The world had blurred after that. The raw agony of crying alone in the olive grove, the bewildering calm of my mother's embrace, the unsettling stillness of my father's gaze, Theano's searching eyes – it all swirled together in the weeks that followed. I tried to suppress the voices, to push them down, to make them disappear. I ignored them, pretended they weren't there, even when they offered their detached observations. The very sound of their presence, the way they had hijacked my words, my body, had filled me with a deep, simmering annoyance that had blossomed into hatred. I hated that they were there, hated that they had made me break down in public, hated that they forced me to lie to Theano.
It had been weeks since the incident at the ceremony, weeks since I last indulged in my quiet escape. Today, however, felt different. I found myself drawn, almost without a thought, to my usual secluded place on the edge of the village, a small, hidden clearing where the olive trees were thickest, away from any prying eyes. This was where I used to play, to become.
And to my surprise, Theano was already there, sitting on a low, sun-warmed stone, her gaze distant, pensive. My heart lurched. A wave of familiar shyness washed over me, the kind that usually knotted my tongue and stiffened my limbs, especially when it came to the hidden part of me. Yet, beneath that shyness, something else stirred. The spark, the inner fire that had been rekindled by the ceremony, felt different now, more powerful, perhaps fueled by the raw intensity of the outburst, or the strange comfort of Theano's quiet acceptance. Even as I hated the voices, that fire pulsed.
Theano looked up, her expression softening into a gentle smile as she saw me. She didn't speak, merely patted the stone beside her, inviting me. I sat. The silence stretched, comfortable, unforced. Then, without a word, drawn by an irresistible urge, I began to play.
I wasn't playing with wooden soldiers or small figurines this time. I was playing Hektor Anepsios, the hero of the old stories, the warrior prince, the steadfast defender. I picked up a sturdy olive branch that served as my spear, another as my shield. My body moved, not with youthful awkwardness, but with a fluidity that surprised even me. I lunged, parried, dodged, the air thick with invisible foes, the whispers of ancient battles. I felt the weight of a legendary shield, the strength of an epic spear. I was Hektor. The pride, the courage, the fierce protectiveness of the hero filled me, pushing away the lingering annoyance of the voices, pushing away the memory of my own shame. It was a complete immersion.
It's been weeks since I last played this game, I thought, moving with a grace that felt entirely new. I don't remember when I last played in front of a person. The thought of Theano watching should have crippled me with self-awareness, but the fire inside was too strong. It fueled me, made me forget everything but the becoming. My shyness, for once, had no power over me. I played not for her, but because the spirit demanded it, bursting forth after weeks of suppression. God observed, a clinical assessment. "Behavior: Mimicry of heroic archetype. Emotional state: Elevated focus, reduced self-consciousness. Hypothesis: Creative expression as a distress mitigation mechanism. Analysis: Energy expenditure is significant. Efficient." Goddess, however, resonated with a soft, pleased hum, a feeling of deep satisfaction that, despite my hatred, she could still draw forth such passion. "The fire burns! See the strength! The beauty of the becoming! It cannot be suppressed!"
Theano watched, a gentle smile gracing her lips, her eyes wide with a quiet fascination. She didn't interrupt, didn't question. She simply observed, her presence a silent, warm support. Her acceptance, even of this strange, hidden part of me, made the performance even more powerful.
Suddenly, a rustle in the bushes, and Euboa appeared. She stumbled into the clearing, her eyes wide, her small hands clutching the hem of her tunic. My movements faltered, the illusion of Hektor fracturing. A wave of awkwardness washed over me, a blush creeping up my neck. I hated that my sister, usually so quiet and unobtrusive, saw me playing this silly game, especially in front of Theano. The voices were silent for a moment, sensing my discomfort, or perhaps waiting to see how this new interaction would unfold.
Euboa seemed to be trying to say something, her mouth opening and closing, but no words came out. Her small face was a mixture of urgency and intense shyness at seeing Theano, the beautiful woman she admired so much. She kept glancing at Theano, then back at me, her cheeks flushed.
Theano, with her usual grace, noticed Euboa's distress. She immediately rose from the stone, her smile gentle and reassuring. "Euboa!" she said, her voice warm and inviting. She knelt down, extending her arms. "Come here, little one." She welcomed Euboa with an open kindness that eased my own awkwardness.
Euboa hesitated for only a second, then rushed into Theano's embrace. Theano hugged her tightly, stroking her hair. "Oh, you are so cute," Theano murmured, her voice soft with genuine affection. "I don't want to let you go."
I watched them, a small, genuine smile forming on my own lips, a moment of pure, unadulterated warmth that momentarily eclipsed my bitterness towards the voices. God registered it. "Emotional state: Positive affect. Source: Familial and betrothal unit interaction. Data point: Social bonds contribute to rapid emotional stabilization." Goddess hummed with approval. "See the connection! The love! This is the true warmth!"
Theano eventually released Euboa, still holding her hands. "Why did you come all the way out here, little Euboa?" Theano asked, her voice light.
Euboa finally managed to speak, her voice still soft. "Father… Father called Himerios. He said to come quickly."
A jolt went through me. I didn't know why Father had called me, but the urgency in Euboa's voice, the fact that she had been sent to find me, told me it was important. My earlier relief from Father's forgiveness began to recede, replaced by a fresh wave of apprehension. God's voice, ever pragmatic, noted. "Information received: Summons by Authority Figure. Implication: Consequence or new directive. Preparation: Mental and emotional readiness required." Goddess, however, was silent, a nervous flutter in my chest reflecting her own apprehension.
I nodded to Euboa, a sense of duty settling over me. I had to go. I turned to Theano, a quiet sadness in my heart. "I must go," I said.
She nodded, her smile still there, but a flicker of something in her eyes, a shadow of lingering worry from the ceremony, from my lie, betrayed her. "We'll meet soon, Himerios," she said. But something about her voice, the way she held my gaze, said that she didn't want me to go, not yet, not with things unresolved. Miss me for a while, Theano, I thought internally, a quiet yearning in my chest. Miss the one you see, not the one I fear I am becoming.
I went home, my steps measured, the feeling of apprehension growing with each stride. The sun was beginning to dip towards the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple.
Father Karteros was waiting for me in the main room of the house. He turned as I entered, and his gaze fell upon me. It was the same look he'd given me after the incident, a look of doubt, as if he were searching for something in my eyes, something he couldn't quite grasp, something that remained elusive. I didn't get why he looked at me like that, why he seemed to be peering into my very soul, looking for a hidden flaw or a secret explanation I couldn't give him. God remained analytical. "Observation: Parental gaze exhibiting pattern of scrutiny. Suggests assessment of past behavior. Maintain neutral expression. Non-disclosure protocol active." The constant presence of the voices, their quiet commentary, grated on me, fueling my annoyance and hatred, even as I needed God's cold logic.
Father came down to business immediately, his voice devoid of emotion, cutting straight to the point. "Himerios," he said, his words firm, decisive. "We are going to visit the Oracle of Delphi."
My breath caught. The Oracle of Delphi. The most sacred, most revered place of prophecy in all the land. I didn't ask why. I didn't need to. The magnitude of the incident at the ceremony, the way it had disrupted the sacred space, the strangeness of my outburst – it was clearly significant enough to warrant such a drastic measure. It was the next logical step after the public spectacle, a way to seek answers for the inexplicable. God's voice, for once, seemed to lose its detached calm, a flicker of something resembling curiosity or even excitement. "Directive received: Travel to Oracle of Delphi. Implication: Acquisition of high-value information. Preparation for data acquisition protocol initiated." Goddess, however, was a mix of trepidation and anticipation. "The Oracle! The whispers of fate! A sacred journey! But… what will it reveal? What will it demand?"
I simply nodded, my voice low, filled with a strange blend of dread and resignation. "Yes, father."
The next morning, as the first rays of dawn touched the village, Mother Philia stood at the threshold, her face etched with a familiar worry, yet her eyes held strength. She embraced Father Karteros tightly, a silent, loving farewell, and he returned her hug with a rare tenderness before turning to me. Mother then pulled me into a fierce embrace. "Be safe, my son," she murmured into my hair, her voice thick with emotion. "May the gods watch over your journey." Euboa, her small hand clutching Mother's tunic, gave me a shy, hopeful wave. "Come back soon, Himerios!" she chirped, her voice soft.
The journey to the Oracle of Delphi began. It was a long way to go, days of travel, through unfamiliar landscapes. It was all new to me. I had only ever heard tales of distant cities, of mountains and seas, confined as I was to the familiar paths of my village. But now, the world was opening before me. Even though I was annoyed by their presence, I absorbed everything in our path, trying to focus on the external world to suppress the voices. The changing scenery, the smell of unfamiliar plants, the different ways people spoke in passing villages, the grand scale of the land stretching out before us – it was all a bewildering, fascinating tapestry. I drank it all in, trying to drown out the internal hum of God's analytical observations and Goddess's emotional reactions, trying to lose myself in the physical journey and escape their constant commentary.
We passed fields of golden wheat, winding rivers, and small, dusty settlements. The air grew thinner as we ascended into the mountains, the scent of pine needles replacing the familiar smells of the village. I watched shepherds with their flocks, saw merchants haggling in market squares, observed families working the land. Every new sight was a distraction, a brief moment of quiet from the hated voices, even as they offered their detached remarks. God noted the variations in flora and fauna, the geological formations. Goddess reacted to the beauty of a sunset over distant hills, or the warmth of a passing stranger's smile. Their comments were a constant, unwanted companion, but I tried to let them wash over me, tried to simply see and feel the world outside, rather than the turmoil within.
I had only heard about the Oracles in hushed tones, in ancient stories, tales of cryptic prophecies and divine pronouncements. I knew nothing of the customs, the rituals, the procedures of approaching such a hallowed place. My mind tried to anticipate, to imagine what it would be like, but it was a blank.
Days bled into one another, marked by the rising and setting of the sun, the changing landscapes, the ache in my bones. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the air shifted, becoming lighter, imbued with a sense of ancient power. Through a winding mountain pass, past towering cliffs and sacred groves, we saw it. The sprawling sanctuary, nestled on the slopes of Mount Parnassus, radiating an aura of profound mystery and immense spiritual energy. We had reached the Oracle of Delphi.