Pherenike - Chapter 2

Or perhaps the fates had decided to sever his thread. Deucalion had already been defeated in the royal capital. It was all over.

Pherenike laughed fiercely as she threw the arrow in her hand. She paid no mind to the blind arrows continuing to fly above her head.

Gradually, a faint cluster of light emerged from Pherenike’s body, creating white flames on the arrow that was going to pierce her head. As if incinerating it from the top of her head.

For some time now, such things could not harm her. Even if someone were to strike her head with a rock right now or pierce her abdomen with a dagger, it would be of no use. Others’ attempts at harm could never affect her. It would only damage the hands of those who held weapons and injured the weapons themselves.

Because she was the goddess’s “Kybellaune.”

Kybellaune, the chosen one by the goddess Kybellar. A woman called not the “servant of the goddess” but the “daughter of the goddess.” Therefore, the most sacred human in the kingdom.

She was the one who had blossomed the goddess’s mark on her body after a solid 130 years. While all the priestesses of Kybellar marked themselves with the goddess’s symbol as tattoos. Her body, which had never been tattooed, there was always a self-illuminating mark.

She was different from the previous Kybellaune, whom a powerful human had chosen among numerous priestesses as a kind of decoration. Unlike those chosen by mere humans, Pherenike was the real one chosen by the goddess herself.

The faint light still guarding her, who was akin to a defeated dog, was evidence. What the goddess left for the one she cherished. The sacred armor of the divine goddess.

Yes, the goddess continued to protect her, shielding her from all external harm, ensuring not even a single scratch reached her. However, her life would end with this.

Her Deucalion would die. Her father, who led the soldiers from the northern part of the capital, would also meet his end.

Deucalion’s mother, who raised her personally Deucalion’s and her good friends.

Everything surrounding Pherenike’s life would perish in a very ephemeral manner, except for her alone. Pherenike knew the remaining years of her life.

Merciful kings who were afraid to commit the sin of personally killing God’s servants or their own blood kin often employed a different form of “merciful” punishment.

Gouging out the sinner’s eyes and confining them to a windowless cell for a lifetime. Depriving them of the ability to see light and wind, even through sound.

Pherenike suddenly burst into laughter. Of course, the Prince Regent was a fearless individual, and he didn’t fear confining a fragile woman like her to a cell like livestock.

If he couldn’t gouge out her eyes, tying her hands and covering her eyes so she couldn’t see light for a lifetime would suffice.

No one could kill her; that was how it would be.

“Indeed, you haven’t died.”

“…”

“Pherenike Vassilios. I don’t know where you were heading, but the Prince Regent ordered me to safely escort you to Lykke.”

A cavalryman, referring to her not as the daughter of a goddess nor the consort of the 2nd Prince Deucalion but as a noble’s daughter, gestured to his subordinates.

Nikandros’ cavalry surrounded her in a tight circle.

“You’ve pushed all of Nikandros’ archers into the forest where I was, creating a beehive with thousands of arrows, and Actor Nikandros said it was to ensure my safety.”

“What’s the problem? After all, you’re a peculiar woman who won’t die even if your whole body is pierced with a sword. Instead, it’s the insects of the Paetusa that will perish.”

“…”

“After cleaning thoroughly as commanded by the Prince Regent, it became so easy to find and guide you. The Prince Regent is so merciful towards the woman whose engagement with him was broken off long ago…”

“Get down.”

“What?”

“This is the path to Lykke. Since Actor himself will go to the royal road, cease your prattling.”

“His Highness the 1st Prince is the Prince Regent of Evdokia, representing his father and is the ruler of Nikandros. Do not mention his name casually…”

Pherenike approached the cavalryman and uttered a brief apology in the language of the goddess before forcefully kicking the horse’s legs.

“Damn it!”

Startled by her kick, the horse raised its front hooves and clumsily dropped its owner.

However, when Pherenike extended her hand and sent a bit of light, the horse, soon forgetting the pain, obediently followed her.

It was a form of mental manipulation using the healing power ‘Althea,’ allowing her to control beasts as she pleased, albeit for a limited time, as she had never seen the blood of beasts.

Before mounting the horse, Pherenike briefly touched the ring that Deucalion had given her two years ago.

The day they married under the wandering tent on foreign soil.

In truth, it would be fine if you were dead.

As long as I can briefly have your body.

Deucalion was her everything. It had been that way for a very long time. From the moment she was born into the world, they were destined for each other.

He was the most natural part of her world, her very breath. As her only brother for her who had none, he became the only male her body ever known. He was what she loved most from the moment she came into being.

Pherenike had no intention of losing him.

Even if it meant losing herself in return.

As if the horse couldn’t see its master that lay sprawled on the ground, it finally began to gallop and carried the unfamiliar woman.

Towards Lykke.