PĦÝŁÄX

The quiet of the woods was shattered by the rhythmic crunch of his drenched boots, branches and hardened leaves snapping like brittle bone beneath his weight. Above, the illuminated blue sky sliced through the dense canopy in jagged shards, casting cold beams of light that exposed his golden hair and stained robes to whatever might be watching from the shadows.

Wild animals of all sorts scattered blindly from the imposing presence, their frantic movements shaking the branches until apples and wild oranges rained down from the trees. The stride never broke. He clutched his stomach, craving a substantial meal to aid him along his journey. As a stray apple plunged downward, his hand shot out with effortless reflex, catching the fruit cleanly before it could strike.

A deep bite followed, the rich, bold flavor bursting against a parched throat. Keeping a steady pace, he moved deeper into the wilderness, navigating past roaring hidden waterfalls and ancient, moss-covered stone dams as the forest grudgingly parted for him.

He continued to tear more fruit from the branches, biting into them with brutal speed. He nearly crushed the apples with nothing but his bare hands, devouring multiple at a time as he moved from one tree to the next in a relentless blur.

Suddenly, his frantic pace halted. In the distance, something hung from a thick branch. It was not a fruit, an apple, or an orange. It was a child. A girl. Her hands were bound together with a coarse rope that tied her wrists directly to the wood above.

She was locked in a desperate struggle, kicking her legs wildly in a futile effort to break free. She could not scream; her mouth had been stuffed brutally with rocks and withered leaves to silence her cries. The piercing sunlight beamed directly through the canopy, casting a brilliant glare onto her bright white dress and illuminating her wood-brown hair.

The half-eaten fruit dropped from his hands, striking the earth with an unnaturally heavy thud that seemed to vibrate through the soil. He closed the distance toward the girl, stepping closer and closer.

The instinct arose to ask if she was unharmed or in need of aid, but only a fool would ask something so obvious given her state. When the girl finally noticed him approaching from a distance, she reacted in sudden panic, kicking her legs and moving away from him in fear. "Fear not, I mean you no harm." As he got closer to her, an arrow struck him from behind, piercing his shoulder.

He fell to the ground in pain, collapsing onto the fallen leaves. As he finally lifted his head from the dirt, he looked up into the glare of an arrow aimed directly at him. Emerging from the shadows was a dark figure draped in blackened cloth, surrounded by a dozen more silently materializing from the treeline. The darkness of the woods had become a home to predators, and the frantic noise of the scattering animals had served as their shield. As the shadows stepped into the light, their forms took color, the sun illuminating the bright, lethal tips of their drawn arrows while the wind whipped through their dark garments.

They were all young men, silent and resolute, encircling him as he suffered on the forest floor. While the girl continued her desperate struggle above, the mercenaries pulled back on their bows, the creak of the wood signaling a final, deadly blow. His focus remained anchored to the girl, entirely ignoring the assailant who stood poised to end his life. The mercenary caught the shift in his gaze. Finally, the youth spoke. "She was merely a decoy," the mercenary said, his voice flat and mature. "A lure to attract you." He rose, the arrow still protruding from his flesh as blood glistened under the harsh glare of the sun, tracking a dark path down his arm.

The surrounding mercenaries watched with malicious pride, each vying to be the one to deliver the definitive blow. He gripped the shaft and drew the arrow out from his shoulder. Blood surged from the fresh wound, dripping steadily from his elbow onto the forest floor, hydrating the withered, dry leaves with a deep crimson stain as he faced his captors. "I am attracted," he replied. He dropped the bloody arrow, the wood clattering against the forest floor. The sound seemed to echo unnaturally throughout the woods, crashing against the landscape like thunder.

Through the roaring backdrop of the hidden waterfall, his ear caught the sharp rush of wind and the distinct creak of a bow string releasing behind him. The moment the arrow took flight, he snapped his head aside with swift precision. The projectile whistled past his ear, missing him entirely, and struck the mercenary standing directly in front of him clean between the eyes. The mercenary dropped dead instantly. He swiftly scanned the perimeter, counting the remaining foes while keeping the girl in his periphery. Some wielded iron blades; others notched arrows to their strings.

One of the youth looked down at their fallen comrade, his jaw tightening as he sought to rally his courage. "For Olympus!" One of them bellowed. The mercenary charged from behind, his blade slicing a deadly path through the air. The rush of wind whipped past his ears, rustling his tattered robes. He pivoted just enough to meet the assailant halfway. The blade descended to deliver a blow, but before it could connect, his fist slammed directly into the mercenary's ribs. The blunt force knocked the breath straight out of the mercenary's lungs, breaking his momentum and leaving him winded. Seizing the momentum, he gripped the mercenary's outstretched arm and flipped the man's weight over his shoulder, sending him to the earth.

Without breaking stride, he charged the nearest archer. The mercenary was on the verge of firing, his fingers slipping from the string, but he intercepted the weapon a fraction of a second before release. He thrust the bow upward, forcing the arrow to fly harmlessly into the morning sky. With his hand still anchoring the bow, he ripped the weapon from the mercenary's grasp, snapping the wooden frame over his knee in one fluid motion. He used the splintered wood to strike an incoming swordsman, parrying a desperate slash before sweeping the man's legs out from under him. The remaining archers panicked, blindly losing a chaotic volley.

He moved through the canopy's light, using the massive tree trunks as cover while the projectiles splintered the bark around him. Closing the distance with speed, he disarmed the final attackers, casting them down into the brush until the confrontation ended. He stood unmoved amid the wreckage of the ambush.

He took a slow breath, absorbing the heavy, suffocating atmosphere left behind by the conflict. The sweet scent of wild oranges and damp pine was now drowned out by the sharp smell of scorched earth.

The forest's previous roar had died down to a tense, ringing silence, broken only by the heavy gasps of the defeated men and the low, steady rush of the nearby waterfall.

Directing his gaze away from the chaos, he turned toward the bound girl. He picked up one of the abandoned bows, notched a stray arrow, and shot the girl down. She closed her eyes and flinched as he aimed and fired, but the projectile sliced cleanly through the coarse rope above.

She dropped heavily onto the frozen earth, struggling to find her footing, and he ran to her aid. Kneeling beside her, he helped her clear the rocks and wood from her mouth, asking if she was hurt or bruised. She said nothing. The heavy air between them grew thick and suffocating as he asked again and again, but she offered no reply.

The forest around them felt deathly quiet, save for the rhythmic rushing of the nearby waterfall. She simply shook her head up and down, as if incapable of speech. "Use your words," he urged, his own voice sounding hollow against the vast stillness of the woods. She shook her head sideways in denial, leaving him utterly confused.

A cruel, wet cough shattered the quiet. "We cut out her tongue," one of the bloodied, injured mercenaries laughed from the dirt, his voice thick with the metallic tang of his own blood. "So she couldn't warn you or call for help." He rose from his knees, stepping away from the girl and walking straight toward the mercenary who had spoken. The air hung cold and heavy with the sharp scent of scorched earth and fresh blood as he seized the man by the throat, hoisting him upward. The mercenary's bloodied face dripped onto his hand, the crimson droplets stark against his skin.

Nearby, the remaining allies groveled in the dirt, far too crippled by agony and broken bones to offer assistance, let alone stand. "You maimed a mortal child," he whispered, his grip tightening until the forest's low hum seemed to fade into a tense, ringing silence. "Yes, kill me," the mercenary choked out, a wet, breathless laugh rattling in his throat.

"Zeus will do far worse to us if he finds out we failed your execution." "I will not grant you such mercy," he replied, his voice flat and unyielding. "If you crave death, deliver it yourself." He released his grip, letting the mercenary collapse hard back into the dirt, head first. As he turned his back to walk away, the rustle of leaves was broken by a final, desperate rasp from the ground behind him.

"Phylax..." the injured mercenary wheezed through a mouthful of blood and grime, the word carrying a bitter, spiteful weight that echoed into the trees. "Traitor." "They will not remain bound to the earth forever," he warned the helpless girl, his voice cutting through the damp, heavy stillness of the woods.

"Flee this place and seek out your kin." Clutching the open, bleeding wound on his shoulder, he pressed deeper into the thicket, the shadows of the forest closing in around him. But as the rhythmic crunch of leaves echoed under his boots, he noticed a second set of footsteps. The forest's quiet air shifted, signaling that he was no longer alone. He spun around to find he had a companion.

It was the girl. Her face was slick with sweat, her eyes brimmed with unshed tears, and her wood-brown hair was caked in grime. She stood with her arms crossed tightly over her stained white dress, a picture of silent defiance. "You cannot accompany me," he said, his grip tightening over his pierced shoulder. "Return to whence you came.

I am sorry." He turned his back, attempting to lose her in the dense brush, but the soft rustle of the leaves told him she was right behind him. He stopped and faced her once more. "You cannot follow the path I tread," he murmured, the wilderness around them feeling dead and empty. "It is far too perilous. Have you no house or lineage left?" The girl shook her head sideways.

No. "Did they slaughter them?" he asked, his voice dropping to a low rasp. She nodded her head up and down. Yes. He dropped his head, letting his golden hair cascade forward to shroud his expression from the open sky. For a long moment, the only sound was the distant, roaring echo of the waterfall.

He turned around and walked away, braced to hear her footsteps following, but this time, the forest fell completely quiet. He looked back over his shoulder. She was standing exactly where he had left her, small and entirely vulnerable against the towering, dark trees. A bitter wind whipped through the canopy, highlighting just how defenseless she truly was in the vast wilderness.

He let out a heavy sigh, looking at her one last time. "Are you coming?" The girl's eyes widened, and she rushed forward, her bare feet scrambling over the earth to catch up to his stride. Side by side, they disappeared into the deep, unyielding dark of the woods.