
Exactly thirty years since Eleftheria’s doom, Hieronymos took a stroll to the edge of his city. Since he received the news, he had dreams; day and night. Illusions came to him. Nothing he saw was there. His mind was clouded by the lack of happiness he tried to give himself in his hallucinations. Today memories returned to him.
He remembered when his wife returned to this very place fifty-one years ago. He could see her now before him, holding a child in her arms. It was wrapped in a silver cloth, a pendant of white gold on her neck. It was a crescent moon, used as a boy to hold a yellow gold arrow.
Hieronymos’ wife told him she found the child while visiting Artemis’ forest. Artemis herself told the wife the child’s name was Eleftheria, the liberator, and should be kept safe.
Hieronymos sighed at the memory. His vision shifted to a more recent memory. It was his army’s departure thirty years ago. He saw his army of Zeus before him, facing his kingdom. Hieronymos could not recognize anyone who resembled Aiolos’ description of Eleftheria at the battle. He was so sure Eleftheria was in her room at the time.
As Hieronymos thought, a figure stood at the gate to his city. It penetrated his hallucination. He was stunned by the sight. It was Eleftheria. She appeared in a soft glow of light, angelic and graceful, exactly as she had before the troubles of the war started. Her golden hair whipped in the air, her face radiated a smile. It was as if she had never left.
Before Hieronymos could utter a word, Eleftheria collapsed. Suddenly, the vision grew dark. In reality it was a cloudy day, yet indeed before him laid Eleftheria. He rushed over to her. He realized for the first time he saw not what was true, but what he wished was true. Before him laid what was once his radiant daughter.
Eleftheria had her eyes closed and breathed heavily.. She was deathly pale, her once red lips now colorless. She had a long, yet old slit running from her brow to her chin. She wore a grey cloak, now torn and filled with twigs and leaves.
Hieronymos took her freezing hands, making sure she was really before him. Eleftheria would have been thought for dead were it not for her heavy breaths. Her right hand wore a brown leather glove. He held Eleftheria’s hand to his tearstained cheek. Her sleeve fell, revealing her arm. It was covered with many terrible burns; some old and some new. It was evident she had suffered greatly by the hands of her capture.
“I must rest,” uttered a sudden whisper from the exhausted body.
“I will take you to your room,” answered Hieronymos. However, Eleftheria shook her head and insisted on going herself. She attempted to stand but quickly fell back on the ground, unable to summon the energy to stand.
Eleftheria began to breathe heavier. The attempt to stand brought pain to her lungs. She turned to her side, gasping for air. Hieronymos was appalled to see an arrow protruding from her shoulder.
“What has happened to you, Eleftheria?” asked Hieronymos desperately.
A long pause followed. Her breaths became quicker and heavier. Her energy was spent.
“I ran,” came a weak answer after a few moments. “Hades opened his gates to release his army. I was loose and took the chance to escape. A guarding Kere tried to stop me, leaving the mark on my face from his claws–” She suddenly gasped in pain, trying to speak despite her lack of energy. A few moments and she resumed, “Fifteen demon men ran after me. What they were, I know not. One shot me in the shoulder, trying to slow me down.” She paused, as if trying to recall something. “I ran for thirty days, Hieronymos,” she uttered in a painful whisper.
Hieronymos could not believe what he was hearing. He had never thought of his daughter as such a strong person. Yet she required medicine quickly. He asked about the burns first but he received no answer. He only received a simple, “I must rest,” and so he agreed.
Hieronymos carried Eleftheria into her room. It was the only thing that had remained bright and cheerful in this kingdom, for Hieronymos could not accept her death. He had always hoped for her return.
He lowered her on the bed and sat beside her, brushing his warm hand across her cold cheek. She was shaking, gasping. Eleftheria’s eyes remained closed.
 
Andronikos was in the garden of Herse, swinging on a swaying bench. He was deep in thought. What he thought of, no one knew, for he had become secretive and trustless. Suddenly he stood up quickly and went inside. He was walking extremely fast until he ran into someone. It was Narkissa, the numbness of sleep. She was a niece of Hieronymos, for her mother was his sister. She was a minor demigoddess of Morpheus. She had short, light brown hair, with calming hazel eyes. She was said to have the gift of interpreting and perhaps controlling dreams.
“And where are you off to in such a hurry?” she said teasingly.
Andronikos stopped quickly and replied, “I must speak with Hieronymos.” When Narkissa heard this, she lowered her head in disappointment.
“It is Eleftheria, is it not?” she said softly, yet a razor was hidden in her voice. Andronikos stiffened and nodded. No one had spoken to him of Eleftheria since the army had returned. None wished to bring it up.
“You speak of her in your dreams,” she said sadly. “She was a great loss, I deem. I have heard of her beauty and wisdom.” Narkissa had never met Eleftheria. She was born and brought to the Zeus kingdom merely seventeen years ago. Narkissa fell in love with Andronikos yet he never gave her is heart. Though Eleftheria was gone, Narkissa could not gain Andronikos’ love. And so she was doomed to be jealous of Eleftheria to the end of her days.
“He went into her room, with a guest I think. He was speaking with someone,” she answered his question.
Andronikos did not find this strange. Friends from afar had visited, trying to comfort the confused Hieronymos. And Hieronymos had gone into her room many times in his hallucinations.
He came to Eleftheria’s door and heard Hieronymos’ voice. He turned the knob and walked in.
 
“Hieronymos, I must speak with you about–” Andronikos stopped, seeing the unbelievable.
“Eleftheria,” he whispered, seized in shock.
Hieronymos heed him no mind. He was on his knees beside her bed. He did not know what to do for she refused to be healed. One of her few faults was that she never asked for help. Slowly, Hieronymos turned around.
“Andronikos, my good lad, please talk some sense into her. She refuses to be healed. She must be healed!” he yelled hysterically. He walked over to Andronikos with a stern look and put a hand on his shoulder.
“Please,” he said softly.
Andronikos was terribly confused about what was happening yet he did as he was told. He walked to her bed and kneeled, saying, “Eleftheria, help us help you. You may die a painful death without our aid.”
She did not move, but simply whispered, “I fear neither death nor pain. All I fear is to be pitied.”
Andronikos did not know what to answer. All he could say was, “You are not pitied by anyone. It is a fool’s choice not to be healed.”
“Then I am a fool. Besides, this wound is not fatal,” she croaked. She slowly sat up, and ripped the arrow from her shoulder with large gasp. It bled yet she lay down. Hieronymos and Andronikos watched in horror as she poured tears from her closed eyes. The last words they heard her say that day was, “I must rest.”
There was a long pause before Hieronymos replied, “Very well. Let us go Andronikos,” and they slowly walked out of the room.
 
Hieronymos sat at a bench beside the door and buried his face in his hands. Andronikos stood beside him with disappointed look on his face.
“How could I have let this happen?” cried Hieronymos in pain. “As many thought she was dead I had thoughts of what could never happen: her return. Yet here she stands before me now and my thoughts change. Am I evil to think it could have been better if she had died?”
Andronikos sighed and said, “If so, then I am evil as well. Perhaps if she had died, she would not suffer so.” Hieronymos looked at Andronikos with eyes ready to spill tears. He got up and quickly walked away. When he was out of sight, Andronikos took one more glance at Eleftheria. She breathed with struggle, her eyes still closed.

 

Change
 
Many years passed since Eleftheria’s unexpected return. The news of her return had spread across the kingdom but it took a while for people to understand it was not a hallucination of Hieronymos.
A month after her return, Eleftheria walked. It came as a surprise. As Hieronymos was in his study, Andronikos rushed in telling him that Eleftheria had disappeared. Later she was found in the garden of Herse, swinging in the bench. Her unexplained burns had healed. The mark on her face and the arrow’s shot remained as nothing but a scar.
Wounds of the body, you see, heal. But wounds of the mind and heart do not heal as quickly; sometimes they do not heal at all. Eleftheria had not been the same since her leave. She seemed distant, and frightening. She spoke to no one and none spoke to her, fearing what she’d say or do. She never came to meals. Food was put in her room when she was in the garden, but she barely ever ate. Her face remained pale, her rosy cheeks never returning.
As for Andronikos, with the war over he stayed with Hieronymos in the kingdom of Zeus. Apollo had declared him and Aiolos to be ready for the throne but Andronikos refused so he could watch over Eleftheria. And so Aiolos ruled alone.
Eleftheria would always go into the garden every day. She went at sunrise, and returned at sunset. She would sway on her bench, deep in thought. Occasionally, she would disappear for a few days, even months sometimes, but she always returned. Some thought she visited the kingdom of Artemis. Others thought she simply lingered in the palace of Zeus.
Andronikos would watch Eleftheria in the garden every day. He needed to make sure she was alright. One day, he gathered enough courage to speak with her, yet that never happened. As she was turned away, he saw her eyelashes rises. She had opened her eyes. Andronikos stiffened as she slowly turned toward him. His heart seemed to stop. He had never seen her eyes. They were lifeless and cold. She had no pupils, her irises a cold, light grey. They looked like storm clouds on her face. Combined with her pale lips, coal blacked hair, and sharp teeth, she possessed a sinister look; a look of the undead.
Andronikos slowly backed away, Phobos seizing him. Eleftheria turned her head back, resuming her thinking. Hieronymos would know Andronikos approached her. He knew everything that happened to her in the garden. The window of his study had a perfect view of the Garden of Herse, and he watched her every chance he could. He could not afford to lose her again. He feared for her every hour of the day. Who knew what she had been through? Who knew what she thought about? Who knew what cruel things have been inflicted on her?
Oh, but the nights; the cruel dark nights. On the night of Hecate’s moon, you could hear screaming, cries of pain, and sounds of struggle. These sounds of torment came from Eleftheria’s room. Usually, she slept well, but when the moon does not appear because of Hecate, her mind was tortured. None knew why but she struggled against something in her sleep. She tossed, turned, screamed, yet it would not end until morning. Hieronymos would sit in his bed, hearing her cries, failing to hold back his tears. He felt helpless and alone. Could no one hear? Could no one help her?
Yet none knew of what was on Andronikos’ mind. On the moonless nights, he would secretly slip into her room, punishing himself with her screams. He blamed himself for her suffering, and though he could not suffer the same amount, he tortured himself with her pain.
Over time, Eleftheria’s monthly cries ceased. She chose not to sleep on those nights, and so she was left in peace. Yet she still looked distant, never looking anyone anyone in the eyes, speaking to know one. She was changed. From a bright young woman, loved by all, to a pale and distant legend. Yet none knew her side of the story. The truth was she was afraid, and she knew the reason why she should be.

 

A Summon
 
Thirty years passed since Eleftheria’s return. The day was warm as Apollo’s chariot while the Aurai danced about to cool the people. Yet Eleftheria paid them no mind as they tried to pull her away from her deep thought. None knew what went on in her strange mind. She thought of many things yet none seemed to know what they were. She was deep in thought when she suddenly jumped forward on the ground, as if pulled by an invisible force. Her dead eyes were full of fear, hatred, and pain. She looked up at the sky. In her mind she could hear a sinister laugh than none else heard. Hieronymos saw her from his window and ran after her.
“Eleftheria, are you alright?” asked Hieronymos urgently. She painfully nodded in response. However, Hieronymos knew better. Remembering the day she returned, he said, “Come, you must rest in your chamber.” Hieronymos stood from his kneeling position, took Eleftheria’s gloved hand, and walked her inside.
They were near the entrance inside the palace, in the corridor, when Eleftheria looked behind her. She caught a glimpse of a mortal carrying another human in his arms. Hieronymos immediately left her to tend to the ill mortal. The mortal was thing and – if possible – paler than Eleftheria, as if the life was being drained from him. She looked at him, bewildered. Eleftheria caught a glimpse of the Sun’s glimmer reflect on something he wore on his hand. Eleftheria’s eyes widened with fear. Before she could approach, the Aurai took her to her room to help her. However, she ran quickly to her chamber away from the nymphs with a look of dismay, as if she had made a terrifying discovery. And where was Andronikos at this time? Strange guests began to arrive.
 
Six days went by since the mysterious mortals’ appearance. Eleftheria was all right yet she seemed troubled. She hadn’t left the room since. She locked herself in her bedroom, sitting on her bed all day with the curtains closed and the candles off. When Narkissa brought food, knocking on the door, she would receive a sharp answer of disapproval from behind the door.
The sixth day began with a knock. From the other side Eleftheria could hear a voice calling, “Eleftheria? I wish to speak with you if you can.”
Eleftheria recognized the voice to belong to Hieronymos. She unlocked the door and let him in.
He stepped inside, avoiding her cruel gaze. He sat beside her on the bed and sighed.
“Eleftheria, I am having a meeting tomorrow; a very important meeting with people from all around Greece. I wish for you to come if you may. It begins at tomorrow’s noon.”
As always, Eleftheria’s face was expressionless. Yet she gave a simple nod and said she will come. Hieronymos returned with a stiff nod, and so ended the conversation. They were so distant from each other. It had been years since they have spoken as a family.
After Hieronymos left, Eleftheria resumed her thinking yet now she was troubled. Her thoughts had been confirmed. Yet she did not know why Hieronymos wished for her to come. She paced for the rest of the day. What she did not know, was the meeting would test her strength against the very thing that tortured her in the Underworld.

 

The Meeting
 
Noon came and the horn for the convention blew. This was going to be an epic council. Creatures, demigods, and mortals from all around came to represent their kingdoms. Andronikos was surprised to see Aiolos return from the Apollo kingdom. Many were missing for they were unsure whether to betray their kingdom if it was in alliance with Hades.
Eleftheria entered the room. A man caught the sight of her. He was Errikos, work-powered, son and prince of Hephaestus. Errikos had long, black hair with shining light brown eyes. He wore proud armor which he forged himself in the fires of Mount Etna. On his waist he wore a golden axe passed down for generations since the beginning of time. He was loved at his home and by all who knew him. At the moment he was twenty-four years of age. Six more years, and he would be declared king.
Errikos was intrigued by the sight of Eleftheria. Though she possessed a cruel form, he felt touched by her somehow. He found it a cruel beauty, yet beauty nonetheless. Her blackened hair reminded him of the coal he burned at the forge. Her eyes seemed like kind clouds shading him from the hot sun. Her pale skin was like the center of a burning fire in his eyes. He looked at her neck and spotted her moon pendant. He saw the fine craftsmanship worthy of the gods. She was clearly loved.
Errikos walked to Hieronymos asking, “Who is this maiden?”
Hieronymos looked to who he was speaking of and sighed, “That is my adopted daughter, Eleftheria.”
Errikos pondered this for a while, stroking his small beard. At once, his eyes widened.
“Eleftheria, the liberator?” he exclaimed with amazement. “She is well-known in my kingdom; very well-known indeed. I did not know she was still alive but I have read of her in my books of how she had survived the kidnapping Hades had done. None have escaped the Underworld alive… at least… not in the same form.”
Hieronymos was disappointed to hear that she was so famous. This could not be good for her. He sighed and returned, “I wonder sometimes if she truly is in the same form.”
“I know not of that, but it must be a great honor to be the father of a hero.” And with that, Errikos walked away, taking his seat at the council.
Once all the guests settled in their seats, the meeting began.
 
“Fellow creatures of light, I call you to this day to discuss a very important matter. A chance has risen from the depths and it may lead to the end of this war. We have been forced to create our own council, for seeing as how the gods have become less trusting to one another, we must decide for ourselves what is best. With Ares and Dionysus joining Hades, we know not who to trust.
“You may realize that many are missing, and many have come you believe shouldn’t, yet trust me I know what I do. Hera has not sent a group for she believes her husband’s kingdom will fill her place. Hermes is not reliable so it is not a surprise he sent no group. Athena, as you know, refuses to take a side and mix herself into this war, and so she as well sent no group. However, Chiron, the centaur, son of Cronus, has volunteered to take her kingdom’s place. As for the kingdom of Artemis, we were unable to send news of the meeting for our messengers were attacked before sending the news. Many of you are still skeptic of the fact that there are guests from the Ares and Dionysus kingdom, yet do not fear. These were specially taken for they are the rebellion of these kingdoms. They are against the war of Hades and thus have come to settle this.
“Enough of explanations. This meeting has been called because of a simple object that has been found: the Ring of Styx. Spiridion, please present it to us.”
A mortal stood before the council. He was short for a mortal, with a face of fear for the unknown. He possessed no great clothing, nor a badge of high rank, nor even a decent haircut. He was modestly built and even more modestly dressed. It was obvious he possessed neither great amount of money, nor a great amount of turmoil in his life. His rugged, dirty blonde hair did him no justice. His baby blue eyes made his seem younger than his age, yet still pitiful. He was merely a boy of about seventeen. Spiridion was a simple villager from a kingdom not far from here and so he was nothing but a speck of dust to the demigods.
The boy Hieronymos calls Spiridion laid down a black ring before the council. It defied illumination, for it did not shine. It bore a black onyx stone of death on one side. Immediately, the council was filled with awe. The Hephaestus group stared at the amazing craftsmanship. The Aphrodite assembly tried to find beauty in the black jewelry yet not even their beauty-finding eyes could not see any splendor in this awful trinket. Eleftheria was the only one who acted neutral at the presence of the ring.
“Spiridion had traveled from a nearby kingdom. He is a settler in the center of Hestia’s Grasslands. He had come by the ring by chance and had wisely decided to bring it here. Spiridion, would you please tell us of your journey?”
Spiridion stood shyly, looking no one in the eyes. The demigods looked at him as one would look at a stain on clothing. He was nothing to them; not worthy to be in the presence of children of the mighty gods. And yet, Eleftheria found a strong interest in him. He was afraid and yet he bore a fatal weapon, knowing that he could perish either by it or by one who is looking for it.
Spiridion began his story of how he came, “I come from the Grasslands of Hestia,” he said nervously. “A few weeks ago, a tall stranger came into the village I lived in. He wore a black hood which concealed his face. I was afraid for I was alone at the time, it being dust and all. He approached me saying quite simply, ‘I’m dying. I am dying by the hands of this ring. You must take it to the ruling kingdom of Zeus,’ he said he is a son of Hades who had been deceived and thus ran off with the ring so he could rid the world of it. He then uncovered his hood, revealing himself. He looked old and worn, like what you would imagine a hundred year old mortal to look like. He did not tell me his name, but the last words he said were, ‘let no one wear it, you least of all.’
“After he died, I told my friend, Euthymios about the man. We agreed to come here. The quest ran smoothly until the near end. We were attacked by traveling raiders from the Hermes kingdom. Knowing of the rings ability to give the wearer power, I tried it on. Somehow we escaped but I remember not more.” Spiridion sat down, looking down, and feeling down. He did not realize that all but one demigod thought of him as a fool for trying on the ring.
“Spiridion made a mistake by putting on the ring,” began Hieronymos, “It sucked the life out of him quicker than a demigod’s for he is a mortal. Euthymios brought him here and so I treated him.”
“What do we do with it?” asked a rugged voice. It belonged to a warrior from the Ares Cavelands. His name was Adrastus, the courageous, son of Ares. He was the head guard for his king. His red hair was a strengthening touch of discipline. He had trained with the king himself, and so now the king and he were greatest of friends. Yet his golden eyes showed feelings of betrayal, for his great friend became a friend of Hades, the very man who had slaughtered Adrastus’ children, siblings, and mother.
“What shall we do with this ring? None can wear it, thus we can destroy it,” he said.
“But why destroy something so valuable?” came another say. This voice was smooth and calming, like a sprinkle of rain in the late Spring, yet if angered this voice may become more like a raging waterfall. The man who said this was Damokles, glory of his people, son and prince of Poseidon. His life had been great and sweet in life, yet that did not stop him from helping against the neighboring Hades kingdom. All his family was alive, and he was adorned in gifts of his people. He had short black hair, which emphasized his kind blue eyes. Seeing the beauty of love and the death in battle, he learned to find beauty in all things.
“It is a shame to abolish a weapon that can be tamed. are there no other masters?” asked Damokles.
“None that we know of, Damokles,” replied Hieronymos. “As far as we know, Hades and Styx are the only masters of this cruel weapon. This is the exact reason the ring has been used. People do not know it may kill you. And those who know of the risk try to become its master. Yet all fail for an unknown reason.”
There were whispering conversations about this. None knew what to do with it. It was powerful and so tempting. The quiet chatter was broken by Andronikos.
“Eleftheria says it is because only a God can become its master, for one must be immortal.” The room was silent. People were puzzled how she would know.
“Would you care to tell us what you know, Eleftheria?” asked Hieronymos. She simply shook her head for no. Hieronymos sighed and carried on.
“Since we do not know of a way to destroy it safely yet, does anyone else have ideas?”
“Perhaps we can take it to the Demeter Rainforest?” spoke the voice of a young girl. She was she-ram in fact. Out of her light brown hair sprouted ram horns, for she took after her mother mostly, plus her father’s horns. Her luscious green eyes never ceased to show joy in anything. Euthalia, the well-blooming, daughter of Pan was her name.
“I agree with my sister. We have a peaceful kingdom; none would wish to fight it. And its palace is the farthest place from Hades.” This was a man’s voice. It was Panphilos, the friend of all, daughter of Pan and twin of Euthalia. He took after his father, for he was a satyr with green eyes as well. Yet when they were separated from their mother, and their father disappeared, the twins were on their own, traveling about Demeter’s kingdom. Panphilos became protective of his sister, Euthalia and had stayed with her since.
Hieronymos shook his said saying, “It is not a good thing. Hades has many spies in countries of nature. The winds have ears,” he said gravelly.
“Why not send it to my kingdom?” asked Errikos. “The Forges of Hephaestus. We create weapons daily. We can easily defend ourselves.”
“I do now wish to discourage you, Errikos, but I do not believe that is a good idea. I have seen your kingdom with my eyes, and think you would become too interested in Hades’ fine craftsmanship,” said Chiron, the centaur, son of Cronus. He was a young man, for a Titan demigod. He chuckled at the thought of the Hephaestus kingdom giving in.
“And who are you to judge? Do you mock my father’s kingdom? Why?” asked Errikos, hurt. “My kingdom is great you pig! Fight me, you fool!” Errikos suddenly stood up and grabbed the ring to wear it, yet as he began to put it on, in his anger, the ground shook. A dark voice filled the air, clouding the sky. The world seemed red as blood suddenly. Chiron was speaking with his power of the Titans, filling fear into the heart of every creature in the room. Errikos quickly dropped the ring. The warriors of Ares jumped up with their swords, the rest of the kingdoms were terrified. Spiridion clutched at Euthymios’ arms. Eleftheria closed her eyes, shaking, her face full of pain. Her knuckles were white from clutching her seat, gritting her teeth.
“You are the master of the ring, you are its keeper. Pain of the ring is the pain of you. Death of the ring is the death of you. The ring is you and you are the ring. It gives you power and you give it power. The ring is your life, heart, and breath.”
Seeing the chaos Chiron was causing, Hieronymos yelled at Chiron to cease. Yet Chiron did not stop until he had finished. Immediately the hall relaxed. Eleftheria slightly swung forward, as if a pull she was resisting suddenly let go. Andronikos noticed this and put a his hand on hers, worried.
“This, Errikos, is what will happen to you if you believe you can be its master. Are you ready to endanger your life, for, know that we intend to put an end to it,” said Chiron wisely. He looked at Errikos with stern silver eyes, causing Errikos to return to his seat.
“Any other wise thoughts?” asked Hieronymos, tiredly.
“Perhaps in my kingdom? None would think of it being there.” This comment came from Eustakhios, of good grapes, son of Dionysus.
A laugh was heard from the Ares group, “Why would we send it there dimwit? Your father’s kingdom is closest to Hades and fighting for him. Why would we send the ring to you?”
“For none would expect us to have the only thing that could hurt Hades, you ass.”
“I knew the drunks of Dionysus were quick tempered, yet I knew not that they lost what little wisdom they had when they lost it.”
“Wisdom? I shall show you wisdom! Bring that toothpick of a sword and show me what ‘wisdom’ you have with it!”
And so the Dionysus and Ares groups began to fight, vocally and verbally. Other kingdoms took sides, Chiron tried to break the groups apart. He Zeus kingdom simply sat annoyed. The argument took ten minutes until a loud outburst stopped it.
“Silence!” yelled an irritated voice. It was loud, echoing through hallways and ears. The yelling was sharp, thundering, and cruel. It sounded as if a thousand banshees had entered a room, hurting everyone’s ears. The loud explosion belonged to Eleftheria. “Cease your bickering!” she yelled with a hiss, “I am surprised the ring has not been destroyed by your constant chatter! Destroy yourselves and save us our ears! This is precisely the conflict that is tearing Greece apart and stopping us from mending it!”
All were shocked by this. Those from the Zeus kingdom had never heard her voice, besides an occasional whisper. She surveyed the room with her cruel, dead eyes, piercing the soul of all who stood in the way of peace. Everyone returned to their seats, stricken with fear. Who was this woman?
“And who are you, woman?” asked Adrastus, picking for another fight. For it was his nature to look for a battle in any way. “Who are you to tell those of royalty what to do? You are merely a woman of no importance to us.” Eleftheria shrugged but Andronikos, sitting beside her, grew angry.
“You shall not speak to her in such a way!” Andronikos exclaimed.
“And why would an abandoning son of Apollo care?” teased Adrastus.
“She is Eleftheria, the liberator!” The hall grew silent. All were shocked to be in the presence of one so known.
Adrastus stood in shock. “I am terribly sorry, Eleftheria. I did not know.” He bowed his head in respect.
“Sit down, Andronikos!” said Eleftheria angrily. Her voice sounded as if more than one person was talking, yet all the voices were eerie. “This meeting is not about me. It is about the ring of Styx. We have wasted a full hour arguing and fighting with each other. This is a council hall, and not a battle stadium. Hieronymos, could you please lead us to where we left of?”
“Indeed. Thank you Eleftheria,” continued Hieronymos. “As you all have argued. I have realized that the only way to stop the destruction of Greece is to destroy the ring. Yet I know not how.”
“Perhaps we are thinking of it in a complicated manor?” offered Errikos. He stood up to the ring, axe in hand. “Perhaps if I try to cut it?”
Hieronymos nodded, “You may try. Any idea is as good a presumption as mine.” Errikos lifted his axe in hand, and began to bring it down upon the ring.
A chain of events happened. Eleftheria quickly stood and yelled, “No!” Errikos brought down his axe, and struck the ring. His axe bounced off immediately, yet that did not frighten the council. Eleftheria unexpectedly fainted without a sound. Andronikos, Chiron, and Hieronymos, surrounded her, calling her name.
After a long minute, she began to open her eyes. Eleftheria quickly stood up, and began to run away without a word. Everyone was too shocked to follow her. What just happened?
As Eleftheria ran towards her room, she heard faintly Hieronymos saying, “The convention will begin in three days at noon.” She quickly entered her room, slamming the door. She couldn’t believe this was happening.
Eleftheria pulled off the glove from her right hand and began rubbing it nervously.
 
Three days passed since the meeting, and it was continued as promised. All took their seats except Eleftheria. None expected her to come. She had locked herself in her room all three days, opening to no one. None could explain what had happened, and chances are neither could she. Yet none knew that she was afraid. Eleftheria was afraid of what was happening to her, and what will happen to her.
Hieronymos cleared his throat to speak when an unexpected visitor arrived. Eleftheria quickly walked into the room and took her seat beside Andronikos. All looked at her in a way that she could not read. She took a quick glance at Chiron. She managed to see him quickly altering his gaze from her.
“I believe we have established that destroying the ring will be much more difficult than we had imagined,” said Hieronymos. “Yesterday I tried melting it without avail. Does anyone have suggestions?”
All were silent. Suddenly, everyone tensed as Eleftheria spoke in her eerie voice, “I know how to destroy it, Hieronymos.”
“Then please, share us your wisdom.”
“The ring was made by the last Titan, Styx. She will take it back if offered, but with a price. She cannot touch it for it is not part of her world, yet if a mortal brings it to her center pool and gives her his life, she will be able to take it back, for death is her world.”
“Brilliant,” said Adrastus, “All we need to do is capture on of Hades’ minions and take him to Styx.”
“It is not that easy,” replied Eleftheria, “Styx, though the giver of passage to the dead, is not cruel. She does not hold people against their will and so the one who shall sacrifice their life to her and return the ring, must be willing. They must fully give their life without the slightest bit of withdrawal forced upon them.”
The room grew silent. None had expected this to be so difficult. Destroying the ring had seemed like such an easy task. Yet none could now summon their courage to give their life to a Titan they were taught to fear.
“If I may ask,” began Chiron, “How did you come by this information?”
“I know many things, Chiron, yet I do not have the heart to explain,” was her answer, and none wished to question any further.
 
About a half hour of debating whispering had past until Hieronymos finally spoke. “Have we come to an accord of who should so bravely and heroically give their life?”
Eleftheria looked at the mortal named Spiridion. He sat beside his chubby friend, Euthymios. Spiridion looked at his friend nervously, with a look of longing. His light brown eyes wore a look of longing. He clearly wished to say something, but feared the eyes of the judgmental demigods would downgrade him. Suddenly, Eleftheria’s eerie voice was heard.
“Spiridion wishes to say something, if none of you have objections.” Her eyes surveyed the room, witnessing every avoidance of her gaze. None wished to argue with her. She managed to read a look from Spiridion’s face, which said “thank you.”
“I’d like to propose something,” began Spiridion, capturing the council’s full attention. “I would be willing to sacrifice my life for this quest. I have never been thought of more than a mere scrap of flesh. I have never been believed in, nor given the chance to prove myself. But when it comes to being willing, I am loyal and determined. I hold no special physical or mental strength, yet my heart is strong enough to do this. That is, if you will have me.”
And for the first time in Greek history, the demigods smiled at the mere mortal. It was not a smile of compassion, admiring, nor a smile of intoxication. It was the smile of pride, that one who lived on the same earth showed courage of a thousand demigods. It came as a shock to Spiridion. The world he saw in his eyes was clearer, now that he was allowed to see without glaring hatred. A chill of warmth went through is chest and up his spine. It was a sign from his heart that though he had chosen the end of himself, he would not face it alone. And in one small yet meaningful gesture, the entire council separated the segregation in their hearts and gave Spiridion, simultaneously, a kind bow.
“So it is decided,” Hieronymos began. “Spiridion will go, but he will need company. One mortal crossing all of Greece is not something to go unnoticed, and so it is a terrible danger to him. Here comes the easier decision: who shall escort Spiridion? All may choose a presenter of their kingdom, to show they had played a part in this.” A few murmurs were passed through the hall until the volunteers stood forth.
“I, Errikos, son and prince of Hephaestus” said Errikos first, “Of the Mines of Hephaestus, pledge my golden hammer to protect this mortal’s life.”
“And I,” began Adrastus, “Adrastus, son and royal guard of the Ares Cavelands, pledge my spear to protect this mortal’s life,” and he ruffles Spiridion’s hair.
“And I, Eustakhios, son and peasant of Tropical Forest of Dionysus, pledge my thyrsus to protect this mortal’s life.”
“And I, Andronikos, son and prince of the Beaches of Apollo, pledge my bow to protect this mortal’s life.”
“Then count one more bow from the Beach,” added the voice of Aiolos with a smile. Though Andronikos had ignored him, Aiolos never gave up on his brother, and wished to continue their friendship and brotherhood. “I, Aiolos, son and king of the Beaches of Apollo, pledge my bow to protect this mortal’s life.”
“And I,” came a lovely voice from the Aphrodite group. With her head held high she said, “I, Calligenia, daughter and lead guard of Aphrodite’s Tropicana, pledge my whip to protect this mortal’s life.” A shock went through Adrastus’ body. Something began to happen to him that would later alter the means of his actions: love.
“And we,” said Panphilos and Euthalia in unison, alternating what they said as they pledges, “I Panphilos,” said he, “And I, Euthalia,” said she, “Children of Pan of Demeter’s Rainforest, pledge our panpipes to protect this mortal’s life.” said they.
“I shall represent my father’s weary kingdom,” came a voice from the Poseidon cluster. It belonged to Nicolaos, victory of the people, grandson and prince of Poseidon. He was minor demigod height, for his mother was Thetis and his father Damokles, king of Poseidon. Nicolaos had fought as a soldier in the war, helping his people keep hope, for hope was so difficult to come by. His Kingdom was the closest enemy of Hades and, though large, it had a difficult time keeping Hades within his walls. “I, Nicolaos, son of Thetis and prince of the Poseidon Peninsula, pledge my net and trident to protect this mortal’s life.”
“And I, Chiron, the centaur, son of Cronus, and traveler of all kingdoms, shall represent the Quarry of Athena. I pledge my bow to protect this mortal’s life.”
 
All were satisfied. All the kingdoms needed had volunteered to be part of the quest. Eleven companions were to set out on their journey in three weeks’ time. And yet one was none satisfied.
“The Kingdom of Zeus has not been represented. I suggest I go in its place,” suggested a voice. It belonged to none other than Eleftheria who had from the beginning wanted to go, yet now she had a reason too. The entire council thought nothing of this and thought it was a reasonable deal. And yet Hieronymos did not seem to have the same thoughts.
“No!” he yelled, standing, “I forbid you!”
The entire hall grew quiet. Mortified by his own outburst, Hieronymos slowly returned to his seat and sighed, “Come to my quarters at dusk, Eleftheria. We shall discus this in peace. The convention is dismissed.”
And so ended the day’s council.

 

The White Forest

Eleftheria returned to her chamber to rest until her meeting with Hieronymos. As usual, she was lost in her deep thoughts. She could not help but notice Hieronymos’ eyes turn to Chiron after the meeting. He seemed to be asking something and Chiron nodded. She did not like being uninformed.
Eleftheria lay on her bed when a sudden glow of light shone before her. The glow took the form of a man with golden hair, silver eyes, and winged sandals as well as crown. He held a caduceus in his hand. This was none other than Hermes, messenger of the gods.
Hermes had become the protector of Eleftheria after her return. He was her guardian and visited her often, though she mostly ignored him, as she did now.
“You are not wearing your gifts once more,” said Hermes plainly, looking at her scattered godly gifts lying about. After Eleftheria had returned, she lost her faith in the gods, feeling abandoned. The only god she trusted was Hermes, the only person she spoke sincerely to.
“I care not. God Hermes,” said Eleftheria, “What does Hieronymos have planned for me?”
“He plans nothing. He simply wishes you to stay away from Hades. However, I come not to see if you do well. I come to bring you a message.”
“From?”
“Your parents,” he replies. Eleftheria was surprised. She rarely ever received a message from her parents, yet the messages always came through Hermes. Both were alive, yet she was never told their names.
“Can you please tell me who they are? At least who my Olympian is?” asked Eleftheria desperately. However, the answer was always the same.
“I am afraid not. They do not wish for you to know. They say it is for your safety.” Eleftheria sighed. “They also do not wish for you to join the company to destroy Hades. Thus I bid you stay here.”
Eleftheria could not take this anymore. “I am never allowed to go where I please! I am lectured when I stray from the kingdom; I am tormented with looks of pity. You know, once a servant of Hades came into this very room.” Hermes was shocked to hear this. Eleftheria had been keeping secrets from him.
“What did he say?”
“He told me I was being foolish. He asked me why I am always running in place. Why am I never free?” Eleftheria walked to her balcony, leaning against the railing. She starred at the moon, just barely visible as Hecate began to claim it. “Sometimes,” she continued, “I feel as if even Artemis disappeared. As if she no longer watches over me.” A tear swam down her cheek. Artemis was the only goddess she felt attached to. The virgin moon goddess protected her every night until Hecate blocked her. “Every day I see the world outside, how people live their lives as they wish. And I am going to join them. I’m leaving with the party and I will have my freedom. I need to strike a blow at Hades.”
“Eleftheria,” said Hermes, concerned, “Do not go. I beg you. All the gods do.”
“Tell them not to weep for me. I am sure that I wish to leave, and I say this only today, for I shall not repeat myself. Send a message to my parents, no matter who they are, that I am leaving without care of what they think. I am not angry, I simply need to be within the walls of Hades once more and have one more chance. When I was there, I was a prisoner. No more. I shall return and have my vengeance.”
Hermes sighs and picks up the lighting circlet of Zeus from the floor. He walks over to Eleftheria and gently places it upon her head saying, “I am protector of travelers, and I would be more than happy to protect you on this journey. But Hieronymos will not approve.”
“I care not. I shall leave without his knowing if I must,” she returns crossly. “What should I care? You and Artemis are the only ones who ever cared about what happened to me. Your godly king left me to rot in Tartarus!” With that, she took off her circlet and threw it across the room in anger. Hermes remained calm, and shook his head in disappointment. What was the worst part of it was Eleftheria was right. Zeus had abandoned her; all the gods did. They expected her to die and they paid no mind now that their living shrine was alive.
Without another word, Hermes began to glow. The light consumed him until he could no longer be seen. The light slowly began to fade, revealing nothing. Hermes had left.

A knock came from Eleftheria’s door as Apollo began to sink his chariot. As Eleftheria opened the door, she was greeted by the face of Chiron. She knew he was here to escort her to Hieronymos. She felt like a prisoner within her body, taken to the lord of punishment. Eleftheria watched Chiron for a long moment, taking in the details of her escort. His grey eyes were nervous, afraid. His long black hair was bound, revealing his sharp-featured face. His cheeks and chin looked as if they were molded of plastic.
Chiron turned and began to talk towards Hieronymos’ quarters. Eleftheria followed, unwillingly. She looked at the ground, not knowing why she felt such dread, such hatred suddenly. She took in every detail; Chiron’s mahogany horse-half, the dim candles in the corridor, the contrast of her soft steps and Chiron’s clomping of hooves.
They stood before the door, Eleftheria immediately walking in, finding Hieronymos in his chair. She sat beside him, staring at him. His eyes wandered around the floor, apparently he had found something more interesting there than her.
“Hermes tells me you plan to leave,” he finally says, “I expected as much from you. But I have other plans. I have spoken to Chiron, and we both agree that you are not content with staying here.”
Eleftheria grew nervous. She did not like where this conversation was going. Perhaps he knew of the places she’s visited, perhaps he might keep her in the forest of Artemis.
“We have decided it is best for you to go to the White Forest,” he concluded.
Eleftheria jumped to her feet. The world was tinted red as her eyes burned with anger. Though she did not know it, her eyes were red on the outside too. She breathed hot breaths of fury and rage. Lyssa seized Eleftheria in her maddening clutches. “Why would you have me killed?!” she screamed.
“Please calm down. It is not murder.”
“Then what is it? You know very well I will not go willingly! Thus it is taking my life forcefully!”
“It is an offering of peace. I know you do not find peace here. And when I say ‘here’ I mean the world in general. I am aware of Hades’ search for you. I am aware that he will not stop tormenting you until you are safe from his grasp. This place only exists in Elysium.” Eleftheria could not answer. “Believe me,” he continued, “When I say this pains me as well. I love you as my own daughter and I cannot stand to see you go. But I am too old to care for you. And with this age comes the courage and wisdom to set you free.”
Hieronymos sighed, barely able to speak, “Oh goddess of love,” he spoke to the sky, “Is this truly love that I do? For I do not believe the child of my heart can live through the constant change this war has brought upon us.” He received no answer.
Eleftheria began to calm herself, her eyes returning to their usual dead color. “I will go if it is your will. It is possibly the best thing to do. But I do not believe I can do it.”
“Thank you. It will put my mind at ease. Every time I look to the East, I see you, walking towards me as you did the day you returned; a reflection of some sort. But to make this easier for you, I must give you advice. You will see this too. When you go to the White Forest, you will see me, and everyone else that you love, but when you do, remember to let us go. We cannot stay with you nor can you stay with us. Let the white trees conceal these visions. Promise me this,” were his last words. He looked Eleftheria in the eyes for the first time since the Meeting. She simply nodded. “You leave at dawn tomorrow with other Zeus offspring to the White Forest,” Hieronymos informed.
Father and daughter embraced each other before Eleftheria left to rest before dawn the next day.

The next day came all too early for those who knew of Eleftheria’s leave for the White Forest. Apollo raised his chariot from the horizon in the early morning with a red tint. For the ignorant this was beauty. For those who knew of Eleftheria’s departure, it was a depressing sight, reminding them of the bloodshed of the war she was kidnapped in.
At the exit of the Zeus Kingdom, Hieronymos, Chiron, Andronikos, Aiolos, and Narkissa bid their final farewells to Eleftheria. There were no last words, no tears, no anger. None knew what to feel now that their most beloved companion was to set off to Elysium. Was this good? For she would finally be at peace. Or was it cruel? For Elysium meant death. None knew. None could utter a word, a mixture of feelings clutching their throats. They simply embraced each other. Andronikos held Eleftheria the longest, taking in his last sights of her. Is was reluctant to let her go but she peeled his hands away with a gentle expression, though her eyes ceased any comfort from striking him.
Eleftheria mounted her horse, two centaurs on each side to guide her and the other demigods to the White Forest. Without a word they set off.

Eleftheria, The Liberator, never returned.

 

7) Night of Unexplained Torment
Andronikos found himself on the cliff in the Apollo Beaches. He stared out at the sea, utterly confused. He could not remember how he came here, nor had he remembered awakening. Something strange was going on.
Behind him he heard light footsteps. He brought his hand to his dagger’s sheath only to find he was unarmed. He swiftly turned around and immediately relaxed. It was only Narkissa.
She wore a draping sky blue dress that trailed behind her. The pendant she was given by her minor god parent was on her neck, yet unlike usual, it glowed with a dark blue color. There seemed to be an eerie dark blue aura surrounding her.
Yet what troubled him most was her expression. It was of anger and sorrow. Was it directed at him? True, he did not speak to her often, but she shouldn’t wear the look of a murderess for it.
“Narkissa,” he asked anxiously, “How have I come here?”
“You don’t see what torment’s I have felt for you,” she said. Her voice alarmed him. It sounded so much like Eleftheria’s. “You have murdered me with the love you never returned!” she screamed, “I’ve wept in your name, deceived those around me to help you! And still you overlook me!”
Suddenly, she thrust out her hand at his chest. Even before it touched him, Andronikos was pushed back and fell from the cliff. When Narkissa walked closer, she saw him hanging by one hand. Narkissa glared at him sadistically, feeling no sympathy for her victim.
“Narkissa, help!” pleaded Andronikos, ignorant of his wrongdoing.
“No longer will you receive my aid,” she said in her cruel voice, “Save yourself this time.” And she walked away, leaving Andronikos in his lethal position.
As Narkissa turned away, she whispered to herself in her usual voice, “Perhaps my dreams will end here and I will finally be at peace.”
Andronikos couldn’t hold himself any longer. His fingers slipped and he fell from the cliff.

Andronikos landed harshly on the ground, yet still in tact. When he opened his eyes he could not tell where he was. The sky was pitch black apart from the thousands of tiny stars spread about it. There was no wall, no ceiling, no floor. He saw Narkissa before him, leaning against the rail of a balcony that stood above nothing. She was weeping.
“I tell myself lies,” she says in Eleftheria’s voice, “Constantly trying morph my mind into thinking everything is how I wish. But no longer do I see the boundaries between dream and reality. I can’t even trust myself!” she suddenly screams in anger.
She turns to Andronikos who is already standing and yells at him, “And you caused this insanity!”
Andronikos grew tired of her lack of explanation. He was angered by the fact that he did no wrong and here was a mere minor demigod screaming accusations of crimes he had not done.
“I have done you no wrong!” he yells back, “You have been insane all your life! Get a love that is not I! My heart belongs to Eleftheria!”
Eleftheria’s name triggered Narkissa’s side of envy. Suddenly, Narkissa dissolved into the air with a look of pure hatred and anger. Soon she reappeared in the distance behind Andronikos.
“Scream all you want you coward! You cannot hurt me!” Her voice was shrill and fearsome. Her voice was her own but multiplied. It was as if all Narkissa’s emotions had a voice and combined to make one cruel tone that shattered the mind of Andronikos. He tried to run at her so she would disappear, but she was too far away. It seemed as if no matter how fast he ran, she was still the same distance from him. She would never leave. She would always haunt the back of his mind.

 

8) Diokles
Within the garden of Herse, behind the grove at the rim of the stunning orchard, one could wander deep enough and find themselves facing a silver archway. It would shine, though no light passes thru the surrounding trees. Thru the arch one would walk, and see a stunning landscape before them. Small streams of trickling silver water would flow between small pools; and each pool would hold a single white water lily in its center. This sacred place was known as the Sanctuary of Silver Tears. Each pool represented a soul that had been lost and cherished by their godly parent. Here lay many demigods, minor and Olympian, in eternal sleep.
And at the far end of the Sanctuary, a girl wept on her knees. She stood before the only statue of a young man who had died a few years ago. His name was Diokles, the glory of Zeus. He was killed in battle five years ago, found with a black sword in his stomach. Diokles was the prime heir for the Kingdom after Hieronymos for his mother was Hieronymos’ wife. But when Diokles died, his brother, Barnabas had received this duty as heir.
Diokles’s statue showed he had short, curled hair to his chin and strong, broad shoulders. He stood straight and tall, with his arms slightly spread and his palms facing up. The stone eyes looked out to nothingness.
The woman who wept at the foot of the statue was least likely of all. She could barely see thru the tears in her warm hazel eyes. Her short brown hair drooped over her face. It was Narkissa who wept these tears of immense sorrow. But none understood her pain; her love story was a complicated one.
Narkissa loved Diokles dearly. He would caress her in his arms and he would make her feel as if she were a goddess herself. But the loss of his life changed her eternally. Half of Narkissa’s existence seemed to disappear along with his soul. But his death gave her a new longing. She felt so alone; no one was left to care for her.
“Why did you leave me?” Narkissa whispered to the stone man, “If you had to leave, why couldn’t you leave completely?” Her tears stained her cheeks. “Every day I feel alone. But when I search for love… I’m reminded of you…” she sobbed, “I feel total remorse for betraying you.”
She looked up at the statue who did not listen to her mournful words
“I’m so tired of feeling these fears of betrayal. Why can you not just leave?” Narkissa stood up and reached up to put her hand on the cold stone face of the Olympian demigod statue, whispering, “It pains me to feel this loss. You have never left my mind…” She took a deep shaking breath. “I would think of how you would hold me. How you would bring me happiness in my darkest times… And how I would help you when your troubled mind would feel pain… But that is all they are… memories…”
Narkissa put her hand in Diokles’ statue’s hand. Were it real, he would wipe away her tears. He would look at her with his stormy silver eyes and tell her not to worry. But it was never to be.
“Memories cannot help me, Diokles,” said the weeping demigoddess, “I am bound by your soul… My own dreams are haunted by your presence… I see your face, I hear your voice. But I am not comforted by the hands I only imagine embracing me…” Narkissa sobbed loudly. She knew none would come into the Sanctuary.
“Many times I have told myself you are gone… But why do I still feel your presence? I saw your death with my own eyes and yet I feel as if I am betraying you.” Narkissa could not stand this pain. She suffered this for so long, she did not believe she could cope.

And so was the story of Narkissa. She haunted dreams to make up for her own pain. And yet she found no satisfaction. But none would know of her pain. At least, that is what she thinks.
For at the archway to the Sanctuary of Silver Tears stood a tall figure of an Olympian demigod. A thin man with dirty blonde hair and silver eyes watched silently without disturbing her.
Aiolos.

 

9) Khthonios
The day before the Company was to set off began for Hieronymos with a knock on his door to his study. He looked up with a confused face. Chiron had stopped visiting, having more important matters to attend to such as teaching Spiridion of the world outside the Hestia kingdom. None of the other members of the Company had anything to say to Hieronymos (Especially Andronikos who was very upset at the time).
“Enter,” said Hieronymos to his door. His heart threatened to stop at the sight of the man who arrived.
It was a complete stranger, frightening enough. But the appearance of the fellow was truly sinister. It was evident he was an Olympian demigod, for he towered over even Hieronymos. The figure wore a black, travel-stained cowl that masked his entire body. The cloak was so long, one couldn’t even see his feet. The opening of the cloak showed a small part of his black, leather armor which seemed much newer than his cloak, which must have took whatever conditions the man traveled in. His sword peered from beneath his cowl on his waist. The hilt was covered in black leather, most likely as a grip or comforter. The blade could not be seen from the simple black sheath. But what gave this figure the threatening impression was his face (or what could be seen from his face). The upper half was hidden by the shadows of his hood. But an eerie glimmer from the darkness could be caught from beneath where his eyes should be, if the light was just right. His mouth was clearly visible. He had hollow cheeks and seemed old and worn. If one did not look correctly, his colorless lips would seem as if they were beyond existence.
“Hieronymos? King of Zeus?” spoke the man. He possessed a rugged voice, as if labored. But if he were trying to mask the spine-chilling hissing his voice seemed to make, he certainly failed. Hieronymos opened his mouth to speak; but he found it very difficult to speak with the figure. He could not see his eyes, and so he was forced to watch his mouth. But the cruel figure’s teeth were all but ordinary. There were many teeth, thin and sharp. As if they could bite thru a man’s arm in an instant. Overall, this guest was the cruelest one could look.
“I am,” retorted Hieronymos with his head held high, trying to seem less intimidated by the inhuman as much as possible. This, needless to say, proved very difficult. “And you?” Hieronymos requested serenely.
“I am known as Khthonios,” was all he said. Hieronymos’ heart felt as if it were being strangled by this man’s invisible eyes. The name “Khthonios” terrified him, for it means “of the Underworld” and his appearance was doing him no justice. Was this an assassin? He surely seemed everything but human.
“What business have you here?” Hieronymos asked nervously.
“I know of your council and I wish to join the Company on their journey to the Underworld,” replied Khthonios with a chilling voice. This entire meeting did not feel pleasant to Hieronymos. It just felt wrong.
“I am sorry, but all positions for this journey are occupied.”
“Perhaps this will open me a position?” Khthonios put his arm out towards Hieronymos and his hand slipped out his too-long sleeve. His hand was covered with a black glove but it was the object around a finger that amazed Hieronymos. Khthonios wore a silver ring on his middle finger. It bore an emblem of a golden centaur with a drawn bow in its hands. Hieronymos’s eyes widened; for this ring was the mark of the Centaurian Guardians, the most trusted army of the Poseidon Sea. How could this monstrous man come to the possession of such a revered symbol of honor? By what he saw, only a chosen few of the Centaur species wore such rings.
Hieronymos opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He knew not what to say. Was this man truly worthy of his trust?
“I… I suppose you may come…” faltered Hieronymos, still in amazement as he watched the ring, “I would be honored if a… Centaurian warrior joined.”
Khthonios put his hand back in his oversized sleeve and stood up. He walked towards the door and as he stopped in the doorway, he heard Hieronymos say, “They leave tomorrow.”
Beneath his cowl, Khthonios’s sparkling white teeth were revealed with one wicked grin as he hissed in his rugged voice, “I know,” and left the room.

 

bu-bump

 

10) Then...




















Everyone died. Yeah something along those lines. I'm killing this thread... whoever read this. It's such a boring book really. I can't grab anyone's attention and this time I'm not just being an attention whore. so...
*pew pew pew*

 

may or may not rewrite and continue... I don't know maybe maybe not. I'm having a relapse of health issues so I may lose my self motivation again and find everything pointless...