The sun hung low, brushing the hills with honey-colored light. Birds circled lazily above the barren step fields of Achaea, and the King—yes, King Damonis himself stood barefoot in the soil.
Damonis stood at the edge of the field, his bare feet sinking into cool, damp soil. Behind him, two royal guards held the gleaming ploughshare of his plough—its metal as bright as the morning sun. And a large crowd gathered around the place, everyone was here only to witness what their King was doing—ploughing in this cursed land, where not even a single green leaf could be seen in sight. The land looked like a graveyard for the trees, all were dried and dead.
"Are you sure about this, Your Majesty?" asked Commander Tychon, his voice kept low enough for only the King to hear it. "Farming in person… It's unheard of for a king. And… and…" Taking a deep breath, he added. "This is a cursed land."
Damonis shrugged, pulling the reins of the oxen. "I've tried everywhere else. Donating my wealth to the poor, Praying at Temples, consulting priests, doing animal sacrifices… nothing worked." He paused, looking toward the dark treeline. "Two days ago, I had a dream. Gaia herself told me: Plough the cursed stepfield of your Achaea with the golden plough, and I will bless you with a child."
Tychon blinked. "Gaia?" The captain naturally wouldn't take a dream much seriously. Because he is close to the King, Tychon gathered his courage and said. "Your Majesty, you have been worrying about a child for years. Such a dream is within the expectations of possibility. If you go through this and nothing happens, people will laugh at His Majesty."
Damonis's eyes were distant as he let out a sigh. "People are already laughing at me now, Tychon. A king who cannot give an heir to his people deserves to be laughed at. I had to do whatever it takes."
The Commander could only stay silent, his head hung down in disappointment and helplessness.
The oxen snorted as Damonis hauled the plough into place and tilted it carefully. "Bless this mortal, Goddess Gaia." With a deep breath, he pressed the plough forward. The oxen strained, the ploughshare cut into the soil, and a fine line of upturned earth unwound behind them.
"Like butter," muttered Damonis to himself, voice soft. "How does gold do this?"
From the shade of a dead ancient oak, a soft laugh drifted. "It's because Gold has the ability to cut through cursed things, King Damonis."
Damonis halted, hand on the plough's haft. Out stepped a slender figure in gray robes, shining sandals barely making a sound on the grass. A small-sized staff entwined with two serpents and topped with wings was seen hanging at his waist, glowing faintly.
"Hermes?" Damonis looked at him with a frown on his face, "What are you doing here?"
"Becoming a witness to either a miracle or a foolish dream," Hermes said, tilting his head. "Don't mind my presence. Keep going."
"What do you mean by that?" Damonis asked aloud.
At once, the people around blinked in confusion. Murmurs began spreading all over the place.
Tychon, who was standing right behind the King, whispered, "Your Majesty, with whom are you talking?"
Damonis blinked twice, shifting his attention to his commander and then Hermes, only to find him missing.
"No one." He shook his head, pushing onward. Around them, chirping birds and the low hum of insects watched in silence. Tychon, meanwhile, dreaded with worry about Damonis' health.
For the next half an hour, Damonis continued to plough nonstop. With the sun turning brighter every second, no clouds in the sky, and nothing else to cover their heads, the crowd felt the heat and thirst. Yet, none of them dare to take even a sip of water, because their King hasn't touched any water or taken a break.
And it was then, all of a sudden, the ploughshare hit something hard. Damonis's heart thumped. "Hmm?"
He guided the ploughshare into the earth again—there it was, a smooth surface beneath the soil. With a grunt, he pried the ploughshare free. Clinging to it was a small box of bronze, etched with swirling vines and tiny golden wings.
Everyone's curiosity increased as their King lifted the box gingerly. He heard the footsteps behind him before stopping beside him. It was Hermes, once again. However, Damonis knew that this messenger of the Gods is invisible to the mortals around.
"Hermes… what is this?" He asked in a whisper.
The god moved forward, excitement gleaming in his quicksilver eyes. "Whether it is a miracle or a foolish dream, you can only find out when you open it."
Usually, Damonis would be careful before opening such a box with mysterious origins. He would make sure this is not some Pandora's box that has a curse inside.
However, the present situation, Gaia's dream, and Hermes' curiosity, everything only made him a tad bit impatient, yet nervous at the same time.
Hands trembling, Damonis eased the lid.
A soft glow spilled out, and inside lay a newborn swaddled in cloth as white as clouds. The child's eyes fluttered open, revealing depths like a starry night.
Tychon, who leaned his head forward in curiosity, staggered back in widened eyes. "A baby?" He screamed.
"Did you hear that?" "Yes, Commander Tychon said, a baby." "How is that possible?" "That box is buried underground." "*Oh God, that's cruel. Which evil monster does that to a baby?"
As murmuring grew among the crowd, Damonis knelt, lifting the infant.
The baby yawned, tiny fingers curling around his thumb. Warmth spread through Damonis's chest—hope, wonder, relief. His lips widened and streams of tears automatically fell through his eyes nonstop.
Hermes smiled as he spoke aloud, although only the King heard it. "Born of the earth itself. A gift from Gaia, at my prompting. He carries both strength and the spark of sky."
Damonis spoke softly to the child as he hugged the baby boy. "You'll be my son, little one. Gaia's gift to me, our kingdom. I promise you a life… worthy of such a miracle."
*Rumble*
Dark clouds swiftly gathered in the skies of the entire Achaea, not just the cursed stepfields, thunder rumbled, but no lightning strike descended. Instead, a heavy rainfall fell all over the kingdom, showcasing the miracle and the blessings of Zeus.
That evening, in the great hall, Damonis seated himself on the marble throne. Before him stood the assembled court—nobles in embroidered tunics, priests in linen robes, and the queen, pale with joy.
Damonis laid the child in her arms. "My queen, behold our son."
She cradled the baby against her shoulder. "He's perfect," she said, voice trembling. "What shall we call him?"
Damonis glanced at Hermes, who lingered near the back in an invisible state, leaning against a column like a casual guest. The god's wings twitched ever so slightly.
"Icarus," Damonis declared, "for he rose from the deep earth but looks to the flight of birds."
A murmur rippled through the hall. Queen Thalassa smiled. "Icarus—it suits him. A name both humble and grand."
Damonis rose, raising his cup of spiced wine. "To Icarus—son of Achaea, child of earth and sky. May he bring light and prosperity to our kingdom."
Glasses clinked, and a cheer rose up. Baby Icarus gurgled, tiny fist waving as if to the applause.
Hermes paused in the doorway, looking at the baby's face one last time. Letting out a smile, he mumbled. "Icarus, huh? That's a nice name. Now that my job is done, it's time to leave. Until we meet again, Icarus."