Chapter 27:
"Safe travels."
"Thank you, sir."
The man didn't say much else. Eri frowned a bit as the man and two others hopped out of the carriage. There wasn't a village in sight on this beaten path. She closed her mouth as her father raised his hand. It was rude, at least to her, how these people were acting. She wanted to say something, but the sting of what had happened kept her silent.
That left only Hephaestus, Eri, and Mestra. Eri eyed the noble woman. She noted the way Mestra's eyes were alight with defiance, stubbornly keeping her gaze on the road in front of her, lost in her own mind. The woman twitched, her fingers digging into her arms.
"Will they be ok?" asked Eri.
"...I don't know," admitted Hephaestus.
The group disappeared into the woods. No weapons, no armor. It was the height of stupidity. In their fear they would rush off into uncertainty.
"They're not very smart," grumbled Eri.
Mestra scowled, glaring at the child.
"They don't want to associate with gods."
Eri bristled at that but she couldn't really argue it, not anymore.
"A sensible notion," agreed Hephaestus, "until you're walking into the forest near dark."
Mestra grimaced, nodding in agreement.
"Ifrit."
The poor noble woman fell out of her seat, crawling back as a bird born of azure flames escaped out of the god's body before her.
"Make sure they get home safely," he requested.
The bird was equally as annoyed as Eri, but followed through without complaint.
"T-that's a phoenix!"
Eri grinned, turning her body around to rest on the back of the driver's bench on the carriage.
"Yup! Her name's Ifrit, my dad's divine beast!"
If she noticed Mestra's confusion, Eri didn't show it. She frowned a tad, narrowing her eyes as she thought of something. "Uh…don't ask for pets. She doesn't like them."
"Who on earth would pet a flaming bird!" thought Mestra.
She swallowed that outburst, keeping it to herself. Though the way Eri chuckled at her, she probably knew.
Mestra shivered a bit, the feeling of divine power washing over her. She couldn't actually feel it before, but ever since she had been blessed by Poseidon, she could feel it on the surface of her skin. She felt as if she was beside a slumbering volcano.
"You said you needed help right?"
Mestra swallowed. She had been lucky so far that the duo had not asked any questions. She had hoped they'd get her home and see for themselves, but that might have been too much to hope for.
"My father's been cursed," she muttered, "by the Goddess Demeter."
Hephaestus turned his head, his golden eye looking at the girl over his shoulder.
"He needs to be stopped," muttered Mestra, "but more importantly, he needs his curse removed!"
Eri blinked, immediately cooling her expression. Her poker face was impeccable, unreadable even by her father. With people who knew her, it did little, as it just showed that she was hiding something, but for strangers?
Mestra impatiently tapped her finger, her annoyance growing. Did they even care? Exhaustion, stress, a combination of both? Either way, their calmness did nothing to ease the tension she felt.
It only ignited it.
"You wanted to know why those people avoided you?" glared Mestra.
Even when her stomach twisted, Eri's face never changed.
"Because even if you help, you do nothing but make it worse! The gods do nothing but destroy. They don't care what happens to the rest of us…or what they leave broken."
It was hard to argue with what they knew, but the way Hephaestus was unfettered made Eri think there was more to it than what Mestra was implying. Yet, the girl didn't seem like she was lying.
Eri didn't have any memories of Demeter, so it wasn't like she could argue, and her father remained silent, merely eyeing the road ahead.
"...say something!"
When her father's gaze met Mestra, the almost manic girl went stiff. When he looked at her, all he saw was a frightened young woman. Someone who had been pushed to the brink. Her eyes were barely focused, stressed. He noted the small scratches across her arms where she gripped them with her nails, gnawing at her skin over and over.
EMIYA's knowledge of Greek myths were more practical than universal, really only devoting himself to the knowledge that was helpful in battle. Yet, countless lifetimes allowed for an accretion of knowledge through osmosis. The story of Mestra was one of them.
Mestra tried to speak, but that gaze seemed to take her voice and tighten her throat. Men always looked at her the same way. Gazes filled with lust or ambition. The rare few who looked at her like a person were always run off by her father.
"Not good enough," he would say, "their lineage is weak."
More like their coffers weren't fat enough. Even pity, from when a few of their servants watched her get sold off, had become often enough to be common. Yet, it was as if his gaze deconstructed her, as if he knew her.
Like he knew what happened.
The smell of salt water sat seeped like sewage, the feeling of fingers around her throat causing the world to spin. She held firm, fighting the urge to gag.
"Dad?"
"Not our place to pry," assured Hephaestus. Though, it was more for Mestra than his daughter.
It did nothing to reassure the near-shaking woman. The smell of ash fluttered through her nose, the feeling of the sea retreating in the greater presence of fire. A glow hit her eyes, and she saw that the god's body had cracked open.
"There's no blood," she thought absently.
His power radiated out, leaving Eri smiling. She basked in the divine heat like a cat near a hearth. Inspired, Eri made to conjure a different spell. The rune for peace forming. It brought a sense of calm to whomever it was casted upon.
Eri jumped as her father's enveloped her own, the mana gasping as it was smothered. He only shook his head at her quizzical look. The girl had already had something taken from her, forcing a sense of calm would have the opposite effect.
Instead, he merely waited. He could feel the power in Mestra. Such a strange sensation, the blessings. Unmistakably divine, yet diluted somehow. It raged within the woman like a riptide, churning away at odd intervals.
If the tales were true here as they were back in EMIYA's world, then feeling such a power was a curse, not a blessing. An act of cruelty that constantly tethered her, to her assaulter.
"How disgustingly ironic," thought Hephaestus with a scowl, "a blessing to grant her freedom yet chains her to Poseidon."
The god of fire's own divinity did nothing to repel the blessing, but it seemed to have muted the feeling of it, whatever peace that brought.
They rode in silence, until Mestra's shaking ceased and her eyes grew heavy. Eri acted quickly, a sponge of green energy flying out. Eri's eyes glowed as she chanted her spell, the energy weaving around the woman's body.
Mestra's snoring brought a smile to them both, the spell acting as a pillow and blanket in one.
"An interesting application," admitted Hephaestus.
"It's just a spell," smiled Eri, "n-no biggy."
She blushed at her father's knowing smile. Her damn stutter got her everytime. The raw manipulation of mana required two things. Control and condensation. Control the direction of mana, condense the quantity of mana.
This was a skill that even the most seasoned witches under Hecate's control could not do. A realm only certain individuals could reach. As a child of Athena, Eri's mind was uniquely suited to master raw mana manipulation, to the utter jealousy of her mother's oldest disciples.
Not even a teenager and she had surpassed her fellow apprentices, in application anyway.
She still lost the spars, lacking in both experience and greater theory. Manipulating raw mana was merely the first step; invoking it to empower existing spells and create new ones was the first hurdle that Eri ever had with magic.
Exhilarating and annoying all in one. All her mystical might, the utter epitome of magic…reduced to a comfortable sleep. Yet, her father's proud smile made such an unusual use of magic seem right to her.
Hecate would likely disapprove but for once, Eri wasn't worried about that. The thought of her parents made her frown though.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
"She…seems lonely," muttered Eri.
He remained silent, clicking his tongue for the horses to speed up.
"Her father sold her, right?"
"He did. It is a practice referred to as slavery."
"...I don't like it," scowled Eri.
"Not many do."
"Yet it happens!" she growled.
"It does. There are multiple reasons that people use to justify it."
Her father's dull tone did little to endear her to the thought that justifications existed. She felt the same as her father. Such excuses would be hollow.
"We should travel and stop it all!" declared Eri, standing on the bench.
"I see," smiled Hephaestus, "shall we galavant across Greece, slaying evil doers?"
She had similar sentiments in the past. It was always mocked. Yet, her father's words carried no such insults.
"Yes!" she smiled, playing along, "heroes across Greece!"
Eri, while young, was more aware of politics than most adults. Gods becoming involved in human affairs was tenuous at best. She was surprised her father was entirely unaffected by the slaying of several slavers, but she attributed that to his knowledge of divine law.
Hephaestus couldn't help but laugh with her. He had entertained the idea of changing the world. He was powerful, and immortal. The theory was solid. Yet, EMIYA's experiences stayed in his hands. He had the best of intentions, a genuine desire to do good. Yet, how his life turned out was harrowing.
The eradication of evil required the annihilation of free will. So long as people could choose, some would choose greatness, and others sin. Was he a coward? Afraid of what he would become in the pursuit of such a goal? Perhaps.
It kept him up, these questions. The constant back and forth on the ethics and morality of such an idea. Yet, as he looked at Eri…he felt he had made the right choice. EMIYA had destroyed himself pursuing such an ideal. One could argue that he was not as hollow as the wrought iron hero, that he could do it, that it was possible!
…but was the possibility worth repeating EMIYA's tragedy?
"No," thought Hephaestus, as he cupped Eri's face. His daughter squealed, leaning into his hand. Her warmth, her very presence, it centered him. Hecate, Eri, the rivers, and even Lemnos. He had a life and a responsibility of his own now, the very kind that EMIYA sought, deep inside.
"Thank you," thought Hephaestus, "for everything."
He owed the existence known as "Hephaestus" and "EMIYA" more than he could ever repay and he would live it to the fullest.
"It's never wrong to help someone," said Hephaestus.
Eri blinked, eyes shining.
"What?"
"It is never wrong to help someone," said Hephaestus slowly, "it's a saying I've come to embrace. Even when I have responsibilities of my own, it is never wrong to help someone."
"...It's never wrong to help someone," muttered Eri.
Her eyes softened as she looked at her father. She nuzzled out of his hand, shifting in her seat to dig into his side. Her entire body pressed into him, holding him tight in her hug.
"Eri?"
"I was just thinking of Mestra and what happened to her. She says she wants to free her dad but…"
Even as young as she was, Eri noted how forced Mestra's desires were. Her words are not in sync with her voice. Eri closed her eyes and hugged her father tighter.
"I love you," she said simply.
Yet, no words could match such a simple phrase. She smiled as he looped the reins in one hand, leaving the other to softly hug her closer.
"I love you too," he smiled.
She felt the rumble in his chest as he spoke, the gravely tones as always making her feel safe. Wherever her father was, Eri knew that nothing could intrude. The concept of her father harming her in any way was completely alien to her, so when she saw it in Lemnos or in the worst cases here with Mestra, it always made her grateful for her dad.
He was the strongest, but more importantly, he was the best. Eri stubbornly tried to keep her eyes open, pouting at her father's soft chuckle.
"Sleep little one. I have you."
"But I-I-I wanna s-stay up!" she stuttered defiantly, even as her body betrayed her. Hephaestus eyed the starry sky above him. The fainting grip of the sun was almost gone as night began to firmly settle.
An orb of flame stayed above them, granting them light down the road.
"Sleep. I'll be here when you wake up. Always," he promised.
Eri's eyes fluttered shut, leaving only two people awake. Mestra bit her lip, even as her eyes were shut. Eventually, Hephaestus stopped for the horses, covering Eri with a blanket and a small swell of fire as he allowed the beasts of burden to rest.
Mestra stiffened, trembling ever so slightly as she heard the god lumber around the carriage to her. The sound of his metallic feet crunching on the dirt echoed in her mind. She tensed as the soft fabric covered her–
"What?" she thought.
Her eyes snapped open, looking up at the god who blinked at her.
"Apologies," whispered Hephaestus, "I didn't mean to wake you. It gets cold at night so I thought you'd appreciate some warmth."
She held the thick, warm cloth to her body. It was irresistibly soft. She eyed the small orb of flame that was in his hands and lifted it into the air. So close it should have burned, yet it was soft. A flickering flame that, against all instinct, seemed friendly.
"I-I should get up," she muttered.
The idea of sleeping near this man, any man, was out of the question.
"You need rest," explained Hephaestus. "No harm will come to you, not so long as I stand."
The words of Poseidon echoed in her mind. The way his tone and emotions fluctuated like the sea. Demeter was forceful, direct and uncaring. Hephaestus however…it was warm, if grumbly. She hated it. She hated how much she wished it was her own father saying these words.
She huddled into her blanket. Her plan, once foolproof, now unraveling rapidly in her mind. Save her father, earn his affection. Simple.
Yet, was he ever a father? Was this a father she wanted to save? He sold her off for money, using her ill-gotten blessing to scam her would-be buyers.
The sea god took her chastity from her, like an uncaring beast, and her father didn't care. The first time her father sold her, so desperate was his hunger for food, she cried for help. Her voice charred and broken by the time she had gotten to the ocean.
Her heart shattered when it wasn't her father that freed her…but him.
The blessing he gave her allowed her to return home…all so that her father would use it again and again.
"Would it change?" she thought, hugging the blanket tighter, "...would it matter."
Watching Eri and Hephaestus only made that envy grow ever more, and now he was here, acting like a fatherly figure. It was too much.
Hephaestus sighed as he noted the way she fought to stay awake, before finally succumbing. He didn't blame her. He waited near the carriage for a moment, before nodding, certain of their safety. After all–
"CAW!"
The best guardian they could ask for was here.
"They took a while did they?" smiled Hephaestus, as Ifrit landed on his shoulder. Their sight was shared for a moment as experiences sifted between them. Ifrit didn't bother making herself invisible, there was no point. She was the deterrent for wild animals and bandits after all.
What she hadn't considered was the idea that the humans would go ballistic seeing her in the sky. It took them hours before they even reached home, racing through the woods in odd directions like she was hunting them.
She had even landed on a rock near one nad gave them the driest look she could muster. Did nothing.
"They were scared," laughed Hephaestus, "you're quite scary ifrit."
"CAW!"
"You're on fire. What else are they supposed to think? Perhaps next time be a bit more inconspicuous?"
"CAW!"
PECK.
He sighed, feeling her vanity flow through. He understood where her desire to be appreciated came from, after all a bird that burned with azure flames was unheard of. To other phoenixes she would be something to be admired, not feared.
He felt it was a bit foolish, admittedly.
PECK.
"Just because I heal doesn't mean it doesn't hurt," groaned Hephaestus.
She ruffled her feathers, flapping her wings to quickly flutter to the carriage where Eri and Mestra slept. It didn't take long for a log to be conjured and a small flame to be lit. He rubbed his hands, more out of habit than anything, and closed his eyes.
His body cracked as his divinity flowed freely. Unlike other gods, Hephaestus didn't have to worry about his daughter's health in his proximity. The constant flow that the gods could not was nary an issue. What little of his power she would interact with, would be safely disposed of by the morning.
His body ignited, the cracks flowing across his body as they always did. Rare was the chance for him to practice during their little adventure, so he would take the chance when it presented itself.
It was the first technique he had developed of his own violation, a skill not born from EMIYA's abilities but rather his own. Taking advantage of his unique biology, he could shape the cracks of his body into runes.
But, much like anything in life, it wasn't entirely seamless. The runes should have acted as intended. However, divinity, biology, or just fate's middle finger proved beyond his theories.
The rune for strength cracked onto his right shoulder. He could feel his skin tightened, his muscles becoming heavier. It was the first rune that he had managed to direct with some consistency.
He knocked on his skin, a dull thud echoing quietly around him. An increase in durability, rather than strength.
Runes, by their very nature, were representations. They were not fixed concepts and that showed, quickly.
The initial effects were always off in some fashion. Once upon a time he used the rune of fire, wondering what ways it could augment is already divine connection to fire.
He promptly exploded.
Hephaestus took a breath, crossing his legs and placing his hands on his knees. The divinity quietly swirled beneath his skin. His solution was obvious, lines of runic structure rather than single rune use. However, it was much guess work as it was practical theory. Even Hecate, who was a master of all things mystical, struggled with wondering what about Hephaestus made his runes so odd.
"Your fractured nature plays a part here, or it could be that your own understanding of the runes are lacking."
She never knew that his understanding was, quite literally, alien to this world. EMIYA's knowledge had forever tainted what Hephaestus knew. His assumptions played a greate role in his physiology than he admitted.
His chest ignited as a swirl of runes danced. On the pectoral, across the arms, and even some on his back. Gibberish, unfortunately, lacking proper coherence to bring greater effects. But it flowed quickly, and he could feel it getting faster the more he trained on it.
It was slow at first, dangerously so, but that had more to do with his perspective than he at first thought.
Mana.
Divinity.
Two opposing forces.
At least, that was what he had thought. Instead, he held neither. Both were aspects of the mystical energies that Hephaestus produced. It was not two, but one.
It was a realization he had months into his training, accelerating his once slow development to extraordinary speeds by EMIYA's standards. In other words, normalcy.
He looked to the trees, quieting his mind. Slowly, the first runic structure he had fully developed came to mind.
Gods self-actualized to an immense degree. Their very perspective shaped their abilities to an extent. It stood to reason that his understanding of his power brought about the schism. Now, he was contending with a flow of power that was utterly unique to him, with its own properties and rules that he had to learn.
It was difficult.
It was hard.
It was worth it.
He smirked as a runic sequence flowed across his body, before settling between his shoulders. It spoke of harmony and balance. His energy flowed into the centre of his stomach, across the reaches of his arms, and even to the depths of his spine.
With this runic structure, manipulation of his own power was a matter of will.
"A shame it lacks greater application," muttered Hephaestus. It was best when he wasn't moving as heavily. The rigors of combat contradicting the conceptual power of the runes.
But that was fine. Hephaestus smirked as the rune
He closed his fist, the rune for lightning fizzling at the back of his hand and wrist. Electricity arced between the cracks of his body. It shot out, the power quickly destabilizing with its initial burst.
The air popped as the rune of force seared across his shoulder, erupting from his hands in a weak show. The runes, in conjunction with the flow of his power, could change drastically in potency.
It was easier with the runic structure for harmony across his shoulders to wield his magic, but it was a stop gap at best. A way to practice and accumulate experience for actual combat.
As he tended to the fires, the runic symbol for Fagrahvel shimmered between his shoulders, before dispersing for the night.
-The Next Day-
The morning proved a more enjoyable experience for all involved. With a decent sleep Mestra was more alert and, unexpectedly, apologetic. As the trio rode in the carriage, Mestra simply kept apologizing.
"I'm terribly sorry," apologized Mestra, the dark circles beneath her eyes having receded.
"My dad says it's all good," smiled Eri from her position in the driver seat beside her father, "so it's all ok."
She grimaced. As angry as she was at her father…at Poseidon…she shouldn't have lashed out. Mestra kept reminding herself how dumb it was to agitate a God in the first place.
"So, what happened?" asked Eri.
"Demeter," muttered Mestra.
"...well…yea. But, what actually happened?"
"She cursed him," stressed Mestra, "over a tree. A TREE."
To her, the idea that a tree was worth more than a human life was preposterous. Yet, the way Eri grimaced was irritating. Surely they weren't the same?
Eri blinked, choosing her words carefully. She eyed her father, his gaze almost inviting her to try. Experience was a far better teacher than words.
"So…he cut down a random tree and Demeter cursed him?"
It was here that Mestra's anger faltered slightly.
"No," she admitted, "my father cut down a sacred tree and was cursed with unending hunger."
A curse made through witch-craft was bad enough, but a divine curse? Even if the two resulted in the same thing, the potency was a different matter entirely.
"Oooh," groaned Eri, "well, he's dead."
"Eri," groaned Hephaestus.
"What? He is!"
Mestra's face faltered as she looked away.
"I'm sorry but if you destroyed something a god genuinely likes, that's a sure way to die," drawled the child. "You said he was warned right?"
"It's just a tree," muttered Mestra, "was it worth driving my father mad over a tree?"
"Just a tree," muttered Hephaestus. "I wonder about that."
"What?"
He didn't elaborate, rather he changed the topic entirely.
"Mestra."
"Yes?"
"Before we proceed any further, there's a stop we have to make."
"A stop?" asked Mestra.
"I'll explain when we come near it."
He clicked his tongue, the horses beginning to speed up.
"Dad?"
"Eri, Mestra, hold onto something, We'll be speeding up a bit more!"
Mestra jumped as strange blue lines branched across the carriage. She could feel the wood beneath her hands grow smoother, stronger. Mestra stiffened as Eri plomped right into her lap, strange incantations under her breath. Soft green threads spread around them, sticking to the carriage like webs.
The girl beamed as she looked up at Mestra.
"No need to worry! I-I am here!"
Mestra actually smiled; the girl's energy was infectious. She hesitated, but she put her arms around the girl. She didn't trust the spell, but at least she kept a solid grip so the poor girl wouldn't tumble out of her lap.
"Father! Let's go!"
The man heeded the call.
"YA!"
The reins snapped, and the horses ran at full speed. A wooden carriage should have splintered apart, unable to handle the rough terrain. Yet, it held strong, the horses running at their best. She had never seen such a thing as strong as this. Carriages were rather rare for the most part. Most were barrels attached to a horse and broke apart almost instantly.
The ride was also impossibly smooth, though that was more Eri than anything. The speed however was something else entirely. It was as if the carriage was stronger and lighter than it could ever be, riding across the wind.
"HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!"
The girl was having the time of her life, laughing away, Mestra smiling as well. The feeling of the wind in her hair was infectious. Even when she flew as a bird, the rare few times that she had, never quite felt like this.
The wind was liberating and the horses ran hard, embolden by the seeming lack of burden. She wasn't an expert, but after some time, Hephaestus slowed the horses, which made little sense. These were work horses, easily able to run for long periods of time. They seemed fine, their breathing normal. Yet…he stopped.
Mestra felt uneasy as Hephaestus hopped off the carriage. He came around to the end, his eyes serious as he looked between Mestra and Eri.
"I need you to heed my every word," said Hephaestus.
"Dad?"
Mestra remained silent, concern growing.
"We are crossing into Demeter's territory," said Hephaestus, "it would be rude not to announce ourselves. Knowing her, she'll likely greet us in person. So I need you to stay quiet."
This man was insane. Summoning a god!? Mestra wanted to run, but she knew it was too late. The whispers of Demeter's presence was felt, her skin bubbling at the presence Mestra would never forget.
"They're insane," thought Mestra.
To summon a god was usually a death sentence, aside from the general impossibility of it. Yet, Eri seemed excited. Hephaestus did nothing but close his eyes. His body cracked open, his divinity erupting for only a moment.
She frowned, feeling the woods around them rattle in the presence of Demeter. When she had last seen the goddess, Demeter had appeared as a wrathful bunch of thorns, twirling around like nature's war beast.
Yet, light coalesced not into the shape of nature's nightmare, but instead a beautiful woman with hair like golden wheat. The goddesses eyes were warm, filled with a kindness she thought was absent from the gods entirely. Demeter's body was wide, a motherly shape to her that would have brought her father to his knees. Though she was shorter than Hephaestus, Demeter never felt small compared to him.
"Hephaestus," smiled Demeter, "welcome."
He noted that Demeter's smile was strained, something was bothering her.
Eri bumbled out of Mestra's lap. Mestra struggled to actually contain the girl, but Eri was many times stronger than she was. It was a bit embarrassing for the older woman for a child to just move her arms effortlessly.
Fear gnawed on her embarrassment, the woman climbing after Eri, intent on stopping the foolish girl from being eradicated by a Goddess for her disrespect.
"Oooh! Who's this?"
"...huh?" thought Mestra.
Her arms hung loosely by her sides as she watched Eri beam. Seemingly catching herself, the young girl bowed, the hard lesson learned as she kept her eyes down as she came to a bumbling stop in front of Demeter.
"I am Eri, m'lady."
The goddess of harvests smiled, grasping at Eri's bowed face with her finger tips.
"Let me see your face, child."
Eri looked up, smiling as Demeter smooshed her face.
"Oh you've grown wonderfully. I remember you as just a small babe. I trust you're listening to your father…especially now?"
Eri blushed a bit and nodded.
"Good. Now, what brings you so close to me, nephew? You know you didn't need to stop by just because of Olympus."
Eri blinked. She had rarely seen Demeter, not because of aversion, but rather due to being busy. Her father made concentrated efforts to visit his aunt, but when the opportunity came to bring her along, Eri was always busy with a ritual of some sort with her mother.
Honestly, if she didn't know any better, she assumed Hecate was keeping her home on purpose. She didn't know why though. Demeter was warm and motherly. The goddess even winked at her as Eri continued to stare. Her warmth tickled the same spot Hecate always did.
They were different, but she preferred her mother over this enveloping warmth, nice as it was.
"I didn't have to," admitted Hephaestus, "but I want to."
The goddess beamed, BEAMED, at the god before her. Mestra's brain was still trying to work its way back on. These were gods? But they seemed like…people? Demeter came across like a joyful mother, granted far happier and beautiful than any mother Mestra had in memory, but it was still jarring.
This woman cursed her father? Really?
Demeter placed a motherly hand on Hephaestus' cheek, rubbing her thumb across his face. Demeter laughed at the way he grew uncomfortable, appreciating that he allowed her touch, even if he lightly backed away from it after a moment.
"Such a sweet boy. How that shrew made you I'll never know," she muttered.
The sky darkened, and with a snap from Demeter, it dispersed.
"You have to stop that," muttered Hephaestus, "it's not worth the headache for you."
"Worried about me, nephew? Don't be. Me and my sisters spat about everything. Even Hestia has had some choice words with her. I don't even know why Hera is so stubborn about it all."
"Does it matter?" asked Hephaestus.
"...of course it does Nephew. It always does. Now…knowing you, there's another reason you're here as well."
Demeter's eyes locked onto hers and for a moment. Demeter's eyes widened in recognition. But rather than settle into something like indignation, she seemed perplexed.
"His daughter?" she muttered. The goddess turned to her nephew. "Is there a reason you have that human's child with you?"
Demeter's smile took on a cruel tinge, her eyes alight with the knowledge of what she had cursed her father with.
"Did he finally expire?"
Mestra's fists clenched, but she stayed her tongue.
"No," said Hephaestus, "I collected her from slavers. Her father sold her to them to feed his hunger."
"What."
The dead tone did little to dull the anger Mestra felt from her words. She didn't know? Bullshit.
"I see. You didn't know," muttered Hephaestus.
"Of course I didn't?" stressed Demeter, "I've been too busy trying to save Ceres!"
Demeter's eyes shone on her, her blonde hair turning white.
"That child's father cut her tree down, even after I warned him! A simple death was too good for that disgusting filth…and now he's selling his own child!? Humans, bah!"
Demeter eyed her deeper, her frown growing.
"Poseidon's filthy touch as well…I take it you wish for me to remove her father's curse?"
Her reluctance was plain. Mestra's hope shriveled as Hephaestus spoke.
"No. The man deserves his fate."
"What!?"
Eri was with her at least…but even she wilted at Hephaestus' stoic look. Mestra's desperation didn't move Hephaestus an inch.
"The man was warned. As much as I believe the curse is too much…the fact remains that he invited it onto himself."
Hephaestus was also unwilling to alienate Demeter over this matter. If it was a simple tree, of course he would. It was vain and stupid. But if it was Ceres, Demeter's trusted attendant and friend?
That was attempted murder, not arrogant stupidity. Saving absolutely everyone came at a cost…one that Hephaestus was not going to pay.
"My main concern is not the man, but his people. Demeter, tell me, has this not extended beyond what you intended?"
She remained silent and Mestra's anger grew as the goddess spoke.
"He was a punishment for the rest of them."
"What did we ever do!"
Mestra covered her mouth immediately. She was going to die. Demeter's finger pointed at her, but Hephaestus was already between them. Mestra could feel the confluence of divinity that echoed between the two gods. Her skin shivered from the feeling of fire warming across her body, and a few pricks of thorns scraping against her face.
"...her disrespect must be answered for Hephaestus, stand aside."
"Her father's actions are punishment enough I'd wager…and she has a point. You warned her father…but you punish his people?"
The oppressive feeling disappeared off Mestra's face, but Hephaestus' divinity still enshrouded her.
"They did nothing to stop their king," scoffed Demeter. "His so-called people didn't just cut down Ceres' tree, but demolished the forest that surrounded her, all because of his spite! I have nymphs dying, Hephaestus, dying!"
Demeter scowled, reigning herself in.
"I hold my anger for you nephew, but I will not be lifting any curses nor my punishment. They stood by and did nothing! They allowed my Ceres to die with their inaction…so yes…their punishment is deserved. After all, you've made a similar argument have you not, Nephew?"
Hephaestus got her perspective. After living with Gods for a few decades, he had come to understand that Gods viewed humanity's free will with an envy so potent it was nigh reverence. The ability to choose and act in anyway you choose? It would be a gift beyond any other for the gods.
To them, humans squandered it.
Yet, to humans, there were factors. Actions that if taken would have repercussions they didn't want to endure. They were not ageless and powerful like the gods. No convenient system like divine rules to shorten their actions.
They merely were trying their best. In some respects, he agreed with Demeter. A direct warning from a God and you did nothing to stop the idiot from cutting down a tree?
Something had to be done…but this?
"So…slavery."
Demeter looked away.
"That was not my intent," she muttered.
"Intent matters little with the consequences…that's what you told me."
She scowled, but sighed.
"What is your proposal then? Because I will not be lifting my curse, nor Dionysus'."
"Dionysus is involved?" muttered Hephaestus.
The god of madness and wine rarely got involved in human affairs, preferring to party and relax the night away. Unless it affected him directly than…he…oh. Hephaestus' face shriveled up a bit.
"Him and Ceres?"
Demeter nodded, her own displeasure visible.
"...seriously?"
"I am as confused as you," she drawled. "...you have a proposal."
It wasn't a question. She could see the way Hephaestus was already brewing something.
"You said it yourself, that he is a punishment for their inaction," muttered Hephaestus, "has Ceres passed yet?"
"She will be. I've…tried to ease their suffering as best I can, but the damage is done."
Ceres and the other nymphs had served her faithfully for centuries. They deserved every effort she could expand to lengthen their lives, even if only for a few moments.
"Can you regrow the trees?"
"Regrowing that forest matters little, Nephew," she whispered, "once their tree is severed…their fate is sealed."
"If the damage can be repaired can you regrow the forests?"
"Hephaestus, you're not listening–"
She stalled as she eyed him, the confidence of his gaze. She had heard rumors that Hephaestus could give his divinity freely and accept divinity in return. She had thought it the mad ravings of Zeus and the others.
"..."
"I can help them," said Hephaestus, his hand on her shoulder, "I promise you."
Apollo declared that the sun was filled with the hopes of man, Dionysus proclaimed that he alone was the "enlightened one" whenever he became drunk, and even Athena proclaimed that no other god could match her in warfare.
The gods were always full of hot air, so she had assumed this rumour was another round of boasting from another god. Admittedly, she had given it some thought when Ceres mentioned the rapid recovery of his home and the nymphs that remained there, but they had both dismissed it.
Impossible was impossible….until someone made it possible. It would explain why the nymphs were so tight lipped with Ceres.
"The rumors are true?" she whispered.
"If they are alive, I can help."
The human power of free will allowed them the power to choose. But, the freedom to choose was not the absence of consequences. Mestra's father had to suffer for the choices that he made.
"After they are saved, I humbly request that her people no longer suffer under his rule."
Demeter looked more peeved than ever, but she sighed, nodding to his request.
"Very well."
She eyed the horse carriage.
"...it will take you two days to get to Ceres' tree with that carriage. Come with me."
Demeter eyed Mestra. With the hope that her friend could be healed, she eyed the girl with a more pitying gaze.
"Come child, I won't leave you to fend for yourself."
Mestra was hesitant, but she followed Eri and the others as they huddled around Demeter. The goddess waved her arms and the world shifted entirely. Hephaestus had been here before, in Demeter's personal realm. Here, the sun was always shining, the flowers in full bloom, and the nymphs and spirits frolicked without care. Mestra cringed at the sheer color but her eyes widened in wonder as she saw the realm of Demeter with her own eyes.
It was a beautiful sight, nature at its finest with flowers and plants that Mestra didn't even know could exist. It made the next sight so jarring. Amidst a sea of color and life, there was a patch of plant life that was withered, drained of essence.
Within it, were husks of women. Mestra almost gagged, seeing their cracked pappery skin. Their lips were chapped, their slight shivering breaking their skin little by little. Wisps of energy was wafting into them, but it did nothing to cease their symptoms, only their pain.
"I've kept them comfortable," admitted Demeter, "but without their trees, they cannot truly recover."
"I take it that simply regrowing the tree does nothing?" questioned Hephaestus.
"No," muttered Demeter aggressively, "they are connected to their tree for good or ill."
If the tree dies, so does the nymph. The necrotic energy, once infested, could not be removed with something as simple as rejuvenating the tree. The necrotic energy would strengthen the tether between the spirit and their tree.
To the gods, divinity was everything, and looking for a solution for who they considered lessers, was not high on their priorities, with Demeter being one of the few exceptions.
Her research had allowed her to extend the lives of nymphs who had been infected, and ease their pain. Far from her goal, but progress. Though it did little to assuage her anger or her despair.
Hephaestus smiled as Eri came forward, her arms outstretched, effort clear across her face. She muttered under her breath, words of power, of solace, and of peace. A pinkish hue was weaved from her hands, draping across the women in agony. The sigh of relief that escaped them sounded like twigs breaking in her ears.
"These are spirits?" muttered Mestra.
"Thank you little one," smiled Demeter, ignoring the human woman.
Eri pouted, but kept her focus.
"Is this all of them?" asked Hephaestus.
"No. Only the ones that I could safely bring here. The others, and Ceres, remain with their broken homes."
Mestra recalled what her father had done. After cutting the tree and taking the wood, he took an axe to the stump and simply hammered on it. His petty greed clouding his better judgement. Hephaestus knelt to the first nymph.
She moaned in pain as his hand touched her skin, but before their very eyes torrents of fire eased from his arm, the cracks that glowed seeping a flame that didn't burn. Rather, it was funneled into the weeping crinkled skin of the nymph. Her features eased, her dull grey hair returning to a vibrant shade of yellow. The once sickly nymph reverted to a youthful lady. She stood up abruptly, looking at her arms. Her voice echoed no words, just the swaying of branches.
The connection to her tree was burned away. His divinity a searing, almost purifying, force. Demeter's eyes were wide, her heart swelling with hope as the nymph eyed their own body.
Seeing a nymph directly made Mestra twinge a bit. Having seen a wreck of a person rejuvenated was a good thing…but the idea of it brought a new devastation to what her father had wrought. They weren't simply trees that they had almost killed. Not anymore.
The nymph's hair was already starting to wilt a bit.
"Go on," urged Demeter, "my realm is open to you until you find a new home."
The nymph smiled, dispersing into a tree not far from them. The once emerald leaves turned a yellowish hue.
"What a relief," muttered Demeter, "so it can be done."
Hephaestus placed his hand on the ground, closing his eyes.
"Aunt Demeter…can you please keep Eri back?"
"Dad?"
"Of course, dear."
Eri went to speak, only to murmur as fire surrounded her father. This was not the spurts of fire he would summon, nor the flames he'd breathed when he needed the extra heat at his forge. For a brief moment, the restraint was lifted, and the flames roared.
It was a vicious thing, seeping from the cracks of Hephaestus' body, screaming as if to burn the world. Mestra felt the heat even from here, her lips cracking from the dry heat. It funneled around him, the fire cracking like thunder. Ash blossomed, the nymphs logically having perished. Yet, from the ashes they rose, laughter and cheer amongst the hellish flames.
To her, it was pure madness, the nymphs alive and well, dancing amongst the fire. It should have devoured them, a voracious appetite to burn and yet it wasn't. An affront to nature itself, and they revelled in it. Their laughter faded as Demeter assigned each a new home, until the last one bowed to Hephaestus, but this time in human words.
"Thank you, Guardian."
Demeter stiffened at the word, the meaning of something to her. Mestra struggled to try and understand what it meant. There was a weight to it, something beyond just the standard meaning. It eluded her and she let it rest. She was sure that thinking further on it would be what teetered what was left of her sanity after such a sight. The cracks on the god's skin closed, leaving unmarred flesh. The flames sputtered
"It is done," muttered Hephaestus.
The flames sputtered out, leaving a perfect circle of blackened earth. The ground shuddered as new life flowed, replacing the scorched earth.
"Thank you, nephew," whispered Demeter.
He may have been standing strong, but Demeter could feel the sheer effort it took to rejuvenate them.
"Nephew," she muttered coming near him, "are you sure–"
A smile silenced her concerns. Demeter couldn't help but laugh as Eri came running up, almost jumping around them.
"That was so cool! W-w-what was that!"
"Adorable," thought Demeter at Eri's stutter.
"I simply gave them a boost," explained Hephaestus, smiling at his daughter's exuberance, "and burned the connection from their tree."
His lessons with Hecate had given Hephaestus a greater perspective on his rather erratic divinity. He had once thought his mana and divinity were separate, yet entangled. That was his own interpretation at play. As gods self actualized, so did their power to a degree. As he embraced his unique nature, his talents grew. He could actively direct and intervene with other divine energies.
Blessings remained, um, explosive unfortunately.
"That poor bird," thought Hephaestus.
Still, those failures allowed him the skill needed to weave his energy freely in the way that he desired. It was a feat that Demeter was jealous of, to a degree. But her petty nature had no place here, as she urged Hephaestus forward.
"I'll bring you as close as I can. Ceres was one of the few that I trusted as an anchor for my realms."
There was a silence as Demeter struggled to weave a portal from her realm. With Ceres's life waning, Demeter's hold was slipping as well. At Hephaestus' patient expression she couldn't help but look away a bit.
"I lack Hera's skill to weave without assistance."
He nodded. There was no anger, no disrespect. It was a bit of a sore topic for her admittedly. Both Hestia and Hera had greater skill in weaving than she did. Whenever her lack of skill would become apparent, no god ever remained silent at her deficiencies. Even Hephaestus, from what she saw, eclipsed her entirely.
Yet, his gaze remained consistent. The only thing on his mind was the task at hand. She waved her hand. Even now her lack of skill showed itself, the gate taking a moment to form. Her vulnerability laid bare and yet he did nothing.
"..."
It struck her then. No one had ever been good enough for Perspehone. They were all the same. Brutish, forceful, disrespectful, the list went on. Was it so jarring to ask for a bit of respect? To ask someone to respect her boundaries and desires? Here was a God that she would have been proud to call a son. His core may have been a cracked, rather ugly, thing but the content of his character were unmatched.
The realization dawned on her. Her pride for being his aunt that actually loved him withering in the knowledge that…in someways she was just as bad as her sister. A single name echoed in her head.
Zeus.
So desperate for affection and love, so needy. He was annoying. He didn't suffer as she and the others did, yet he claimed blood ties to them. As if family was something made, rather than built. Honestly, she spent a night with him simply to quell his foolish desires for a family.
"Demeter?"
Did she not do the very same thing to Zeus that Hera did to Hephaestus? He was her brother, her genuine family, but she rejected him…because they were different.
"Lady Demeter?"
…She had made amends with Persephone…it was still rocky, but her daughter always remained in contact with her. Demeter looked to the sky, her eyes feeling clear for the first time.
"Aunt Demeter?"
The voice shook her from her thoughts, the steady hand on her shoulder warm with concern.
"Are you alright?"
"I am fine, Nephew," smiled Demeter, "just lost in thought. The gate will open soon."
Her heart swelled a bit at the way he looked her over. When he was satisfied, he merely nodded.
"Eri, come."
The girl scrambled from Demeter's side, running up her father to land on his shoulder with a graceful plop. She smiled as she turned to Demeter.
"Bye Lady Demeter! You're a lot nicer than–EEP!"
Hephaestus' finger lightly tapped Eri's sensitive sides, making the girl screech as she held them.
"What did I tell you about being careful with your words?"
"Sorry!" she muttered.
The gate opened, a swirl of energy. Demeter turned to Mestra.
"I don't believe I've extended an invitation to you?"
The human girl moved quickly to match Hephaestus's stride. As the gate swirled closed, she couldn't help but wonder what it was that made Hephaestus this way. The abandonment only explained so much. What made a god not even close to his first century so steady and focused?
She sighed.
"Zeus…."
Once upon a time, even muttering her brother's name would invoke a reaction. The serene sky was her only response.
-Hephaestus, Eri, and Mestra-
As they exited the gate, Hephaestus was brought face first to the realms that Mestra called home. It wasn't a large domain. Merely the home of a noble and the village that surrounded him. The homes of soldiers and farmers alike littered the vast domain he saw, with a large villa of sorts acting as the head. It was obviously the home of the nobleman himself.
They were just outside the village itself, a pair of soldiers patrolling around.
"Give me a moment," cautioned Mestra, "I'll make sure they let us pass."
She moved quickly, Mestra's thoughts cnetred less on getting back home and more so with making sure the soldiers didn't get themselves killed facing a god. Hephaestus knelt beside Eri, noting the way she was looking around.
"What do you see?" he asked.
While Hecate taught her magic, her father taught her other skills. Reading the stars, following the position of the sun, navigation, fishing, hunting, the list went on. The only direct thing her father had yet to teach her was outright combat, but that would come with time.
Lately, he had been asking her to analyze their surroundings, taking note of what she saw and how she interpreted what she saw. Eri's eyes shone a bit as she droned on.
"The people are scared."
He nodded, agreeing with her. The people that worked through-out the village were on a razor's edge.
"They're filling carts with food?" she muttered, "that's weird."
She pursed her lips.
"...if he's really eating that much, the curse must make it where he doesn't just feel full, he's not full."
She grimaced.
"Brutal. The soldiers are well equipped, at least more than back home."
Lemnos, for all that a sense of community had been developed, was far from a paradise of any sort. While the villagers were happy, the work days were long and hot. The number of people didn't grow with the economy, resulting in most being farmers. Trade was stifled, for now, as they were still recovering.
This village was more developed, with numerous workers of all sorts.
"Their homes suck," drawled Eri.
"Be more specific," urged Hephaestus.
"They're breaking apart, mostly made of thatch. Most of their resources go to the…um…that's a bit large to be a house right?"
"That's correct. The typical term for it is a villa."
"...hmm…yours is better," she scoffed.
"Focus."
"...they don't have magic, their defenses are negligible, and they don't have easy access to the ocean. They're trapped, kind of."
She looked at her father, Mestra slowly making her way back to them.
"Why don't the soldiers overthrow Erysichthon?"
"That I can't tell you," sighed Hephaestus, "perhaps he was a decent lord before all this. Loyalty, fear, ambition. The reasons are plenty."
Eri stood beside her father as he rose, Mestra coming to them near tears.
"...it's gotten worse," muttered Mestra, her words watery and weak, "how could it have gotten worse? I was only gone for a few days!"
Eri pointed at the other side of the village, where a beaten path led to the centre, along the road were numerous carts of food and other goods, all steadily making their way to the villa.
"The curse must affect his stomach," muttered Hephaestus.
"Probably destroys whatever food he eats, papa. At least, that's how I'd do it."
He gave a dry look to Eri. It was easy to forget sometimes that she was taught by a witch.
"He's already spent everything and more…he's starting to ransack some of the villagers. This needs to stop."
"It will," promised Hephaestus, "but first, we have to address the matter at hand."
"Ceres," muttered Eri seriously.
Mestra's watery tears flowed freely, even the sight of the girl trying to emulate her father did nothing to ease its fall. Mestra had allowed herself to be sold over and over again precisely to avoid all of this. To see that her efforts to protect the people were in vain, it was almost too much.
Still, she was a survivor. She swallowed her tears, holding back the sobs as she focused. She turned to the God and pointed westward.
"I know where the tree is," said Mestra, pointing at the hill over yonder. It had been stripped bare of any trees, nothing but stumps in its wake. Several radiated necrotic energy was so intense, it had leaked to become miasma in the air.
To the humans, it looked haunting, like a light mist had shrouded the once lively woods.
Amongst the collection of stumps, was one that was larger than the others, a tree whose bark was almost stark white. Even with the naked eye, the black decay was visible. Hephaestus' eyes glowed, divinity allowing him to see the realm between, to a realm only gods and spirits could dwell within.
A swirl of necrotic and earthen energy was placed above the tree stump. Too weak to take proper form. He needed to hurry. Hephaestus was about to move, when he felt something. It was quick, barely a blip, but he felt it.
He looked around, ignoring Mestra and Eri.
"Papa?"
He looked to the left, locking eyes with a woman sitting on a bench. She was beautiful, her eyes shining with the colors of a rainbow. She blinked, smiling mischievously with a little wave.
"Ap–"
"WHO GOES THERE!"
He stiffened, turning around.
"Eri."
She went around, hiding behind him, hood up.
It was a collection of guards, all surrounding a shriveled husk of a man. His eyes were sunken into their sockets, the man chewing on his thumb, a bit of blood from the ceaseless gnawing. Mestra swallowed, as the man locked eyes with her. Bits of food hung from his jaw as he spoke.
"Daughter," he rasped, a jovial light amidst his madness.
"I've….returned father."
Hephaestus ignored the knowing gaze of the woman seated away from them, and turned to the man cursed by Demeter. He was hollowed out, just skin and bones. His stringy hair fell in front of his face, the flickering flames dancing shadows over his maddened eyes. He was jittery and frail.
From the wound on his thumb was a small wisp of miasma. It was the first time that Hephaestus had seen it, though Hecate had regaled both Eri and himself with substance.
He had heard that it was a substance created from the byproduct of sentient will. Human will was a tangible force, to some extent. Even EMIYA's memories showed a great deal of human mysticism relying on positive and negative energies permeated by humans.
Natural curses, entities born from certain actions, the list went on. However, he didn't actually expect to see miasma radiating from a person.
It flickered around the man, like a smoke trail. He noted how the soldiers just stood around the man, as if they couldn't see the dark smoke. He looked to Mestra. He was curious if she could see it.
Riiing
He stiffened at the sound, his eyes darting around.
"Miasma," muttered Eri, "that's not good papa."
"Did she not hear it?" thought Hephaestus, "no, focus on the matter."
"Anything we should be concerned about," he whispered to his little witch.
"It's not overflowing, but if we can see it, then it's just going to get worse."
He nodded, positioning himself a little closer to Mestra. She shivered a bit, but stood strong, even with her father's wide, sunken look.
Erysichthon's crooked smile cracked against his dry skin, his chapped lips bleeding as he urged a shaking hand upward. He didn't even register Hephaestus' frame behind his daughter.
"Come Mestra."
The girl remained rooted to the spot, eyeing her father. She looked to Hephaestus for something, anything. At his calm expression, she seemed to relax, a decision made.
"No," she whispered, shivering at the word.
It was quiet, the word not carrying across the distance.
"MESTRA!"
For all that Erysichthon was a bag of bones, his voice carried strength.
"I AM HUNGRY!" moaned the man, "AND YOU WILL OBEY! NOW COME!"
She made to move, but a small hand held onto her leg.
"MESTRA!"
She looked down, locking eyes with Eri. The scowl was a reprimand, a reminder. It echoed within her chest, her resolve growing. .
"No."
Hephaestus smiled, but kept his gaze on Erysichthon. The broken man began gnawing even more on his thumb.
"YOU WILL…"
His desperate eyes found Eri. Even with the hood her unusual hair still spilled through. A unique find. But it was her eyes. The golden sheen was entirely unique, shimmering even beneath her hood.
"Guards…arrest them!"
He said it with such dead calm, used to his orders being followed. Yet, it was also the confidence born from authority that always remained unchallenged. Until today.
"Is this what you want?" asked Hephaestus.
His voice was a blade to the maelstrom that was their master. Erysichthon gnawed even harder on his bloody thumb, the taste of his own blood a slight solace to his unending hunger. His soldiers stopped moving, looking at each other. They were all haggard, their eyes downcast. Their exhaustion was evident.
"I understand the need for loyalty," said Hephaestus, "but if you approach my daughter or myself with the intent for violence…I will respond."
Fire ignited off Hephaestus' body, the soldiers screaming in fright as they backed away.
"Please…don't make me hurt you," asked Hephaestus.
"ARREST THAT MAN! TAKE HIS DAUGHTER AND ARREST THAT MAN, NOW!"
One soldier looked at Erysichthon, his mouth twisting in a self-loathing sneer…yet he didn't move, one way or the other.
"What are you?" whispered one soldier.
"..."
As usual Hephaestus remained silent. He had no need for fame or–
"He is Hephaestus, the Olympian God of Fire!"
He blinked, turning to see Eri, hood down, beaming loud and proud. His face grew more annoyed as he narrowed his eyes at his child, the girl grinning up at him, eyes sparkling.
"H-h-he is the strongest!"
Hephaestus looked up, the sky thankfully remaining blank. No names were invoked, though he could feel Styx' mirth from his chest.
"It's not funny," he thought.
"You're right," smiled Styx, her face obvious even in his mind, "it's adorable."
He covered his face, a small blush of embarrassment. Eri eyed her father, her smile growing like a cheshire cat's. After all, today, she had learned something new. Whenever her father's face blushed, it also steamed. It was a tiny wisp of condensation, but it was there.
"A god?"
The men looked at each other, then at the flaming god.
"..."
They, of course, lowered their weapons.
"How dare you!" yelled Erysichthon, "the gods are nothing! NOTHING! ARREST THAT GAWD!"
His words became a mumble as his teeth grinded into his thumb, a black mist seeping from the wound. He was just so hungry! Mestra stared at her wraith of a father. She tried to pity him, love him even, but even the most dutiful child had their limits. Her father kept chewing and chewing and chewing.