"Ceremus," Hael called after they left the lounge room.
The king turned around to face him. "What's the matter?"
"...I think that there could be some truth to her words." He said as he joined him above deck.
Ceremus cast him aside glance before shaking his head. "Not you too." He scoffed.
The guard tilted his head as he studied the king's face. "What makes you think she's lying, then?" He asked curiously.
The man gazed at the sea, the light wind breezing through his long hair. There was a quiet, almost solemn look on his face as he mulled over Hael's question. The guard didn't rush him nor urge him to answer. He simply waited for the king to be ready to answer him. They shared a long moment of silence until he finally spoke up.
"Just like the legend of the island of women, my father told me a similar story pertaining to a powerful bull and a young hero who was tasked with slaying it. I believe his name was Orieles. He too was the son of a god—the god of all gods—Anos, but unfortunately, he was a child born out of wedlock. The goddess Inaïs wasn't happy to hear about her husband's infidelity and so she made it her mission to make sure the child would never be born.
But no matter what she did, Orieles survived. As the child grew older, stronger and wiser, it became harder for the goddess to harm him, and so she struck him with madness. In his madness, he ended up killing his wife and children. He woke to red-streaked hands. His wife's lifeless eyes. The cries of his children snuffed out like candles in the wind.
The gods were obviously angered by his actions even though his madness was no fault of his own, and he was forced to go through twelve near-impossible labours. One of his labours was defeating the bull of judgment who had gone rampant in some land. The bull was killed, chopped into thousands of pieces and was sent to have been delivered to the underworld by the messenger god himself. Its pieces were scattered all throughout Tartarus so that it would take a long time to revive itself." He explained.
Hael nodded his head in understanding but found something wrong with his recounting of the legend. "You mentioned that this was a mere story, yet you made it seem like the bull was real. Which is it?"
"Well, some people believe the story to be based on a real tale, while others see it as just another fictional story parents liked to tell their children at night."
"So this bull could be real, and Meliše could be telling the truth." Hael concluded.
Ceremus exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Whether it's true or not doesn't matter. It is unlikely there is a person powerful enough to send a bull who is supposed to be dead down to earth just to defeat us." He scoffed, but his fingers curled slightly at his side. "That person would have to be a god."
Hael tilted his head. "And?"
Ceremus hesitated for a fraction of a second before shaking his head. "The last time I checked, I haven't offended any gods." His voice was steady, but there was an edge of uncertainty beneath it.
"I suppose you're right." Hael said with a worried smile.
~*~
That night, Ceremus had yet another dream.
He was walking through what looked to be a desert. The world stretched out in an endless sea of sand. The sky above was hollow—an empty vault where no sun allowed to burn and no stars dared to shine. It looked as if it was the middle of the day, and yet it also felt as though it was night as well. Time stilled and moved at the same time. All Ceremus saw was beige. The sand, the air, even the wind that whispered through the dunes—colourless, lifeless.
The young man walked, his bare feet sinking into the dust with each step he took, though he left no footprints behind. No matter how far he moved, the horizon never shifted. No matter where he looked, he couldn't recognize a single thing he saw. There were no landmarks, no shadows, just a barren wasteland that stretched on forever. He stood there lost and confused, wondering why he was here and how he even ended up in the middle of nowhere. A desert, hollow and forgotten, drained of life. A place where nothing could grow.
How long had he been walking? He didn't know. Time was as absent as the sky.
His vision started to blur, and the beige of the sand and colourless sky started to mix together, making it impossible to tell which was which.
The psychological toll of walking aimlessly for hours, unsure of where or when his destination would appear, was discouraging. Yet, something within Ceremus urged him to keep going, assuring him that he would eventually find what he was looking for. All he needed to do was pay attention, to keep an open mind.
Then—a shimmer.
A glint of something unnatural in the distance. His breath hitched. He had long given up on finding anything in this wasteland, yet there it was—a pool of water.
It was small but impossibly clear, so smooth and still that it looked like a mirror carved into the earth. It pulsed, radiant and otherworldly, a contrast so stark against the dead sands that it almost hurt to look at.
It was beautiful.
His throat felt parched. He hadn't noticed before, but suddenly, his lips felt cracked, his body starved of moisture. The sight of the water became irresistible. His knees grew weak and his body desperate to touch it, to drink it in.
Yet doubt clawed at him. Was it real?
Illusions had toyed with him before. His mind had conjured cruel mirages in this wasteland, showing him things he could never have. What if this was the same?
He hesitated.
That was all it took.
The water shuddered.
A ripple danced across its surface—slow at first, then more violent. The stillness cracked, and before Ceremus could even react, the water receded.
It didn't sink into the sand. It didn't trickle away.
It dried up.
In a heartbeat, the sapphire blue bled into nothingness, vanishing before his very eyes. The earth cracked where it had been; the sand swallowing it whole.
Ceremus lunged forward. His fingers scraped against the earth, grasping at nothing but dust. His heart pounded—he had only hesitated for a second, and yet…
It was gone.
The sky darkened. The air grew heavy.
A voice—one he could not place—whispered in the wind.
"Your hesitations will be your downfall, child. When you reach for him, it will be too late."
The sands then rose, swallowing Ceremus whole.
He jolted awake from his dream, his eyes wide with surprise. He struggled to comprehend what he had seen, both within the dream and its significance. Pressing his hands to his forehead, he attempted to decipher its meaning. This was the second time he had experienced such an unusual vision during this trip, and while he had ignored the first one, he couldn't do the same for this second dream. He sensed that there was more to this dream than met the eye.
"I need to speak with mother." He exhaled sharply, rubbing his arms as if trying to shake off the cold that clung to him—except the room wasn't cold. The warmth of the ship wrapped around him, the faint creak of wood and distant rush of waves anchoring him back to reality. And yet, he still felt adrift.
He needed to see her. To hear her voice, even if just for a moment. But Trojas was far, and her temple even farther. The realization settled heavily in his chest.
That was when he heard the creaking sound of his bed and looked down to see Hael lying next to him. At first, he was stunned, but then he remembered how Hael had insisted on not spending the night alone. He wanted to stand guard, but instead, he ended up getting into Ceremus' bed. Ceremus couldn't help but laugh at the sight of him, but seeing Hael's relaxed face calmed his nerves.
Suddenly, Ceremus felt the urge to go back to sleep as well, so he dove back under the covers, resting his head on his pillow, facing the wall. Just as he was about to close his eyes, he felt Hael move behind him. Without warning, a warm arm draped over his waist, tugging him close. Ceremus stiffened. For a moment, his heart pounded louder than the distant waves.
He turned slightly, expecting to meet open eyes, but Hael's face remained peaceful, his breaths slow and steady. Asleep. Yet his grip was firm, instinctive. Protective, even in slumber.
Ceremus swallowed, staring at the curve of Hael's lips, the way his brow smoothed out in rest. Something about it made the weight in his chest feel a little lighter. He exhaled, letting his body sink into the warmth beside him.
The king gazed at the young man for a moment, wishing Hael was awake so he could have a brief moment of distraction, but no matter how hard he stared at the young man, he never woke. Ceremus had no choice but to turn back and close his eyes, praying that sleep would take him.
Yet even in the midst of his slumber, the dream of the wilting flower and now the endless desert enabled him to find peace of mind.