In games between the gods, we are all but pawns.
The oracle of Delphi was once the voice of the gods,
Chosen to deliver their divine will to mankind.
She held more power than any mortal in Greece.
Until she prophesied the downfall of Olympus
And the rise of man to take the gods' place.
For this, she was cast out and condemned.
But her exile did not break her resolve.
In the wilderness, she gathered those who shared her vision
And formed a heretical cult to defy the gods.
To break her power, she must be captured and humiliated.
The gods give their greatest tasks to a champion,
And no one is more capable than Evander.
The sound of marching boots drums like an engine through my mind with the persistent chirp of crickets.
Damon. Our light has left us, sir. Are we to continue in the dark?
Has night already fallen? I hadn't noticed. The days seem endlessly dark of late and fade into night seamlessly.
The wilderness stretches endlessly around us, beneath the shrouded sky. A rugged, beaten track cuts through dry terrain dotted with hardy shrubs and twisted trees.
The road to Delphi is longer than I remember, or perhaps it just feels that way with her here.
She doesn't complain, she doesn't falter. The chains around her wrists barely seem to slow her down. I expected resistance. Spite. Begging. Yet she walks like someone headed to a temple ceremony…
Not her execution.
I keep my distance, watching her from the corner of my eye. It makes my men uneasy.
It makes me uneasy.
Damon. Sir? It's just that the men are tired and want to drink. There hasn't been much celebration lately. But with your great success today… Forgive me, sir! I've overstepped–
I raise my hand and bid him to be at ease. Damon is an intelligent soldier, but he is still young.
Evander. Very well. We'll camp here. Let the men celebrate if they must. But first, bring me the pythoness. I'd like to examine my prize.
He nods and calls over to the soldiers.
Damon. Set down here, boys! And bring the witch over.
Cheers erupt from the men as they throw off their burdens and begin preparations for a crude camp.
The ambush had gone exactly as planned, her cultists scattered like insects. They fought, yes, but they were unorganized, desperate. And the terrible sorceress? She surrendered. No fight, no magic. She simply raised her hands and looked at me… it was too easy.
I should feel triumphant. Victorious. And yet, this gnawing unease won't leave me.
Damon. Here she is… Melantha, master of illusions! Ha. She doesn't look so dangerous now!
Evander. Bring her closer. Kneel her before me.
Melantha is forced to kneel before me, her chains rattling as she drops to the dirt. Her red robes are tattered, clinging to her slender frame. A blindfold covers her eyes, though burn marks peek out from its edges, tracing her high cheekbones like scars of divine punishment. She was beautiful…once.
I step forwards, looking down at her as the unease twists tighter in my chest.
"Melantha," I murmur, almost to myself. The witch. My prize.
Why does she feel like my reckoning?
She doesn't look up at me. Her head remains bowed, her hair spilling forward like a dark veil.
Shouldn't she be pleading by now?
Evander. If you could see, you would recognise this road. It leads to Delphi. Yes, you're going home, but don't expect to be welcomed. You're going to pay for your little rebellion.
She says nothing. Not a word. I crouch down, close enough to see her face. She's not trembling, her posture is unnervingly still. I reach out, fingers brushing the edge of her blindfold.
But I stop.
Suddenly… I don't want to see her eyes.
Evander. The Castalian Spring isn't far from here.
I straighten and lean back.
Evander. Perhaps I'll bathe you before you're paraded through the city. As for what happens to you after that… I won't ruin the surprise.
Still, she doesn't react. Why won't she speak?! Her silence is maddening, as if I'm beneath her notice. I stand abruptly and gesture to my men.
Evander. This woman really is a fool! Take her away!
And then she speaks.
Melantha. There was fire on the mountain. The rivers ran red.
What did she say?
Melantha. They were killed for what they found beneath. Their screams were lost in the howling wind.
Found beneath? Her head tilts slightly, as if she can see me even through the blindfold.
Melantha. The air smelled of pine and smoke and the babe wept for his mother.
How does she…?
Evander. What are you talking about? Explain yourself!
She lifts her chin just a fraction.
Melantha. The gods' reign is ending, my lord. I know that, when the time comes, man will serve himself and not their whims.
Evander. You don't know what you're talking about!
My voice echoes across the desolate landscape, carried by the wind.
Evander. We are grateful servants, nothing more! I said take her away!!
Damon appears, looking startled.
Damon. Oh! At once, sir!
The soldiers drag her to her feet, her chains rattling as she's led away. Her words linger, twisting in my mind like smoke.
'Fire on the mountain'... Could she know about…?
The image flashes in my head, unbidden.
A mountain village, seen through the eyes of a child. Blurred and vague, but the details claw at me. Smoke rising, fire consuming, screams piercing the air.
A baby's cry echoes, sharp and desperate.
The vision fades, leaving only silence.
I stand there, unmoving. Distant thunder rolls across the sky, a low, ominous rumble that unsettles the men. Their murmurs ripple through the camp.
I reach into the pouch at my side, fingers brushing the scrap of fabric I keep there. Soft and frayed, worn down over the years, but still intact. My one tether to a life I can't remember.
How could she know? It's impossible.
A trick, surely. A witch's game to get under my skin. The men call her a master of illusions…
The sooner she's returned the better. The gods demand her capture. They demand her humiliation, her death. I watch her from the corner of my eye.
She looks back at me!
I look away, feeling her gaze burning into my skull.
I should probably get some rest.
"The gods' reign is ending, my lord."
The words keep circling back, like vultures over a corpse.
Suddenly, a commotion rises among the men. What's this? Shouts now. A disturbance.
I hear swords being drawn.
Damon bursts into view, his face pale and eyes wide.
Damon. Sir! We're under attack!!
Under attack?! I draw my sword, ready for blood. A soldier stumbles forward, blood streaking his arm.
Soldier. Cultists! They've come to rescue the pythoness!
The clash of steel and the roar of battle erupt, sharp and immediate.
Evander. Damon! Take some men and flank them! Everyone else with me!
He nods, already moving.
Damon. Yes, sir!
Evander. Everyone else, with me!
The men answer in unison. "Yes, sir!"
The cultists emerge from the darkness like wraiths, robed in earthy tones, their faces hidden behind grotesque masks.
"For Melantha!" they cry. "Free her! Chains cannot contain the great spirit!"
A heretic charges me. His carved mask leers in the firelight, but I don't hesitate.
Steel clashes twice. One, two—strike!
He collapses at my feet, blood pooling around him.
Another cultist rushes in, only to be cut down by Damon and the others.
Damon. Attack!
Our soldiers rally, driving the cultists back step by step.
It looks like we're gaining control.
But then—
A deafening crack splits the air.
The battlefield falls silent, the sound replaced by an unnatural hum.
And then, light.
Blinding, searing light that tears through the night, illuminating every corner of the wilderness.
I blink, disoriented. "What in Hades…?"
When the light fades, I see her.
Melantha.
She stands tall, unbound, her chains lying discarded at her feet.
Damon. She's free!
No! How…? My heart pounds, and a cold dread settles in my chest. Everyone freezes, as if caught in her spell. Her voice cuts through the stunned silence.
Melantha. This is only the beginning. Now… away!
I reach out instinctively, but it's too late. Within moments, they're gone, swallowed by the night.
Damon. Sir!
His voice pulls me back to reality.
Damon. What do we do now?
I sheathe my sword, my hand trembling against the hilt.
Evander. We return to Delphi. I will face Apollo alone… and confess my failure.
Damon hesitates but nods.
Damon. Understood, sir.
As the soldiers regroup and prepare to march, I linger, staring into the dark where she disappeared.
What have I done?
Her words refuse to leave me. They burrow into my mind, unsettling old questions I've long buried.
The gods… my past…
What does she know?