Dawn slowly broke. Inside the ruined cavern, darkness gave way as the first pale beams of light filtered through the cracks in the rocky ceiling. The sea monster's green blood still drifted in the water, spreading a stench both foul and dangerous. But the battle was over — and they were still alive.
Minoros was the first to rise. Though his body felt like it had been torn apart, he did not hesitate. Clenching his teeth, he hoisted the unconscious Aerax over his left shoulder, then carefully supported Leos with his right. The prince tried to walk on his own, but the golden chains of barbed links still coiled around his wrists, making every step torture. Thin streams of blood slid from his wrists, dripping onto the cold stone floor.
Step by step, Minoros carried them out of the cavern. He passed through the crack where they had once hidden, then followed a narrow path until he reached a wind-sheltered clearing beneath a cliff wall. A thick forest canopy stretched overhead, casting cool shade across the ground. There, they stopped.
He laid Aerax gently on a broad leaf that had been set out as bedding, then turned to help Leos sit against a dry stone. From his leather satchel, Minoros pulled out a few rough strips of cloth — once used as hand bandages. He handed them to Leos in a low voice.
"Use this to cover yourself, for now."
Leos raised an eyebrow, displeased at the coarse fabric, but took it anyway, wrapping it loosely around his waist. From the waist up, he remained bare, his platinum-gold fur glimmering in the early light, his lion's mane spilling softly over his shoulders and neck. Two ram's horns curved from his hair, giving him a wild yet regal air.
Minoros sat by the small fire he had struck to life with flint. His eyes flicked toward Aerax — still lying motionless, cold sweat glistening on his forehead. The wound left by Elion's divine spear still burned red-hot across his body. Leos followed his gaze.
"He's no god," Leos whispered, his voice a strange mix of wonder and mockery, "yet he dared to block the spear for me." His eyes turned to Minoros. "And you, the one who carried me out of that hell — who are you?"
Minoros let out a faint laugh, his eyes never leaving the flames. "I was once a keeper of a forgotten god's tomb. Now, I follow a man who seeks to become a god."
Leos frowned. "Become a god? That sounds absurd. What's his name?"
"Aerax. Once a slave. Now chosen by the blood of Krasious."
Leos arched a brow again, brushing a finger over the wounds where the golden chains had bitten his wrists. "A slave? Krasious has a curious way of choosing. Still… I owe him. And you."
The forest wind whispered through the branches. The fire crackled softly. For a long moment, Leos said nothing, then tilted his head back to look at the sky beyond the canopy.
"I am Leos, prince of Neosis. My mother was one of the twenty daughters of Theronia, the goddess of harvest. She was a golden sheep, immortal, a spirit of the fields. But she gave up her immortality to wed my father. When I was born… she died."
His voice carried no sorrow, as if reciting a fact, but in his eyes something glimmered — pride mingled with loss.
"I was raised in the palace, taught poetry, music, and painting. Praised for my beauty and my voice. My father was so foolishly proud… he once said I shone brighter than Elion himself. And… the sun god does not like comparisons."
Minoros nodded slowly. "The gods despise pride in mortals."
"I never asked to be praised. Yet I could not stop them. Now all I have left are chains and blood dripping from my wrists. Tell me — why did you save me? Out of kindness?"
"For gold. And desire. The king promised us, did he not?"
Leos gave a soft laugh. "At least you don't pretend to be noble."
Their conversation fell quiet. Only the sound of wind through treetops and the call of a lone bird echoed in the stillness. Morning sunlight had grown stronger, spilling down the tree trunks, painting pale golden streaks across the forest floor. The air carried the damp scent of moss, rotting leaves, and dew — the heavy perfume of the untouched wild.
Minoros broke a piece of dried ration in half and handed it to Leos. The prince hesitated, then accepted it, chewing slowly. The faint sweetness spread across his tongue, softening his expression. Minoros spoke no further, his gaze fixed on Aerax — who lay in restless sleep, consumed by pain. Across his chest, where Elion's spear had pierced through, the skin was marked by a deep, fiery scar, as if the flesh had been branded.
Leos studied him as well. But this time his eyes held more than curiosity or gratitude. There was a quiet concern there, perhaps even admiration — for a man bold enough to defy the gods, or maybe just for the raw courage that needed no reason.
Three strangers, their fates once unconnected, were now bound tightly together — by battle, by blood, by courage, and by words left unspoken.
They sat in that hidden corner of the forest, among ancient roots and mossy stone, with the small fire crackling beside them and the memory of the battle still burning in their veins. Another night would come, and ahead, destiny held far more in store.