Pherenike - Chapter 15

But outside the sanctuary, there were a few with eyes of the spirit. They felt daemons, saw nymphs, and recognized the dazzling power gifted by Kybellar to certain humans.

Pherenike couldn’t risk any danger. Even if the control device couldn’t completely extinguish the light surrounding her, the faint remaining light was only visible to those at the very top of the sanctuary.

The soldiers wearing the red himation symbolizing the king’s guard patrolled inside and outside the fence. Fortunately, none recognized her.

Pherenike confidently walked along the corridor surrounding the courtyard. Inside, there were no royal guards. The small forest in its tranquil otherworldliness echoed with bird songs.

The servants guarding the bedroom recognized her and hurriedly knelt in reverence. Pherenike didn’t wait for their gestures before opening the door.

As she stepped inside, Deucalion, who had been sitting on the bed, rose fiercely and walked toward her. Pherenike gestured to Deucalion’s servant, who quietly closed the door.

His pace was so fierce that the loud clanking of the thick, long chain connecting Deucalion’s ankle to the bed’s seemed to threaten the smooth marble floor.

They had bound the prince like a punished slave. Pherenike glanced at his reddened ankle and frowned. His infamous temperament surely wouldn’t have left his ankle alone. The shackle was more than a mere piece of iron.

Nonetheless, it was better than the pitch-black dungeon. This place was, at least, Deucalion’s own. His people were here.

Pherenike took a step back just as Deucalion reached out to grab her. He growled her name.

“Pherenike Vassilios.”

His usually relaxed demeanor around her was gone, his handsome face twisted with anger beneath his disheveled silver hair.

Deucalion had exhausted the length of the chain the shackles allowed. His anger had reached its peak. Like a dog on a leash, he yanked the chain violently, then spoke quietly, as if suppressing something boiling within.

“Come here.”

Instead of obeying, Pherenike calmly addressed her purpose first. She removed her silver bracelet, tossed it aside, and looked up. Her lavender eyes, reminiscent of spring flowers, turned cold.

Her gaze hardened as she scanned Deucalion from head to toe.

He looked slightly thinner than the last time she saw him. As Pherenike thought so, she suddenly realized the ‘last time’ she inadvertently recalled wasn’t the Antehe Council five days ago, but a night four years from now.

The night before his departure was the last time he held her, never to return.

Back then, Deucalion was her husband. But now, he doesn’t even remember that fact.

During that time, Pherenike had struggled greatly to escape from the land of Evdokia to reach him, and he, amidst numerous hardships, had come to fetch her. They met each other in the middle of a desert. Until then, Pherenike had never seen a desert. They had overcome death several times, driven by the sole purpose of reuniting with each other.

How did they manage to find each other again and vow a lifetime together?

The realization that their shared time had vanished was never more overwhelming than the relief of knowing he was alive. The two couldn’t even be compared. Yet, this realization tore a part of Pherenike’s heart away.

In any moment of her life that she could revisit, Deucalion would always be loving her. The Deucalion before her was also the one she loved as much as her life.

But her husband was nowhere to be found.

The Deucalion of that time, the four years of memories they shared, the seas and deserts of strangers they had seen together, the countless nights and days they whispered sweet nothings to each other, had all drifted away from her, like Sisyphus’ rock.

It was like an eternal punishment.

Even though she had brought Deucalion back to life, he was gone. She had lost him forever.

The moment Actor cut his throat, a piece of his soul had already traveled to a far-off place, unreachable by her ever again.

A terrible sense of loss welled up inside her. Pherenike swallowed it down, keeping her composure as if suppressing nausea. With eyes oblivious to what they had lost, Deucalion looked at her.

“Pherenike.”

“Are you hurt?”

“That’s not—”

“—important.”

They had already lost so much, so that was all that mattered now.

Pherenike examined him carefully, ignoring his anxiety and anger.

His face was cleanly shaved. He wore a clean himation.

* Daemon (daemon): A name given to supernatural forces by ancient Greek people, distinct from the gods in Greek mythology, that governed the mountains, river and plants and influenced various aspects of human life.

* Nymph: Creatures in Greek and Roman mythology. They were beautiful female spirits who dwelled in specific natural locations such as trees and springs.

* Sisyphus: The king of Corinth in Greek mythology, known for deceiving Hades, the god of the underworld. As a punishment, he was condemned to push a heavy boulder uphill, only to have it roll back down every time he reached the summit. Sisyphus was condemned to repeat this task for eternity.

* Himation: An outer garment worn by ancient Greeks.