Bonus Chapter
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Suren, unaware that yet another reverent title had been bestowed upon him, continued his voyage through the Aegean Sea with the Argonauts.The Dioscuri twins unfurled a map, discussing their next destination. "Our next stop should be Thrace."
"Since a large portion of the men fled from Lemnos to Thrace, the country has grown quite prosperous in recent years," Castor added.
"It's said that the King of Thrace, Phineus, is famed for his prophetic powers throughout Greece. Perhaps he could offer a divination for the Argo."
Phineus, King of Thrace, was a wise ruler.
Apollo, who took a particular liking to him, had even blessed him with the gift of prophecy—a rarity for any mortal.
But Phineus, still a human, found it difficult to resist the urge to flaunt his newfound powers. The moment he was granted the ability to see into the lives of most Greeks, he began predicting futures left and right.
Unfortunately, Apollo soon regretted his decision, as Phineus's prophecies led to chaos, allowing people to justify all manner of misdeeds under the guise of fate.
Yet, as a god, Apollo couldn't simply retract his gift; that would make him look petty.
And, given that Phineus had no real vices and treated the gods with great respect, Apollo didn't even have grounds for a warning.
But the God of Light and Music still had his ways.
So, in his wisdom as the god who invented machinery, Apollo did the logical thing—he turned to Zeus to settle the matter.
It was straightforward enough: if a subprogram can't handle it, escalate to the master program.
And Zeus, equally mechanistic, made no pretense of warning Phineus with a dream. Instead, he blinded the king outright and sent a monstrous bird to harass him. Whenever Phineus attempted to prophesy, the creature would swoop in to torment him.
Prophecy relies on divine vision—if your eyes are blinded, no vision, no prophecy.
And should Phineus try to speak of past prophecies? The monstrous bird would be right there to silence him, guaranteeing his words would go unheeded.
This punishment left Phineus in miserable straits.
Now, whenever he tried to interact with people, the bird would appear, driving him into near starvation.
In an era where resources were plentiful, dying of hunger was an ironic fate indeed.
It was absurd—one word from Zeus or Apollo could have resolved things. But instead, Phineus was reduced to this cruel sentence. Not that Apollo or Zeus saw any flaw in their solution.
After all, they'd processed it logically—so it was settled.
After days at sea, the Argonauts reached Thrace, a sizeable landmass just beyond Lemnos—the last major island on the way from the Aegean to the Marmara Sea.
Thrace was indeed prosperous, its wise king presiding over a growing territory. Combined with an influx of refugees from Lemnos, the land had flourished in recent years.
"But what good does any of it do me, when I'm nothing more than a starving old man," Phineus murmured, collapsed and desperate in the wilderness. "Argonauts, when will you arrive?"
"Fate has gone awry! King of the gods, Zeus, God of Light, Apollo, I was wrong… I can't see! I can't see anything anymore!"
Phineus had long left the palace, knowing full well the bird would wreak havoc in the royal court, disrupting officials and nobles alike—a detriment to the country's progress.
Such was the wisdom of this ill-fated king.
Phineus whispered in despair, "But according to the original path… Lemnos, Doliones, Mysia, Bebrycia… and only then Thrace."
"How many more days must I starve? I can't endure much longer…"
"O gods… Apollo, Zeus… I see now. I truly see my error."
By now, Phineus understood his punishment stemmed from his reckless prophecies, and the regret ate away at him.
No hero in Thrace could hope to banish the harpy; his only chance lay with the Argonauts and their journey.
From his lookout, Lynceus shouted, "Tiphys, I see Thrace ahead!"
With Heracles as a top-tier workhorse—no, laborer—the Argo's rowers had quickly closed in on the island.
Jason's keen eyes spotted an elderly man collapsed on the shore, barely clinging to life. His innate Greek hero's instinct for spotting a quest prompted him to shout, "Hurry! Someone over there needs our help."
Jason's eagerness wasn't without reason. After all, hadn't he once aided an elderly woman in distress, only to find she was Hera in disguise?
Trusting his instincts, Jason knew that this man lying near the shore had to be significant.
Once they'd docked, Jason found the old man in terrible shape and immediately fetched a bowl of honeyed water, carefully feeding him.
The man glanced up at him, his sightless eyes distant, but then he seemed to recognize him. He murmured in wonder, "Jason… the Argonauts?"
"Yes! I'm Jason, captain of the Argo!"
Jason, feeling a surge of pride, knew his guess had been right. This man clearly knew him; he had to be someone important.
But the old man seemed increasingly bewildered, even frightened, muttering, "This… doesn't make sense. The Argonauts shouldn't have arrived in Thrace so soon… the timing doesn't match?"
"Prophecy is meaningless," Suren interrupted Phineus's delirious ramblings, his tone calm. "What does it matter how you're foretold to die if you have the choice to change it?"
Phineus stared at Suren, his sightless gaze clouded with a strange depth. Tears welled in his eyes, and he let out a near-hysterical laugh. "It's you, isn't it? The one who defies fate! God of the First Offering! The Remover of Obstacles! Great Hero!"
"You saved the queen of Lemnos and altered its fate."
"You intervened for the King of Doliones and rewrote Cyzicus's destiny."
"Now, though destiny dictated the Argonauts would save me, you've arrived early in Thrace to spare me so much suffering."
Suren listened to Phineus's reverent words and each of his titles, imbued with divine authority far beyond any mortal hero's. His expression grew pensive.
He'd intended only to restrain the old gods, but he was beginning to realize he was becoming something of a god himself.
This was never his goal—he neither wished to be deified nor to have people kneeling before him.
From start to finish, he considered himself an ordinary man, doing what he could to correct the injustices he saw around him.
Suren spoke resolutely, "I am Suren, born in Greece, a simple man—not some God of the First Offering or Remover of Obstacles."
He wasn't just saying this for Phineus; he was reminding the Argonauts, and perhaps himself, of it too.
To examine oneself three times a day was always a good practice.
Jason, meanwhile, was visibly miffed. Old man, are you not aware that it was I, Jason, who saved you? That I, Jason, discovered you here?
Oh, you're blind?
Never mind, then.
Jason's irritation was evident, and he couldn't resist cutting in, "Old man, you haven't even introduced yourself. And why exactly were you lying here?"
"Ah, I'm so sorry," Phineus replied, settling against a stone, his frail frame trembling. "I am Phineus, King of Thrace. For… certain reasons, I was punished by the gods, robbed of my sight, and haunted by a monstrous harpy that's left me too weak to even eat."
"Would you… help me escape this plight?"
"Of course!" Jason exclaimed, pounding his chest. "This is merely a small trial along our voyage aboard the Argo!"
"King Phineus, if that bird dares show up, I, Jason, will take care of it!"
Even as he spoke, the harpy, incensed at Phineus's interaction, began its descent.
The harpy, also known as the bird-woman or vulture-woman, had a woman's head and the body, wings, and talons of a vulture.
Atalanta, her feline instincts piqued by the sight of airborne prey, perked up. Her emerald-green eyes sparkled as she nocked an arrow, aiming at the harpy with a keen gaze.
Suren, however, made no move. Such a minor fiend was hardly worth his attention. Almost anyone aboard the Argo could drive it off.
But before Atalanta could take aim, the winged Boreas brothers stepped forward, saying, "Atalanta, Suren, Heracles—we know you're excellent marksmen, but allow us to handle this."
The Argonauts were no ordinary band. With divine twins Castor and Pollux, as well as the Boreas brothers, sons of the north wind, their crew was almost half divine.
"…"
Heracles glanced at them in amusement. Suren pressed his lips together, silently watching. Atalanta rolled her eyes, muttering, "How boring," as she lowered her bow.
Clearly, they all knew exactly what the Boreas brothers were planning, but no one moved to stop them.
A person's taste is his own—even a king should refrain from meddling in another's desires!
The others exchanged knowing glances, and the brothers hurried to explain, "It's just, well, as winged beings ourselves, we felt it would be fitting for us to face such a creature!"
"Enough!" Heracles waved dismissively. "No one cares what you two are up to; just get on with it and come back soon! And try not to get blindsided like we did in Lemnos."
"No, really, we only mean to defeat the creature!"
"Right… and then chase it back to its cave, is that it?"
Suren couldn't help but add, "As Heracles said—get on with it, and don't keep us waiting. Nobody cares what you two want to do!"
The Boreas brothers, having grown up with wings and lived much of their youth in high mountain caves, had a peculiar fondness for birdlike creatures.
They drew their swords with a symbolic flourish—meaningless, given that within moments they had seized the harpy by its talons and wings and flown off to who-knows-where.
Jason quipped, "Two men and a bird—do they really need more?"
In truth, it was only Zetes of the brothers who held this fascination; Calais merely helped him capture the bird.
Zetes would later sire four mythical steeds with the harpy—among the most famous in Greek lore!
After dispatching the harpy, Phineus, now smiling with relief, said, "Thank you, noble Argonauts…"
"But might you also take pity on an old man who hasn't eaten in years?"
"Could you help prepare a hearty dinner for me?"
The Argonauts accepted the curious reality that even a frail old man, despite being no hero, had managed to survive years without food. The age of gods lacked for nothing, and a man could endure quite a while through magic or even sunlight alone.
With the ship's supplies, or even the abundant local resources, the Argonauts prepared a lavish meal for the starving king.
Once he'd eaten his fill, Phineus leaned back with a sigh, saying, "It's been so long since I felt satisfied like this, heroes…"
At that moment, the Boreas brothers returned, Zetes' face showing all the satisfaction of a successful "hunt."
Phineus, closing his eyes, said, "It's good that all the heroes have gathered, for now I can speak my prophecy."
"No need to ask why I possess this gift, nor why I am so downtrodden…"
With an air of timeless wisdom, Phineus continued, "Tell me, heroes, do you believe the Argo's expedition—this quest for the Golden Fleece—is fated to succeed?"
"Are you confident that you can overcome any trial?"
Jason nodded, then laughed, "King Phineus, take a good look—this is the Argo, with Greece's greatest heroes aboard. What trial could we not overcome?"
"With Heracles and Suren among us, what could possibly halt our voyage? Would the Twelve Olympians themselves intervene?"
Though his manner could be reckless and carefree, Jason's words reflected the Argonauts' confidence. With Heracles and Suren aboard, only the Olympians themselves could threaten the ship's progress.
Phineus shook his head and continued, "Beyond Thrace lies Mysia. There, you will lose three crewmates."
"After Mysia, you'll reach the kingdom of Bebrycia, ruled by Amycus, son of Poseidon and a nymph. This violent king will challenge every traveler to a duel, and one of you will have no choice but to kill him."
"Leaving Bebrycia, you will draw close to your destination, Colchis—but first you must face the greatest obstacle yet: the Clashing Rocks."
The Clashing Rocks, known as the Symplegades, were twin, mountainous cliffs in the Bosporus Strait, forever crashing into one another.
Phineus sighed. "The Clashing Rocks… no one can pass without the power of the Twelve. Without the gods' aid, you'll be crushed—there is no escape but shipwreck."
"That is all I can foresee. From here, you must choose your own path."
Jason frowned. "How do we earn the gods' favor?"
Phineus hesitated, his lips twitching as if he wanted to speak, his face turning red, but finally, he sighed deeply. "I cannot say; I dare not say. That is for you to discover."
"The gods' tests are everywhere, Argonauts. This old man can only wish you smooth sailing."
"A test from the gods?"
Jason pondered a moment, then clapped his hands, laughing. "Doesn't that mean the gods have been with us since the Argo set sail?"
"Oh, honored Argonauts! Zeus! Hera! Athena! The Olympians are watching us!"
Jason always had a way of uplifting the crew's spirits. Though he might not have been the strongest of the Argonauts, his importance was undeniable. Otherwise, Hera would never have entrusted the Golden Fleece expedition to him.
Though they had only passed through two major islands, the Argonauts had already experienced the gods' trials firsthand.
The first test had nearly wrecked them all; without Suren's intervention, who knew how it might have ended?
The gods' second trial had almost led to the death of a friend, King Cyzicus, of Doliones.
Both ordeals had left the heroes weary and wary of the gods' tests.
But Jason's speech had reignited their spirits.
Reflecting on his words, the Argonauts realized that if the gods' trials were ever-present, then the Olympians themselves had been watching the Argo since the beginning.
What higher honor could Greece bestow?
To risk one's life for such honor—what was there to regret?
Heracles laughed, "Jason is right! The Clashing Rocks, huh? I've heard of their fame. Even the swiftest raven can't cross them—only with divine help can anyone avoid a shipwreck."
"But we're blessed by the gods on this journey for the Golden Fleece!"
"And remember, the gods are watching over us!" Heracles bellowed, "Even when we reach the Clashing Rocks, the gods will help us through!"
Like Jason, Heracles's words stirred the crew's spirits. As captain, Jason, along with the well-loved Heracles, had the power to keep morale high.
Suren, however, remained silent. In his heart, he didn't believe they could rely on the gods for every challenge. Such trials would be far too trivial otherwise.
"Athena, Hera, Hestia…"
Suren closed his eyes, recalling the faces of the three goddesses, before he smiled with newfound confidence. "No matter the trials ahead, I'll handle them all myself."
"If I can't even conquer the Argonauts' journey, then what right do I have to stand before the gods and propose my grand vision of harmony between men and gods?"
---
The Argo continued its journey and, just as predicted, arrived at Mysia.
Despite his earlier dismissive attitude toward Phineas's prophecy, Jason was clearly rattled. "Let's resupply water and food and leave right away. No lingering on this island."
Heracles nodded in agreement. "I'll handle the hunting and gathering. All of you, stay on the ship."
With his unparalleled strength, Heracles had every right to feel confident; whatever dangers lay hidden on the island posed no real threat to him.
At that moment, Hylas, Heracles' lover and foster son, spoke up, "Heracles, let me help you. I can take care of gathering water while you hunt."
There was a look of earnestness in Hylas's eyes. He felt guilty, riding on Heracles' coattails to board the Argo without contributing much himself, well aware his strength alone wouldn't qualify him for such an honor.
Heracles hesitated, but his friend, the one-eyed giant Polyphemus, quickly chimed in, "Let me accompany Hylas, Heracles. That way, he won't be alone."
Suren interjected, "Do you really need to be so cautious? Are you all that worried about destiny?"
"Hylas, stay aboard. Don't cause trouble. Heracles and I can manage this ourselves."
Heracles shook his head resolutely. "No, Suren. You must remain on the Argo...or, if you're that set on going, I'll stay behind instead."
"You know the prophecy came from Apollo. What makes you think if we both set foot on the island, the Argo will remain safe?"
The Argonauts may number fifty, but Suren and Heracles alone accounted for ninety-nine percent of the ship's fighting power. Both leaving the ship could lead to the prophecy's dark promise being fulfilled.
Suren fell silent. Finally, with a sigh, he said, "Fine. Just the three of you, then. The prophecy said we'd lose three crewmates; I doubt it's foretelling Heracles's own death."
"If Heracles returns while the other two remain lost, that would prove the prophecy's inaccuracy."
Jason clapped his hands together. "You're right, Suren. Let's send Heracles, Polyphemus, and Hylas ashore."
And so…
Nothing went as planned.
True to the prophecy, all three vanished without a trace.
An entire day and night passed. Not only had they failed to return with supplies, but the men who had left to gather them were now missing.
Suren's expression grew grave. No sign of a battle marred the island; if there had been one, Heracles would have fought back with a vengeance. Yet they had all vanished in eerie silence.
Unfamiliar with every trial the Argonauts would face, Suren only knew their journey would eventually lead to Colchis, where Jason, with Medea's aid, would claim the Golden Fleece.
Unaware of the full history, Suren did not know that here in Mysia, Heracles would lose Hylas, his lover and foster son, before the gods would call him back to Greece to continue his labors for King Eurystheus.
For now, Heracles's penance remained incomplete. The Argonaut adventure had only been possible because Eurystheus had assigned him no tasks.
Suren took up his bow. "I'll go ashore and take a look."
Atalanta followed immediately, "I'm coming too!"
Without objecting, Suren nodded. "Very well, Ta-Nyan, stay close. Don't stray."
In truth, going alone would have been wiser; they had already lost three, fulfilling the prophecy, and any further attempt on the island was unlikely to prove dangerous.
But he wouldn't refuse Atalanta's choice to join him. She wanted to come along, and anyone else willing to do so would be protected by Suren as best he could manage.
Still, except for Atalanta, none of the others dared to disembark. Even with Heracles vanishing without a trace, they had little desire to explore.
They wouldn't all crowd behind Suren—there was too much shame in that.
Not far along the shoreline, Suren and Atalanta found a serene brook. Along its banks lay the Argo's waterskins, haphazardly scattered, alongside large, trampled footprints, discarded prey, and Heracles's sword.
Atalanta stopped, observing. "So, this is where they vanished?"
"Looks that way." Suren sighed. "It seems Heracles's fate did catch up with him."
No signs of a fight surrounded them. Suren relaxed, now certain that Heracles's departure had been divinely orchestrated.
Suren bowed his head in thought. "So we really must appease the gods to pass the Clashing Rocks?"
"Are divine prophecies truly inescapable?"
Suren had defied fate numerous times, and on occasion, he glimpsed the threads of destiny through the gods' eyes at night.
This had led to a certain nonchalance—a lack of the awe most would have for the gods.
But the persistent influence of the gods now seemed a powerful reminder of the balance they maintained over Greece. Their words represented an unyielding "destiny."
Deep in contemplation, Suren didn't notice his reflection in the river's surface. His serene, strikingly divine features, so captivating even to gods, caught the eye of the nymphs lurking beneath the water's surface.
Unable to resist, they tried to pull Suren under the water, the same ruse they'd used on Hylas. Yet Atalanta, an expert huntress, was alert, especially on this island.
As soon as the nymphs appeared, Atalanta's bow arced like a drawn moon, her arrows flashing like lightning. Three arrows flew, nearly killing every last nymph in sight. Suren grabbed one of her arrows mid-flight, stopping her.
"Leave one alive—let's question her first."
These nymphs had preyed on young men by the riverbanks for countless years. Killing them all would be a small public service.
Let them go to the Underworld and dance for Hades instead.
Suren wasn't interested in mercy. He merely wanted answers.
Cornered by their stares, the surviving nymph confessed everything she knew.
"So you killed Hylas, and the gods ordered Heracles and Polyphemus back to Greece," Suren said grimly. "Understood. Go seek forgiveness from Hades."
With a slight twist, he snapped her neck, sending her to reunite with her sisters in the Underworld.
Suren pondered the frailty of life and let out a bitter smile. "It seems that violence is never my choice…"
"But, for a hero of Greece, bloodshed is life itself."
Atalanta, however, remained composed. "You're too softhearted, Suren. Would you feel remorse over hunting in the forest, too?"
"No, of course not," Suren replied.
"You wouldn't, because animals aren't your kind. But your compassion extends to beings with human forms and minds. This sentiment won't help you, Suren."
"Why bother with such feelings? Nymphs, humans—creatures without strength or divine blood are simply lesser beings, weak things to be ruled, exploited, even slaughtered," she said.
As splendid as the divine age might be, for Suren, its beauty could not conceal ancient Greece's brutal underpinnings—a society divided by birth and slave-driven cruelty.
The heroes and common folk might share two eyes, arms, and legs, but in spirit, they were as distant as one species from another. Heroes were the rulers—superior, isolated, and unable to empathize.
"…Ta-nyan, it's precisely because of this thinking that I want to bring about the Golden Age," Suren said with conviction.
Unfazed by Atalanta's backward views, Suren was calm, understanding such thoughts were only natural in her time. She, too, was a product of the social and mental confines of ancient Greece.
To most Greeks, Suren's vision of peace, his dream of a Golden Age, was likely sacrilegious.
He gave her little explanation, sighing. "I just hope that all these struggles, the necessary evils, and bloodshed we face along the way are worth something."
"May I never lose my resolve…"
"If we achieve a world of true justice…"
"Forget it, Ta-nyan. Let's continue the journey. Someday, you'll understand, because I believe that mankind's true spirit seeks goodness far more than cruelty."
"What has been will be again; what has been done will be done again."
Humanity must strive for goodness.
After all, why else would Beasts, born of human sins, harbor such profound love for mankind?
---
Soon, they arrived in Bebrycia, where King Amycus challenged the Argonauts to a test of strength, as foretold.
This was Amycus's twisted entertainment. As Poseidon's son, he delighted in flaunting his divine blood and strength.
Every visitor to his kingdom was forced into a duel and subsequently slain as a sacrifice to his father, Poseidon.
Jason tried his best to dissuade him, warning him that he was challenging the Argo—the vessel carrying the mightiest heroes of all Greece.
But Amycus would hear none of it. He laughed at the so-called strongest of Greece and insisted on a boxing match.
Jason, seeing no way around it, let the Dioscuri twins step forward. Once supposed to become sea gods themselves, their territories were taken, and the poets distorted their origins, making them Zeus's sons.
"Let me go first, then?" Castor, the elder, suggested.
But his sister Pollux rubbed her hands together. "No, this one's mine. Don't even think of stopping me!"
"Come on, both of you!" Amycus taunted.
This suited the Dioscuri just fine. The twins both stepped into the ring, and Pollux, with a single punch to his ear, sent the brutal king reeling, killing him.
And so, King Amycus, scourge of the Bebrycians, lay dead. His followers fled, scrambling back to Bebrycia to claim the throne.
Jason looked grim, shaking his head. "Poseidon will take issue with this. We've angered him now."
To kill the Sea God's son at sea was blatant provocation.
Had he known this was the outcome, he might have taken Amycus on himself—just beat him, leave him alive, and sail away.
Yet what was done was done. No sense in regretting now. Lacking Poseidon's favor, they would have to trust the Dioscuri, masters of navigation, to guide them.
As they neared the Clashing Rocks at the Bosphorus Strait, the Argo docked at Propontis, their last stop before the Black Sea and the final challenge: the Rocks themselves.
Propontis's king, who had long resented Amycus, was thrilled to hear the Argonauts had defeated his old foe. In gratitude, he invited the heroes ashore to rest.
And then…
Apollo's son, Idmon, was gored to death by a massive boar. The boar attacked out of nowhere, like a beast possessed, as if driven by a wild, unwavering will.
Suren could only wonder, had Idmon somehow offended Artemis, goddess of the hunt, the moon, and mistress of the wild?
Killing the boar, Suren offered sacrifices to both Artemis and Apollo, hoping to soothe their anger.
The offering to Artemis vanished instantly. But Apollo's…sat untouched, slowly going cold.
Suren shook his head, a sense of dread filling him. "The Clashing Rocks still lie ahead, and we've already lost two gods' favor?"
Poseidon, the sea's absolute ruler, and Apollo, god of light, music, prophecy, healing, and law—both powerful gods among the Twelve Olympians.
But Idmon was killed by a boar, right? So why is Apollo angry? Shouldn't Artemis be to blame?
Jason's face fell as he gazed at the neglected offering, muttering, "If we're already cursed before the Clashing Rocks, how can we hope to please the gods?"
Refusing to give up, Jason that night again prayed to Apollo, murmuring, "Oh, god of light and music, how I mourn Idmon's passing and pray his spirit rests in peace."
"Yet, what must the Argo do to survive the Clashing Rocks?"
"Grant us, great Apollo, a vision of hope."
Suren received no sign, but Jason did.
When Jason awoke, he looked pale, his face lined with disbelief.
Staring blankly at his fellow Argonauts as they stirred awake, he finally muttered, "Apollo answered…He showed me the way past the Clashing Rocks."
"But Suren, it's a price I fear you'll never accept…"
---
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