Little author's note: Long chapter ahead
Hael returned to the main deck as he went back to chatting with the other men. He had grown close to a few of them, more notably with Euphorion and Marcus, who treated him well.
They respected him as well as admired him. Their reason? Any being that was capable enough of tolerating being in a room with the king 24/7 was worthy of respect in their eyes.
"I don't know how much longer of this I can take." Euphorion whined as he leaned against the foremast, wrapping his arms around it with an aggrieved expression.
Marcus rolled his eyes as he hauled a few supplies and passed it to the workers to fix up any more damage they had missed. "Why don't you stop complaining, and move your butt so we can finish this up before His Majesty comes—"
"Unfortunately, I am already here." Ceremus said, cutting him off.
"Your Majesty!" Both Marcus and Euphorion said at the same time. They immediately straighten up their bodies, giving him the proper greeting.
Ceremus grunted in response before scanning the main deck with his eyes. Everything seemed to be back in place except for a few loose boards here and there. He decidedly said nothing as he observed how tired the men looked.
He pursed his lips, a troubled expression taking over his face. "…Keep up the good work."
Their eyes grew wide with shock, and Hael, who was observing this interaction, had to resist the urge to smile. Ceremus truly was changing and he couldn't be happier to witness this change.
"Does it look like we'll be approaching an island or harbour anytime soon?" He asked the captain.
Marcus was about to answer when Loki came swooping in, a satisfied look on his little face.
Hael was delighted to see his friend had safely returned, reaching out his hand to catch him as he landed.
"Welcome back." He said as he stroked his head.
Loki cooed against his hand before turning to face the others. "I saw an island a few kilometres from here. We should be able to make it there in two hours."
A surprised expression appeared on both Hael and Ceremus' face. Marcus and Euphorion watched in confusion as Hael started speaking to the bird as if he was having an actual conversation. They had always been curious about Loki, as his behavior was quite peculiar for a bird. Unlike the typical squawkers and flutterers, Loki was calm and obedient, often observing his surroundings with an intense, thoughtful gaze. When he looked at you, it felt as if you were in the presence of a sage, someone who held the weight of wisdom beyond comprehension. There was an air of mystery about him that drew people in, yet the strange aura made them hesitant to speak up or ask questions, fearing they might inadvertently offend the watchful guard who cherished Loki like a friend.
Hael then turned to look at the crew and let them know about the good news.
The crew is happy to hear this.
Exactly two hours later—just like Loki predicted, they had arrived. The island looked abandoned and looked like an old and dilapidated pantheon for the god of war.
It was inhabited by stymfalides ornithes—large and gargantuan birds who were vicious and extremely territorial. They guarded the temple and wouldn't let anyone through. And unbeknownst to the group, they were some of the toughest creatures to deal with.
As they anchored on the island, there was a strange feeling in the air—calm and austere.
"Is this island abandoned or something? It looks so deserted." Euphorion remarked.
The others agreed with him, and once again, Hael and Ceremus could sense something cold and foreboding as they walked further inside. It felt as though something was watching them from a distance. They encountered a large pantheon with the name Eristacles—god of war—inscribed on the front. As they approached the temple that was once dedicated to him, they noticed the once grand facade now weathered by centuries of neglect.
Massive stone columns that were once smooth and carefully polished were now chipped and cracked, their surfaces marred with faded carvings of all the victorious battles and since forgotten warriors that were patrons of the god of war.
Ivy and creeping vines wrapped around the building and the enormous bronze doors were now ajar—rusted green with age.
"I can't believe a temple for Eristacles still exists." Marcus whispered.
Eristacles, once known as the god of war but had his role replaced by his sister after his father handed his title over. Since then, the title has belonged to Minerva—goddess of wisdom, strategy and warfare.
All powerful nations and powerful warriors turned to worship her, therefore Eristacles' powers have since faded. The once powerful god was now a relic of the past, and a solemn atmosphere blanked over the group as they stood there staring at the dilapidated structure. Suddenly, the idea of entering the temple felt wrong. However, they couldn't just stand outside in the middle of the forest, unsure of what might be lurking around them. Taking shelter would be safer, but before they could even consider stepping inside, a loud animal cry pierced the air, making them wince. They all looked up and saw two large birds approaching. They circled overhead like vultures eyeing their prey, and a wave of indescribable fear washed over the men as the birds landed in front of them, blocking the entrance to the temple.
Everyone was stunned by their sudden appearance, but Ceremus had long sensed their presence and had been waiting for them to strike. He was unsure of the birds' species, but he knew they were powerful. Standing roughly two meters tall, their muscular bodies were covered in sleek black feathers, and their talons were sharp enough to pierce even the toughest skin. Their long, hooked beaks and large, beady red eyes seemed to stare deep into their souls, ready to devour anyone who dared to take a single step forward.
The only way to get them to leave would be to fight them, but too powerful, even for Hael and Ceremus. When their fists didn't work, they reached for their weapons. One of the crew members handed the weapon to Ceremus but accidentally banged the sword against the shield, creating a loud and obtrusive sound that seemed to send one bird into a panic. Ceremus frowned, grabbed the gladius and banged it against the shield once more—louder this time.
He realized these birds had a weakness, a weakness for sound. And so Ceremus, Hael, alongside the crew members, banged their swords, creating a cacophony of sounds that ended up scaring the birds away. With them now gone, the temple was free for them to roam around.
Damp stone, old ash, and blood immediately hit them upon entering. Cracks marred the polished marble floors, which dust covered and debris from the high domed ceiling littered.
Murals of battle gods and warring heroes painted the walls, and at the epicentre laid the portrait of Eristacles back in his glory days. Hair and eyes the colour of fire with a black helmet crowing his head. He wore battle armour and carried the infamous spear that became popularized because of him, and in his left hand, he held the head of a fallen enemy.
Eristacles was the complete embodiment of the chaotic and violent aspects of war—reckless aggression, wanton destruction, and unbridled rage. You would think he was the kind of person Ceremus looked up to, but ever since he was a child and even now, he had a profound respect for Minerva's more calculating approach to fighting. Though he could see the appeal in shedding blood, however you see fit, there was a certain barbarity to senseless violence that Ceremus found unappealing.
Yes, he was one to strike anyone as he saw fit, but he didn't do it out of pleasure. And he always did it with poise and elegance, yet faced with the image of Eristacles before him, he couldn't help feeling the hypocrisy behind his actions. He was no better than this god, doing whatever he wanted, shedding needless blood and ruining innocent lives just for the fun of it.
He felt a deep sense of shame at that moment. Angry that he and Eristacles shared similar qualities to one another. Hael, who placed a hand on his shoulder, interrupted his thoughts. "Are you alright, Your Majesty?" He asked.
He turned to face the white-haired giant, who had a concerned look on his face. As they stepped into the temple, he couldn't help but notice the pained expression on Ceremus's face, particularly when he gazed at Eristacles' portrait. It was clear that something about it troubled the king deeply. Though he didn't know the specifics, he felt a sense of understanding—that whatever weighed heavily on Ceremus's heart also weighed on his own. If the king felt pain, so would he, and the minute he saw the troubled expression on his face, Hael didn't hesitate to grab his hand and led him further into the temple in a more secluded area. They walked past an altar dedicated to the war god and Ceremus could help but scoff.
"Why do we even turn these people into idols when they aren't even worth worshiping?" He couldn't help wondering.
Hael glanced over at the altar, a confused expression on his face.
"Eristacles, a supposed god who got his own realm taken from him. A violent man who only knew how to spill blood. How was he ever someone people could look up to?"
The guard's expression softened as he finally understood what he meant. They finally arrived in a small room that had left over candles and incense lying around. Amazingly, it remained intact even after centuries.
"Gods are not perfect. They can make mistakes, can't they?" He said.
Ceremus shot him a deadpan look. "Gods aren't perfect? Is that not the basis of their entire existence? The fact that they are perfect is what makes them so divine and above us mere mortals."
Hael let out a laugh. "I think it's the fact they can also make mistakes that allows us 'mere' mortals to look up to them. We know that even gods can mess up and learn from their mistakes." He argued.
"Seems contradictory to me," Ceremus mumbled. "Gods shouldn't be allowed to make mistakes, in fact, they shouldn't even be capable of making mistakes since they lead us by example do they not? How do you expect people to follow you, to take heed in your words, to practice discipline when they don't practice it either? They are supposed to be superior, above us in every aspect of the word yet they commit the same sins we do. Explain that. " He could fear anger and frustration bubbling within him, though he couldn't understand why he was feeling this way.
Not once had he ever thought to consider the gods' behaviours before. But now that he was inside the abandoned temple, he realized that his faith in these so-called divine beings had wavered a long time ago. He no longer believed in them—well, most of them anyway.
"Is that what has made you so upset?" Hael asked, cutting through his thoughts.
Ceremus raised a brow. "Why would that make me upset?" He asked, his eyes turning cold.
Hael raised his arms in surrender. "No reason." He said innocently. "People's expressions change all the time when faced with the portrait of a certain god who may or may not bear the same qualities as yourself for many reasons."
Ceremus side eyed him, his eyes filled with disdain. "Alright that's enough of whatever this," he said, gesturing to Hael's smug demeanour, "is."
The guard laughed. "Whatever it is you're thinking, I can guarantee not even half of it is true. And even if it is, I can promise you your past actions to not define you, not unless you let them. The thing about us 'mere' mortals that make us special is the fact that we are capable of change. We can grow." He assured him. "Also, you are free to believe in whatever you like." Hael added, giving him a knowing smile.
Ceremus nodded his head. He suddenly felt the dark cloud that had made its way into his thoughts clear up. His icy gaze softened for a moment. He was about to thank him when they heard a cry.
The two men paused, staring at each other. A high-pitched wailing then followed the soft cry.
"What is that sound?" Ceremus said. They were the only ones inside of the pantheon as far as he was concerned, so what was that sound?