Chapter Text
Life had always been a series of trials, but these last few years had been particularly haunting. Not all of it had been bad, but not all of it had been good either. Somehow, over the span of half a decade, Kassandra had felt pain and joy in ways she never knew were possible.
Those trials, it seemed, had finally come to an end after the Battle of Amphipolis. That battle itself had been a trial that Kassandra tried her hardest not to think on. Returning back to Sparta, it was not long before that fateful reunion finally happened. Kassandra hadn’t truly known if her brother could be saved. She had talked about it plenty, thought even more on it too, but there was no telling if Alexios could be ripped from Deimos. He had spent a lifetime being a weapon.
She had known a man who had spent his life being a weapon too. A spear and shield, directed by Kings. This man had been met through smoke and blood. He had been intelligent and wellspoken, something which had been seen as an outlier for Spartans. He had grown up, raised as a soldier first, and yet he had been one of the kindest men she had ever met. There was never any ill will in him. He was proof enough that those bred to be nothing more than a weapon could still be good.
There had been many who had preached forgiveness to her. Many had told her that Alexios was beyond saving. Many who could not give her an answer.
The night before the Battle of Amphipolis, they had spoken about it. What would they do if they encountered Deimos on the battlefield? What would she do when the time came? Would she be able to do what she could not those years ago and save him? Would she have to kill him? Would she have to admit that her little brother was already dead and gone?
Makedonia wine was thick on their tongues, and yet her mind had been so clear. It was a memory that would burn into her with no hope of ever fading away. Brasidas sitting there, armour abandoned, looking at her with those soft brown eyes so full of life. It had been so long since she had seen him this relaxed. Not since the night she killed the Monger, when Anthousa had demanded a celebration. They had drunk Samos wine then.
“I think you are capable of anything.” His words had been honest. It was what she had liked the most about him. There were so few in this world that seemed to speak to her plainly, without motive beyond caring. “Even forgiveness where all reason says not too. I know when the time comes, you are going to do the right thing.”
For a moment, she had truly believed those words. How could she not? Not when those brown eyes looked at her with all the earnestness in the world.
Those eyes were closed forever now. By her brother’s hand nonetheless.
Kassandra hadn’t wasted time in Amphipolis, even though there was a call for celebration. It was a great victory for Sparta. They had only lost seven men, and the greatest of them would be honoured as a hero. Kassandra couldn’t stay, not when her heart had been dealt a pain as great as the loss of Phoibe. In some ways, it hurt even worse. She had only stayed long enough to place the obol into his mouth, wishing that she could relieve that final night once more. To really talk to him. Would he still preach forgiveness for the man who killed him?
Of course he would. He was pragmatic even at the worst of times.
So, Kassandra gave forgiveness where all reason said not too. The greatest joy was being held in embrace by her mother, with Alexios by her side. Her family reunited despite all the trials they had faced. The death of so many laid behind them, the pain only made lesser by the hope that laid before them. The pain was still there though.
It had been a year since then. Her family had been reunited even more so. It had been something else to watch Nikolaos, the Great Wolf General, kneel before her mother and beg for her mercy. It was a position most unbecoming for a man such as him, and it had been funny to watch Stentor behind him gap at the display.
Nikolaos had also been a weapon shaped by Sparta, and it had cost him greatly. He had kindness in him too, but he had been a soldier before a father. Maybe, it had been easy to forgive Alexios because she had forgiven their pater first. Kassandra understood that while the soldier had been able to throw a child from a mountain, the father had grieved his beloved daughter. She could forgive him when he had spent so many years paying for what he had done.
Myrinne had shown capable of forgiveness beyond reason as well when she had sunk to her knees and embraced him. Despite the many years apart, they still loved one another. It had burned her heart to see such things.
Their family had been whole again, with one new person to the fold. Myrinne had been quick to accept Stentor as an adopted son, though he seemed to clash against the love of a mother. His had only been the soldier’s life, raised by a General and not a father. He folded quickly though, under her relentless love. Their mater was someone who could not be reasoned with.
Alexios, in many ways, struggled. While the Deimos veneer had been breaking and cracking for some time before their reunion, she could see he still fought those demons. Kassandra had spent so many nights awake, up on the rooftop of the home, and listened to his stories. The things he had done, the things he had seen. Alexios had spent so many years as a weapon, he was afraid he could never be a man.
Kassandra thought of the general her brother had speared through the skull as though it had been nothing. A man who had been kind beyond measure. Someone who had faith that she could reform her brother. Someone who had faith and trust in her beyond reason. She did not speak of that man, and acted only of the faith he had bestowed to her.
Those nights eventually went from two to three. Another brother before her who had hated her for so long, and for good reason. Stentor had believed for years that she had killed their father. He too benefited from those late night talks. She hadn’t thought about it until he spoke of it, but he had been made an orphan long before he met Nikolaos, and had faced innumerable trials. It was truly something to watch a kinship form between Alexios and Stentor, one that she never thought was possible. Through this, Kassandra had formed something akin to friendship with Stentor, though it was obvious they’d never love one another. It was enough though.
Despite getting everything she had thought she wanted, Kassandra found herself more unhappy than she had in years. Her family was welcomed within Sparta once more, and were treated as proper citizens, and yet she felt more like an outsider than before. Though most of the time before had been spent trying to suss out the Traitor King, Kassandra had spent most of her days trying to rediscover her home. Many of those days had been spent in the company of a general. He had made Sparta feel welcoming, as though it wasn’t a state made for making boys into weapons. He had brought warmth to the city that she hadn’t realised it was missing.
Or maybe she had conflated Sparta too much to her idealised childhood before Taygetos and that summer she had spent by his side. Her childhood gone, and him dead, there was nothing she could find in this place she once called home.
The war had finally ended nearly one year from the day of Amphipolis. Seventeen men, including their Kings, had travelled to sign the peace accord. It was obvious that peace would not last for long, but peace even for a breath was desired. One of those men, Kassandra had sought out when she had first returned to Sparta.
Kassandra had only placed an obol into his mouth, and had taken his spear back home. His shield was to be kept with him. Kassandra had never asked him much about his family, all she knew was his father had been some sort of statesman. His connection to Myrinne had been through his own mother, who had once been a friend of the Spartan princess. All Kassandra had known was that he had come from a background of some privilege.
She hadn’t known what it would be like to meet the man and woman who had created one of the finest men she had ever known. Kassandra had left Makedonia so quickly that it had been her to break the news of their son’s death to him.
Spartan mothers were odd things. They raised sons knowing well enough that they would one day bury them and to do so was the greatest honour. They were as sharp as an obsidian blade, and made of stone in the face of grief. Argileonis was no different.
Kassandra saw so much of the general in his mother. The same strong nose, the well carved cheekbones. She had a handsome woman without doubt, and would have earned the praises of many poets if she had been born in any other place. His eyes though were different from hers. It was his father who had the same soft brown eyes, though there was no kindness in them. Only grief.
She had presented his spear to them. Kassandra had spoken about what a great victory he had won, and what a fine warrior he had been. It had been the first and last time she had spoken about him since his death, and it had taken everything within her not to tear open.
Argilenois had taken the spear in hand, and made note of the blood that had seeped into the wood. How did my son die? To her credit, the woman did not flinch when Kassandra told her the truth. She was holding the very weapon that killed him.
“To be killed by his own spear… that is not something any mother would want to hear.” She had said, balancing the weapon in her hands. “It would be a great dishonour under any other circumstances.”
It would be a great dishonour if he had fought against a flesh and blood man. The thing that had killed him had been something terrible. Something almost monstrous.
“Thank you.” The woman had handed the spear back to her. “I am honoured, but I will not keep the weapon that killed my son with me. Honour him as you see fit.”
His father, the statesman Tellis, had said nothing. Kassandra had taken the spear and thrown it into the Aegean Sea, and watched it sink beneath the waves. It wasn’t till the representatives were preparing to travel, that the man finally spoke to her.
His son had taken many of his mannerisms. The way he held his body, the way he moved his hand about. It made her suddenly yearn for the man she had been denying from her thoughts for so long.
“My son spoke of you.” Tellis had sought her out, which had shocked her. Husband and wife had to pretend they did not get the news from a misthios but from an ambassador of Amphipolis. Argileonis had made a statement about her son’s bravery, and the greater bravery of Spartans that had earned her praise from the ephors. Kassandra had made a point to avoid them, having only heard about it through Myrinne.
It was odd to have him before her, knowing full well his son was dead thanks to her, and pretend that guilt did not consume her insides. “He did?”
The man hummed, nodding only so slightly. “After Pylos, my son was brought to us instead of the barracks to heal. He spent days in fever and pain, only asking for you. We had to convince him multiple times that he could not ride out to Athens to free you himself. The man nearly had his throat sliced open, and yet all he could think about going to you. My son... he thought highly of you.”
Kassandra hadn’t known what to say. He had made a joke that night, on the rooftop, that he had to be held down to stop him from riding to Athens to her aide. She had thought it a joke. “He was a good man. I am lucky to have known him.” They were such empty words, and yet it was all she could say. Anything more, and her insides would spill out.
The father had only looked at her with sad eyes. “I have lost three sons now. I have no more to give. It is the great honour a man can hope to give for Sparta. Now I must sign my name, knowing well enough that it is my last boy’s spilt blood that has led me to do so. I am a proud father, but it doesn't stop my heart from hurting. He was a good man who should have lived longer.”
She couldn’t agree more. So, a year to the day of his death, Kassandra left Sparta.
Despite wanting it to be just herself, to travel and to see more of the world that she had been too preoccupied to enjoy, Alexios had volunteered himself as well.
Their mater had been less than thrilled at the idea. Alexios had never gone through the agoge and was a citizen of Sparta by merit of his parent’s blood. And the threat of Myrinne’s fist to Archidamos' nose once more. He was not a soldier or weapon that Sparta seemed to know how to use. He was just wasting space in a place he wasn’t sure he belonged to. That had been his reasoning.
Myrinne had fought and pleaded, but it had been Nikolaos who had sided with them. It was best that Alexios leave and see the world. It would do him good to see people, to understand how life was beyond what he knew. It would help him. They left to very little fanfare. They’d travel with the promise of returning home, which Myrrine had repeated multiple times.
While it hadn’t been her intent to travel with him, she was soon glad of it. While he had lived a life before, it was obvious that it was a highly sheltered and curated one. Alexios approached many things with the same curiosity that Kassandra had when she had first left Kephallonia. It was… refreshing to see. There were moments where Deimos would pop his head up, but Alexios had quelled them quickly. For a man who had only begun to take control of his life, he had a good grasp on it. In truth, he felt like a whole new person completely
Alexios seemed better about dealing with things head on than she did. Once they had made their way to the tip of the peninsula, she had asked him where their next destination was to be.
“I want to go to Delphi.” Such a simple answer. “I want to face the Oracle.”
“You’ve been to Delphi before.” Kassandra had been taken back by it; he had once had control over the Oracle. “We could visit somewhere else. We-”
“I need to face my past. I want to journey there, not as Deimos, but as a pilgrim. I just have a feeling that I need to do this.” Again, such a simple response. It was almost as though he had thought about it. For a man who was once considered a tool and brute, there was a great deal of intelligence and insight. Blessed by Athena, no doubt.
“Then let’s go to Delphi.”
It was funny how they were travelling back to the place that started her journey. Megaris was where everything began, but to Kassandra, it was in Phokis that her true goal opened up to her. It was the path that the Oracle and Heredotos had first put her onto that had led her to meet so many people. It was here that she was reunited with Alexios, though in a less than ideal way. It felt only right to return together.
Travelling was easy now that war had subsided. There were bandits to be sure, but they thrived less in times of peace. Kirrha had seemed much better than before, filled with plenty of pilgrims and less refugees. It was there that they had heard whispers of bandits in the Chora of Delphi. Though she had been avoiding such work, it felt wrong to ignore such things. Both had decided quickly to head to the Chora and to do what needed to be done.
Instead of bandits, they met a physician.
Lykaon was a handsome man, with a warm face and sad eyes. While he had seen the handiwork of bandits, for the most part it was just common illness that were plaguing the people. It was a less than glamour task, but Kassandra had agreed to gather herbs for him. In turn, Alexios had stayed with the man, seemingly interested by the work he was doing. By the time Kassandra had arrived back, the two were having a full fledged conversation. Alexios was quieter these days, and it was hard to get him to talk fully. And yet, he was the one speaking the most, which was a feat she thought would be impossible for a stranger.
Kassandra had stood to the side, watching as Lykaon crushed up the herbs, and explaining the process to a completely intrigued Alexios. Once they had been prepared, he had been insistent to be the one to deliver them around the Chora. It was cute to watch. Somehow, in the hour she had left them alone, Alexios had completely imprinted on the man. It wasn’t as though she could judge.
There had been very few that Kassandra had found herself liking right away to the point of impracticality. While she didn’t like to think of him, Thaletas had been one of them. How stupid she had been in love with the man, and how terribly he had broken her heart. It took only one conversation with him to have her acting a fool, and she could see the same thing happening with Alexios.
The other had been him. She was trying very hard not to think about him at all.
Lykaon didn’t give her much time to muse about that sort of past. The man was curious, and asked questions. Wondering why she was keen to visit the Oracle. Alexios had mentioned they were travelling from Sparta and he didn’t see so many Spartans anymore. When she had told him most of the truth, that both of them had their lives torn apart by a previous Pythia and that this was an attempt to confront the past.
He had been very quiet after that.
When Alexios returned back to them, Lykaon was quick to invite them to stay the night as thanks. It was over dinner that Lykaon told them of his conundrum. His grandmother had been a Pythia once, a very long time ago. During her tenure, she had never once heard the Gods and instead spread lies that were fed to her by people in white masks. Wars had been fought because of her lies. People had died because of her. Alexios had stayed quiet as Lykaon told them his story, and she had been afraid that Deimos would rear his ugly head at such upsetting news. The timeline fit, this was without a doubt the Oracle that had condemned him to die. While she waited for baited breath, ready to have to quell a monster, it never came. Alexios had only asked him what he wanted to do with his grandmother, knowing the truth of her sins.
Lykaon had wanted her dead.
It wasn’t as though it was a terrible thing to want her dead. She had committed heresy, and impiety. People had been executed for less. What she had done was worthy of death. When they had discussed it the next morning, it shocked Kassandra to hear him speak with… pragmatism.
“She was a victim of the Cult no more than us.” Alexios seemed calm, and yet he gripped the hilt of his sword to the point that his flesh was white. He was mad, but trying his best to think. It was admirable. “I don’t think killing her will bring any peace.”
“She hurt people, Alexios.” It was easy to retort with that. This woman had destroyed their family and been the cause of so much pain. Despite knowing what he was saying was true, a part of Kassandra wanted the woman punished. “What she did, it can’t be reasoned!”
“No, but she can be forgiven.” Again, such reason it seemed odd coming out of his mouth. “I have done worse, and yet you all have forgiven me. We have forgiven our pater despite the fact he allowed it to happen. He suffered for his choices, I’m sure she has as well. It’s the Cult I will blame, not her.”
It really was odd, having him think so rationally. Alexios was driven my emotion the very same as she was. To hear him talk like this, it made her unsure. Kassandra was so used to delivering out punishment and reward. Maybe her anger at the Cult had blinded her? His reasoning sounded so similar to… him that Kassandra couldn’t help, but agree. They both decided to speak to this woman, and see if the punishment her grandson wanted was indeed deserving.
Nothing, of course, was easy. Easy didn’t exist.
A bit of family drama between Lykaon and his sister, chasing some bandits and then killing said bandits, it took them nearly the day to be able to face this woman who had hurt them so deeply.
And it was obvious from one conversation how much Praxithea was suffering due to what she was forced to do. She had begged them to kill her only so that her grandson’s hand could remain clean. Years ago, Kassandra would have put her out of her misery. That Kassandra had been so angry, and ready to fight. The Kassandra she was now only felt pity. Whatever anger she felt before vanished on seeing the woman's tears.
Ultimately, she left it to Alexios to decide. He was the one who had suffered even greater than she did.
With their conversation in mind, it was not surprising that he talked Lykaon down from killing the woman and had spared her. Alexios had caught the physician when his knees gave out beneath him, the weight of everything obviously taking its toll.
They had spent several days in the Chora afterwards. Alexios wanted to help. How could she deny her brother such a thing? Before she could bug him about making their way to the Delphi, Alexios had shocked her again. “I think I need to stay here for a while.” He had told her on their fourth day. “I… I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel like I am needed here. Maybe I could do some good without having to lift a sword.”
She had wanted to argue, but, having watched him the last few days she knew he was speaking truth. It was like a calmness had washed over him. Never had she seen her brother so relaxed. Maybe he had a soft spot for Lykaon like she suspected, or maybe he liked the work that the physician was doing.
Either way, she wasn’t going to argue with him. It was time for him to decide what he wanted to do with his life.
After discussing with him, and subsequently, Lykaon, they decided that Alexios would stay in the Chora to help where he could. They’d keep their promise to their mater and meet once more in Sparta within the year. It had been an easy discussion, and yet it bugged her immensely. For whatever reason, the whole thing was upsetting her in a way that Kassandra couldn't describe.
Despite her feelings, she said her heartfelt goodbyes to her brother, and headed back to Pilgrim’s Landing. They had made their way here thanks to the Adrestia and it would be her way back out again. Barnabas hadn’t been sitting around the past year while she tried to reconnect in Sparta. It hadn’t been hard to get a message to him though. He had greeted her and Alexios in Gytheion, and revelled her in tales as they sailed along the coast.
It was when she was back on the Adrestia, recounting what had happened, that Kassandra understood what was bugging her.
She was jealous of Alexios.
It was obvious that he liked Lykaon, that something had seemed to be reciprocated. She had left him in the hands of a man who might love him, if the Gods were willing. Despite forgiving him, despite the fact that she knew that Deimos had been a tormented soul, a part of Kassandra couldn’t forgive him for what he had taken. He had killed Perikles, and while it hadn’t been his hands, it had been his men who had killed Phoibe.
And yet there he was, living happy. Finding peace. Speaking reason.
Kassandra had thought within the moment how much Alexios had sounded like him. Pragmatic, always seeing the more diplomatic path. A Spartan who hadn’t spoken like a Spartan at all. It had crossed her mind that he might like the person her brother had become. He had been so right about Alexios. She had been capable of something great, and had brought her family together. It wasn’t fair that it was at the cost of his life.
For the first time in a year, Kassandra allowed herself to think about Brasidas properly.
Meeting in Korinth had been fate, that was one thing she was sure of. It hadn’t really been that much of a surprise in hindsight that Sparta would send its finer generals to Korinthia, considering that Sparta had only been fighting during the first 10 years of the war due to city state threatening to end its alliance. With instability in the city, it made sense to send the one general who had a knack for diplomacy, and espionage.
She had been oblivious to the war beyond that she could be paid drachmae for fighting on whatever side suited her fancy. Figureheads, Generals, Admirals, and the likes had been of no interest to her. Kassandra had known him as a general first. Brasidas had been, for a long time, only an ally. A friend. A trusted ear. It wasn't until she had spent time in Sparta that she had learnt the sort of man her friend was. Sparta’s first true victory had been his, and rules had been broken for him alone for it. He’d been made an ephor just a breath away from his thirties. It was unheard of. When she had questioned him on it, he had merely smiled at her, and told her not to believe every tale she heard.
She learnt of his laurels, and his accomplishments. She learnt that they just missed one another in Megaris, and that he had known Nikolaos rather well. He had served as an advisor twice over, and that his strategies were considered very abnormal by Spartan standards. Which was the reason he had been so favoured. Brasidas had been the only one who’d been winning consistently.
It’s the things she learns beyond his career though that stick out so clear in her mind. Kassandra learned that he enjoys dry wines, he was really good at petteia, but had very little luck at dice games. She watched him write on papyrus, and marvelled at how nice his handwriting was. He couldn’t whistle no matter how hard he tried. Their mothers had been girlhood friends, and maybe if she had never left Sparta, they would have still known one another. Brasidas had seemed so convinced that the Fates destined them to be friends.
It felt like night and day, seeing him as a general and then as a man. She had liked talking to him, finding it so easy to make him laugh and smile. While he spoke so dignified in front of his superiors, in private he was so animated, waving his hands about without concern. He had nearly smacked her by accident, and they had both laughed about it till her sides hurt.
That night before Amphipolis, Brasidas had drunk Makedonian wine with her, and had mused about the way that the war seemed to drag on forever. How much he was looking forward to peace. Brasidas had taken her hand that night, and she found it calloused and warm.
She had realised it that night, and had resolved herself to tell him once the battle was won. Instead, Kassandra had watched with horror as his own spear impaled his head, a shocked expression static on his face. Kassandra had run after Kleon, and killed him as he had deserved, but she had returned to the battlefield in time to watch his men pull him as gently as they could from his weapon. None had stopped her from pushing through and holding him. His blood had drenched her body.
There would be no more conversations. No more laughter. No more moments shared.
Kassandra had sat on the figurehead mounting the Adrestia when night had settled, and gave a silent prayer to whatever God wanted to listen that her dear friend was at least enjoying himself in Elysium. It was the least that he deserved. No amount of thoughts and prayers could take the grief from her heart.
They had landed in Athens by daybreak, and Kassandra had wasted no time in the city. It had once served as something of a home to her too. It had also been a grave for those she had loved most. Phoibe was buried outside of the city, her epithet decorated in flowers. She had made a point to visit the girl who had been like a sister to her.
Losing Phoibe had been one of the hardest things. She could still remember the day when she met the girl, all knock knees and enthusiasm. Kassandra had been running an ‘errand’ for Markos and had come across the girl in the agora. How that little girl had stared at her, like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Ikaros had been sitting on her shoulder then, and Phoibe had come bounding up with endless questions. No matter how much she tried to shake the girl, Kassandra could not lose her on her way back to Markos.
Ever the opportunist, he had welcomed Phoibe into his home much as he had done for Kassandra all those years ago. They had been a patchwork family, and it had been the one thing she missed the most about Kephallonia. Kassandra had once mused about returning back, but without Phoibe, it didn’t feel right. How could she face Markos and tell him? The man was a good actor, and seemed unperturbed by all manner of things, but Kassandra knew he loved deeply. Under it all, he was a good man.
It wasn’t something she would devote more thought to. Athens was far from Kephallonia, and her focus had been on the grave before her. Phoibe’s epithet was still as decorated as before, which she knew was owed to those who had known her under Aspasia’s care. Sokrates had been kind enough in that regard before.
It was there that Kassandra overheard something unusual.
“-near where the temple to Pluton and Persephone. The entrance to the Underground.” One woman had whispered to another. It had piqued her interest just by the mention of one of the many names for Hades. Most did not speak of the God Hades, more times out of fear than reverence. When mentioned, it was more likely to hear his other names. Pluton, Aides, Aidoneus, the Unseen One. To even hear him mentioned in passing had made Kassandra bend her ear.
“Strange lights? Are you sure it’s not just that Cult of Ares making home down there again?”
“I am more than sure. It was otherworldly. I ran away fearing he’d come galloping upon me.”
“Autumn is here now, the Theoi Khthonioi will stay put there for now.”
“That’s not how the stories go, Charis. Only Persephone will stay there, but you think that will stop one of the children of Nyx?”
She hadn’t cared for the rest of the conversation. Kassandra had made a point of not taking mercenary jobs while with Alexios, and she hadn’t really done so while in Sparta. Honestly, she wasn’t too keen on going after the Ares Cult for the fun of it. Odd lights coming from the supposed site of the rapture of Kore poked at her curiosity, and that was something she had always had a hard time denying.
It wasn’t like she believed in the Gods. She would call upon their names, and say a prayer when it suited her, but from all she had seen, if the Gods existed, too much cruelty was done in their name. If Barnabas was here, he would say that it was an omen. At the very least, this would be an interesting story.
After paying her respects, Kassandra had made her way to Eleusis. She had only been this way once before, but hadn’t spent much time in the area. It had only been a stopping point for her to take a quick lay of the land before carrying on to Korinth. As before, the Telesterion was something to behold. As much as it would be fun to climb to the highest point and enjoy the setting sun, Kassandra had opted to wander about, seeing if she could hear a few more things.
There were some whispers about glowing lights, but they had been hushed. Kassandra had tried pressing one man who had talked about it more openly, but he had clammed up almost immediately. Most did not like speaking of such things, fearing the wrath of the Gods.
Chances were the one woman was right and the Cult of Ares had made its home in the cave meant for the reunion of Mother and Daughter. She knew that they had been good pickings for weapons and coins, so it wouldn’t hurt to clear them out for her own benefit. It would also be good for the people who lived in the area who would no doubt suffer at the hands of the extremist.
There was also the idea that these fools had desecrated a spot that symbolised the love a mother has for her daughter. Kassandra took that personally.
Once night had settled, she had made her way to the spot. For something that was so integral to the Eleusinian Mysteries, it was only adorned by a small shrine. The shrine, however, was decorated with offerings and drachmae a plenty. Fall was on them now, and Persephone had no doubt already gone to her husband below. Kassandra lept down the cave, entertaining the idea that maybe she could meet the Queen of Curses herself. Instead, she was greeted by Cultists.
It was quick work, killing the maniacs. It had been too long since she had a good, proper fight. Spartans didn’t train that often with weapons, so the only use she got out of her spear had been for hunting. It felt good, to put it to the work it was meant to do.
By the end, there had been nothing at all. These malakas didn’t even have any good loot to sift through. More likely than not, they had just settled down into the cave. Maybe they had been waiting for the celebrations to take a chance against pilgrims from across the world. Or maybe they had been just bad at what they did.
All Kassandra could find was a handful of drachma. Not even worth it.
She almost felt… disappointed that there had been no glowing lights, or something unexplainable. In all her journeys, Kassandra had seen so many things that had seemed so fantastical. Some things she still could not explain away. It would have been at least a little nice if there had been one odd thing to encounter here.
It was as she turned around, prepared to leave and make camp for the night, that a sudden crack echoed through the cave. It was nearly deafening, like the sound of lighting in the middle of the sea. It carried the same feeling too, making all the hairs on her body stand on edge. She associated this feeling so keenly to her time on the Adrestia that she half expected to hear Barnabas cry out next to her for mercy from Zeus and Poseidon.
But she was alone. Before Kassandra could understand what was going on, from the corner of her eye she saw it. An odd glowing light. As she turned to face it, the light suddenly vanished. Everything vanished. It was far too dark, and every sense was muted to the point she felt no longer in control of her body. Then there was whispering from all around her. Speaking in a tongue she did not understand, and yet felt so familiar. Before, she could make sense of it all, or even try to reason it away, all her senses came back to her.
And she was no longer in the cave.
Before her was a river. From it, a faint glow, like that of a lantern which illuminated what appeared to be a boat. She stepped before it, not quite of the mind to try and understand what had happened. Before Kassandra made it to the shoreline, a figure rose from the boat. It was in that moment, with horror, she realised her weapons were gone. Kassandra had instinctively gone for her spear, only to find nothing but air.
That horrible feeling of panic set in, but before she could act on it, the shadowy figure from the boat spoke up, with a hand outstretched.
“Not everyday do we get one of the living upon the shore. Come, misthios, and hand me one of the drachmae you have found.”