The sound of footsteps echo across the marble floor.
The temple looms before me, its tall, imposing columns stretching high above. The statues lining the hall never fail to unsettle me, their cold, expressionless faces of stone stare down, as if passing silent judgment. Apollo himself stands at the centre, his chiselled features illuminated by firelight, so... perfect.
The shadows cast by the flickering braziers dance across the marble steps, creating strange, shifting patterns. I have walked this path many times. This was my home, after all. I had been found here as a babe, left on the steps like an offering. The priests took me in, raised me, shaped me, and crafted me into a weapon for the gods. I was raised to serve, to obey without question.
Yet even after all these years, I couldn't help but feel small here, dwarfed by the sheer scale of the place. Now, more than ever, I feel like a child standing before him, burdened by failure.
Just tell him the truth. It will be fine. You're his champion, after all.
...Fine? You failed, Evander. The gods don't forgive failure, especially from champions.
Oh. You're back.
You haven't been thinking clearly.
I clench my fists. It wasn't my fault. She used magic–
Are you making excuses? You think Apollo will accept that?
But what else can I do? Lie? Blame the men who died under my command?
He'll see through that. He always does.
I'll walk in. Kneel. And–
Grovel? Hope he forgives you out of pity? Pathetic.
What else can I do? I'm merely a man.
I kneel before the statue.
Evander. My lord, Apollo! Your champion returns to you.
Apollo. ...
Evander. I bring news, my lord.
Apollo. Where is the oracle?
His voice is ever distant and ethereal.
Evander. She... she escaped, my lord. Through witchcraft and deceit. My men–
Apollo. Your failure is inexcusable. You swore to uphold my will, and yet she walks free to spread her blasphemy.
Evander. My lord, I beg your forgiveness. Her escape was unforeseen…unnatural! Grant me another chance to prove my devotion. I beg you!
Apollo. It is by my grace that I am merciful.
I look up, hope flickering in my chest.
Evander. Oh, thank you my lord!
Apollo. But forgiveness is not given freely, Evander. Redemption must be earned.
Evander. Tell me what to do, and I will see it done. I swear it on my life.
My voice is thick with desperation.
Apollo. You will recapture her, and bring her to me.
Evander. I… I cannot my lord. I am no match for her witchcraft. It is more powerful than anything I've ever seen. It's as if the earth itself answers her call.
Apollo. Are you not my champion?!
His voice thundered through the hall.
Apollo. Have you not proven yourself in battle? Outwitted enemies more cunning than this woman and triumphing where others faltered? Or has the flame of your devotion grown dim? If so, then you are of no use to me.
Evander. No, my lord! I am your servant, your instrument. I live to carry out your will!
Apollo. Very well. Then you will infiltrate her cult. Pretend to share in their heresy. Gain her trust. And when the time comes, you will lead her to me.
Evander. Infiltrate? My lord, that is impossible. She knows my voice. Her followers would see through me in an instant!
Apollo. I will provide you with the means, Evander. If you are as cunning as you claim, you will succeed.
Evander. I will try…
Apollo. You have no choice. Prove your worth, or be cast aside like the others who have failed me.
Evander. Yes, my lord. I will do as you command.
I whisper the last words. The hall fall silent as the god's presence fades, leaving me alone with the echoes of my own breath.
From the shadows, a priest emerges, cloaked in dark robes. His face is hidden beneath a deep hood, and in his hands, he carries a small vial that glows faintly with a golden hue.
PRIEST. This, my lord, is the means by which you will reclaim her.
I rise to my feet and take a hesitant step forwards.
Evander. A potion? What does it do?
PRIEST. It binds her will to yours. But to craft the bond, it requires a part of you. A piece of your essence. A strand of hair, a drop of blood. When she drinks this, she will see you as her guiding star. Her saviour. She will follow you, obey you, love you, as if you were her very breath.
Evander. She will... love me?
PRIEST. Not by choice. By design. Her strength will be yours to command.
Evander. If this is the will of Apollo, then so be it.
PRIEST. Do not delay. The longer she roams free, the greater the risk she poses.
He turns and retreats into the shadows without another word.
I look down at the vial in my hand. My one chance at redemption…
I've been given a second chance! He still believes in me.
Believes in you? Don't flatter yourself.
If you fail again, it won't be the oracle they kill–it'll be you.
You know that, don't you?
Then I won't fail. I am a champion of Apollo. I'll prove myself.
But let's not pretend it's just about redemption, is it?
What do you mean?
You want to speak with her. To ask her about that memory. About what she said.
I…
You've carried that scrap of cloth all your life.
They said you clutched it so tightly that no one could pull it from your hands for a month after you were found.
She speaks of it as if she was there.
Don't you want to know who you are? Where you came from?
Yes.
Then do what must be done. Capture her. Make her yours. Get your answers.
But remember, the truth comes with a price.
As I leave the temple, Damon meets me on the steps.
Damon. Sir! Where are we going?
I turn to him, adjusting the weight of my cloak across my shoulders.
Evander. You're not going anywhere, Damon. I'm going alone.
Damon. Alone? Why? If you don't mind me asking…
Evander. This mission requires subtlety and discretion, I can't risk taking anyone else with me.
I'll be gone for a week or two. Until I return, you're in charge of the legion.
Damon. Me? In charge? I–My lord, I'm not sure I'm ready for that.
I place a firm hand on his shoulder, meeting his gaze.
Evander. You are. You've trained for this, Damon. I wouldn't leave the legion in your hands if I didn't think you were capable.
He stares at me for a moment before nodding slowly, his fingers curling into fists at his sides.
Damon. If I am, it's only because of what you've taught me. I won't let you down. Sir.
Evander. I know you won't.
I offer a small, reassuring smile. With that, I turn away.
Evander. See you soon.
Taking one last look at the quiet city streets, I prepare to journey North.