In the thickets, the stars were dim, and the long night lay hushed.
Samael stood in the woods a few hundred meters from the entrance of his cave. He paced back and forth, stopping now and then to glance toward the faintly glowing doorway, its aura masked by Magecraft.
A restless unease brewed in his chest, gnawing at his mind.
"Smack!"
Overcome by irritation, the ancient serpent raised a hand and struck his own forehead, as if trying to jolt himself awake.
But in the next instant, a figure stepped up behind him. Arms wrapped around his head, pulling him into a warm embrace. Soft hands patted his back in comfort, while rose-colored lips whispered broken, lullaby-like murmurs, smoothing the turmoil in his heart.
Samael lifted his head slightly and met Tina's pure, worried eyes. The sight only deepened his guilt.
To be honest, in his previous life he had been alone, with no experience raising children.
Athena was supposed to be nothing more than a piece on the board, a banner of defiance against Olympus, a pawn shaped by destiny itself—an indispensable key to help Tina seize hold of Greece and consolidate divinity.
That was how it should have been.
And yet, as time passed, Samael's tangled emotions poured into the girl without restraint. The more time he spent with her, the harder it became to steel his heart and cut her loose. Exploiting her without hesitation grew all but impossible.
In fact, during the deadly battle that day, he had gone so far as to provoke Zeus ahead of time—directly or indirectly dragging the Mother of Serpents, Themis, Tina, and himself into danger.
Athena's life and her secret had been preserved, yes—but the road ahead would only be harder to walk.
Even so, his care for the girl had long since surpassed the concern of a strategist for a mere pawn.
Without realizing it, he had already begun straying from his original purpose of aiding the Mother Goddess's return.
"I'm sorry… this is my fault..."
Samael pressed his head into that all-accepting embrace, unable to face Tina's unchanging purity and quiet reassurance. His voice was low with guilt.
"Good boy… good boy…"
"It's okay… it's okay…"
Tina's cross-star eyes blinked gently as her hand stroked his hair. She didn't fully understand, bewildered as she was, but still tried her best to offer clumsy comfort.
What a failure. Even trying to play the villain, he couldn't do it right.
Samael's lips curved into a bitter smile, shame prickling his chest.
"I've let you down, Tina..."
But the Goddess of Beginning, sensing the despair sinking into the soul in her arms, lifted his lowered face in both hands. She met his gaze with steady conviction.
"Samael… like!"
That same unwavering support, that same certainty, sent warmth flooding through the ancient serpent's heart. His gloom and unease dissolved, and he laughed freely as he stroked the back of Tina's head.
"I just realized it's been ages since I last combed your hair. Come on, sit nicely, I'll do it for you."
Tina's eyes lit up, and she nodded eagerly. At Samael's beckoning, she obediently sat on a stone by the water, letting the shadow behind her wash her dark tresses. By the water's edge, he patiently combed and untangled every strand.
She didn't understand what weighed on the one behind her, what he brooded over, or why he felt guilty.
For her, waking each morning and finding Samael at her side was already enough.
Yes, companionship alone was enough.
Best of all, she wished Athena wouldn't leave even after growing up.
Though hugs were rare now, she still loved to lean in and whisper little secrets.
Most of them were complaints about Samael—things not to be spoken aloud, things that had to stay hidden.
She also hoped she could see Ana, Echidna, and the others every day…
Themis too, and Daphne as well!
Sitting before the pool, Tina began counting on her fingers, only to realize ten weren't enough.
Too many. Was that greedy?
Even so, she wished no one would leave her again. Wished she wouldn't be left all alone…
Unnoticed, her cross-star eyes reflected in the water glimpsed a figure wrapped in pure white solitude, slowly approaching.
Her senses dulled, as though her mind were being drowned in deathly stillness. Fear welled up unbidden, making her shoulders tremble.
But then warm hands clasped her cold fingers, and that touch pulled her from the dead, silent whirlpool like an anchor to life.
"All done. Beautiful as always. We've still got some time—want me to clean your ears, your favorite?"
Samael looked over his handiwork with satisfaction, leaning close, his voice gentle by her cheek.
"Mhm!"
The Goddess of Beginning nodded firmly, lying down obediently across the ancient serpent's lap.
Yet for some reason, she turned her face away from the pool, eyes fixed unwaveringly on Samael. Her hands gripped his robe so tightly her knuckles turned pale.
...
Elsewhere, within the cavern, two goddesses sat across the chessboard, their figures crossing in the dim light.
Themis glanced deeply at the small beast baring its fangs like a cub guarding its den. Amused, she reached out and patted Athena's proud, combative head.
"I raised your mother. She, in turn, entrusted you to me. Of course, it's my responsibility to protect you."
"Athena, this risk I take—I do it by my own choice."
"And just as you cannot change his care for Medusa, some bonds of trust aren't so easily shaken by a few words of provocation."
The Goddess of Wisdom pouted, her mood darkened by the memories stirred. She brushed aside the hand on her head, sat back down, and pushed her knight forward with a huff.
"Playing with you is boring. I'm done!"
Themis instinctively lowered her gaze—and froze. Her king was trapped. Chariots with iron hooves bore down from the front, while death's abyss loomed behind.
She retraced the moves in her mind, sighing at the flawless web Athena had woven. Looking up, her eyes softened with admiration.
"Remarkable. I concede. Your skill far surpasses mine now."
But then something occurred to her, leaving her puzzled.
"If I can't even beat you, why does Samael still say he's teaching you to play?"
Thanks to her talent, the Goddess of Justice had long surpassed her own teacher, Samael, in chess.
Athena stretched lazily, chest arching, but the moment her gaze caught the curve across the board, she wilted, propping her chin gloomily. Her reply came offhand.
"Him? I could beat him at eight. By nine, I had to spot him three to five moves. By twelve, I could play blindfolded without breaking a sweat..."
"Then why—"
"Do you think I'm stupid? If I crush him too hard, he won't want to play anymore."
The Goddess of Wisdom smirked slyly, eyes narrowed like a fox with a stolen hen. She spread her arms and wandered off toward the still night, ready to greet her foster parents.
Themis stared at the tangled chessboard, momentarily dazed.
It was true—ever since her own overwhelming skill had shown itself, she and Samael had rarely played.
With a bitter smile, she let her piece fall to the board and whispered softly.
"Metis... Athena… she's sharper than you, than me, sharper even than Zeus..."
"I fear, save for that man, no one else will be able to keep her in check."
...
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