A mule galloped through the dark cold forest, pulling a wooden cart laden with amphorae, woolen blankets, and two passengers. One, a woman semi-reclining, was pale, her wide, grey, anxious eyes framed by curls of golden hair that fell around her heart-shaped face. She wore a beige, long-sleeved peplos -draped dress- beneath a brown himation, her body tense with labor pains.
Beside her, a young man—thin, freckled, with an oblong face and closely cropped blond hair and grey narrow eyes—gripped her hand firmly. This was her brother, Leandros, his knee-length woolen chiton simple but practical, his expression a careful blend of concern and optimism.
Riding the mule ahead, the woman's husband—a man in his twenties with sharp features, medium-length grey hair, grey sharp eyes and a clean-shaven jaw—kept glancing over his shoulder. Sweat glimmered on his brow as he urged the mule forward. Each bump of the cart against hidden roots or jagged stones sent a shiver through the woman, and a grimace of pain crossed her face.
"Sister!" Leandros murmured urgently.
"Have you bled yet?" the husband asked, his voice tense.
The woman exhaled a short laugh despite the pain. "Fifth time to ask. If you are so concerned, why don't you come to the back and care for the woman bearing your child, and let Leandros drive?"
The man turned sharply, astonished, yet with a quiet subtle admiration for the levity of her soul, eyes widening.
"How does she have the ability to joke in such circumstances?". a thought struck him.
Leandros, ever composed, smiled faintly. "Do not worry. Before a woman bleeds in labor, water comes first—the same water the baby drinks in the womb, yeah" He tapped his index finger to his lips thoughtfully. "Or perhaps some blood comes first, then water… Either way, even if some blood comes first, the Keres will not be drawn to it. You sure know that well."
The woman miffed, squeezing his hand. "Please... *STRAINS*..don't mention them. It makes me scared," said the wife her face showing distress. "Plus he indeed knows. How could he not?". She added in a sudden fervor.
"I don't know. He comes from a polis–city-state– with a great Light Stone. Souls do not roam freely there, yeah." Leandros miffed back.
The husband exhaled, shaking his head, torn between awe and relief. "Away from their argument… at last, the dawn is near." His eyes fixed on the colossal curve of light swelling across the horizon — a wall that rose like a boundary, sharp and unyielding, as if it was the edge of two worlds, one is chaotic filled with terror and the other serene and filled with peace. The seam between two truths: darkness and light.
"The light is ahead," Evander whispered, his voice softened into peace. "There, even if she bleeds, she will be safe."
"I tell you, the boys of the poleis don't suffer as we do, yeah." Leandros said, his voice sharp, the argument still heated.
"Leandros!" the husband's calm voice cut through, and both siblings turned their heads.
"The dawn…" they both whispered.
"Start pouring the holy water from the amphora on her until we reach it," the husband added, his tone grave. "Even the slightest bleeding can draw the Keres."
"Nope. That's not right," Leandros countered, still arguing. "I have a friend who told me he—agh…"
The cart jolted over a hidden root. Leandros bit his tongue; a streak of blood ran into his palm. Silence fell, absolute, each heartbeat thundering in the sudden stillness.
The sound of galloping and the roaring, panting sound of the mule return.
"See?" Leandros, adjusting his pose to boast about being right, murmured in a muffled sound to the husband, who looked back, awe-struck. "Nothing happened… Yet I will pour the holy water to—"
His gaze lingered on his sister. Eyes smiling, mouth half-open as if about to finish his thought.
He blinked.
And suddenly—
/// SLASH… A hiss, like steel dragged over bone.
Leandros's face shattered. Eyes, nose, mouth—sliced apart in a single stroke.
His sister's grip of his hand tightened.
She stared at him in shock
His blood spouted into the air before it dropped on her face.
Her breath caught, then tore into a scream that split the darkness.
Before her scream faded, the husband leapt from the mule, he was mid-air, xiphos-short sword- in hand. Eyes locked on the shadows that twisted and writhed around them.
The world blackened.
A hiss of steel cut through the night.
And then—silence.
The cart crossed into the dawn, into the Light, into a warm field of flowers and grass. The husband exhaled, exhausted, steam rising from his body.
"Hhh… snff… nghh…"
The wife sobbed, then strained.
The world shifted beneath them.
They crossed some distance; she moaned again, harder this time.
The world shifted once more.
Her husband helped her down by a tree—and noticed a stain of blood spreading beneath her.
"It's okay now. I am by your side," he said, voice gentle but worried, trying to comfort her.
But something felt wrong.
"Nghhhhh…" she strained.
"Zoe… I'm here. It's okay," he whispered.
Water soaked her peplos.
"Ughhhhhhh… Evander" Her moans grew louder, sharper.
Her eyes rolled back and forth. They illuminated.
Evander's heart raced. The atmosphere thickened, tense, unnatural.
"Zoe… why are you doing this? No… don't activate them now! Focus on the birth. Why are you doing that?!" His voice cracked, urgent.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaah!
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!"
The world darkened again....
.....Then, figures emerged, surrounding them, murmuring.
"Is everything all right?" one asked, addressing the husband.
"Shit… I thought this was that mad woman who screams at children—Lamia," another muttered.
"Yeah, Lamia almost got my nephew. We should find her and kill her before she harms anyone," a third said.
"The boy is still attached to his mother by the cord, this guy is obviously clueless. " another murmured.
"It's blue—bat it. Then give it to it's soul-less mother to lactate it. It would be a waste in the future if it's body is damaged that early. I hope that you have another child from a normal wife rather than this soul-less one because this soul-less baby doesn't seem in a good condition" another man said to Evander who was kneeling in silent shock.
"Waaah!" The boy cried as one of them struck him.
"Uh… a soul-less boy crying?" the men muttered, uneasy.
Meanwhile, the husband's gaze never left his wife she is breathing slowly.
Her gaze is lost.
The shimmer in her eyes faded. Her pupils obliterated.
She became a soul-less.
"Father…
Father…
Father" A voice echoed, hauntingly.
/// ZSHSHSHSHH… A river streamed, slicing through the endless weight of memory, cutting short what had felt like a long, unending flashback.
Darkness and stillness still reigned, thick and heavy.
"Father!"
A childish voice called the woman's husband–Evander, who was now bearded, standing by a river, stirred. His voice was low, almost a murmur as he regained clarity. "He… he has your eyes…"
"Who are you talking to, Father? Are you alright?"
Evander blinked, letting the words of memory fade. His lips parted, cautious, uncertain.
"Uh… Anthrion."
Before him stood a blonde boy, a heart-shaped face framed by long strands of hair that fell over his eyes.
His eyes were grey wide and curious, as if questioning both what has passed and what yet to come.
In his small hands, he clutched a small amphora, his expression wary and distressed.
"Over there." He said whispering, as he pointed to the trees on the other bank of the river with his hands trembling.