Pherenike - Chapter 63

However, the cave had been intricately controlled for hundreds of years, and initially, no one could step inside except for one who prays.

No one but Pherenike, who, according to them, was ‘needed to be kept alive,’ passed through. Since the man who dared to traverse the other end of the cave was a descendant of Pelagon who couldn’t be killed, it amounted to the same thing.

The daemons didn’t hide the fact that they went mad from their boredom and idleness.

[“Still, we really like you.”]

[“Really. Truly, truly, we think well of you.”]

They would occasionally chatter about how much they liked her, but they always wanted to show her their newly created labyrinths. No matter how serious she was, they had little interest in the trivial emotions of a human who lived briefly and then died.

So, sometimes the ground would burst upwards or shake, not out of any particular malice. It seemed they wanted to see her tumble and laugh at least once.

Then Pherenike had to walk with all her might just to not fall, swallowing her anger and curses, soothing them, and occasionally dispelling the illusion that the walls were collapsing towards her.

After some strenuous walking, a small island appeared, akin to an abandoned paradise.

While everyone imagined a wretched priestess trapped in a cave, clinging to the hem of the goddess’s garment, Pherenike never stayed inside the cave unless it was deep night.

The days were long, and the island was beautiful.

The sound of waves was all around. To her, it was the sound of waiting.

The western edge of the kingdom. Land isolated alone in the sea.

An empty island where, strangely, not a single small animal lived, except for birds resting momentarily in the trees.

Since they parted in Lykke, this place had been a paradise for Deucalion and her.

Even if they only met each other for a few days a year.

“A cave midway up Mount Calyce, in the heart of the mainland, leads to this remote island in the vast sea…”

“Yes.”

“…Pherenike, did you really come out ‘here’ from that cave in the old days? Look at the map again.”

“Are you trying to say I’m crazy?”

“I was asking because it sounded so insane to me.”

“It’s all true, remember that, Deucalion. We need to meet here.”

“…Without any promise.”

“Yes. Without any promise, come see me, Deucalion.”

Later, when Deucalion first saw her emerge from the cave, he remarked for a long time how she seemed like a ghost. His eyes sparkled like a boy who had discovered something precious, smiling and thrilled.

Despite the long time it took for them to meet again, there was not a single shadow.

Only the two of them in the whole world knew the connection between Mount Calyce and the island of Ogygia.

Thus, the place was clear. They had no choice but to meet there. Time was never specified. Promises weren’t made because they couldn’t be kept.

She waited for him, and he waited for her. Days passed without promise, hoping fate would lead them to this place today.

Their waiting crossed paths like days and nights that could never meet.

When Pherenike stayed on Ogygia, she always looked towards the eastern horizon until the sun rose and set over the island.

And when Deucalion was alone guarding the island, he spent his days sitting at the entrance of the cave. Waiting for his wife to emerge from the darkness, bringing a glimmer of light with her.

The sanctuary still housed people planted by the Second Prince. Initially entering as servants of the sanctuary in their youth, they now appeared as proper members. It’s likely they’ve forgotten their original purpose.

Nonetheless, fundamentally, they were sent to Calyce to protect Pherenike.

However, effectively, they ended up being tattlers who occasionally reported back to their old master about Pherenike’s activities within the sanctuary, her destinations, and those around her, supposedly for her protection.

At ten years old, the first time she was separated from him, Deucalion was so anxious that he looked like he was struck by a fatal illness. He feared existing outside each other’s control. Naive and vulnerable, he couldn’t even hide his sinister thoughts.

Pherenike knew and tolerated these loyal informants and was delighted by Deucalion’s blatant affection. She enjoyed the sight of the boy crumbling without her, lost without her presence.

Dexikos might have muttered ‘twisted’ under his breath as if he’d heard, but for Pherenike, it truly didn’t matter. Nothing needed to be hidden from Deucalion.

The sanctuary’s little spies were proof that Deucalion thought of her even in her absence.

She appreciated that he obsessed over her from afar, eagerly awaiting news of her, burning with longing. Before they knew such prolonged separations, his pain was pleasing to her.

Time passed. Much changed from those initial thoughts.

Yet, Deucalion did not retract his order, and she continued to condone it, so Deucalion’s birds still carried out their duties.