Content[edit | edit source]
A clay tablet revealing one of many tragedies leading to a boys’ demise.
What awaits the sacrificed beyond his mortal coil? One can only wonder. This clay tablet is adorned with flower motifs, which cracked and warped during the cooking process.
The tablet reads:
One day the boy found a flower growing through a crack on the stone floor,
the first he had seen in all those winters since his banishment.
What pain was in his eyes, knowing it should not be plucked
and having to journey the hallways merely to glance upon it!
Endless was his sorrow when harsh rain rotted its roots
but he found solace in offering it to Hestia as sacrifice.
It had been three winters since my arrival at this island,
the hybrid had grown into a fine, capable warrior under my tutelage.
It would not be long before he would be able to raise the labrys
and put an end to my father’s suffering.
During one of the chilly nights when we huddled against the basin
when the wood let out a foul, darkened smoke that brought tears to one’s eyes
he asked me if a flower felt joy upon being plucked and offered to the gods.
At times this grown creature spoke with the innocence of a child,
that soft voice which we all learned to abandon perhaps too early.
I spoke then with the pain and pity of a father consoling his son upon a dog’s death.
“There is no greater honor than to be offered to the twelve, child
For whatever weakness it or any being ever showed is redeemed
when one’s life is thus plucked and made sacred.
Soon new shall put an end to my father’s pain, then you must see it
as a liberation from heavy shackles, and see yourself as his cherished redeemer.”
That was the last night in which the hybrid played his lyre; a string snapped then.
Asterion Thread-Cutter, cradled the instrument against his chest
and hummed instead until drowsiness fell upon our eyes.
Before we retreated to our straw mats, however, he said
“Is there warmth in your heart to believe that I, too,
shall one day be blessed with a redeemer? One crossing the sea to liberate me
from these oh so familiar shackles that bear the signs of Gods?
Will one day I be redeemed from my birth, shall I fly free
like Ikaros and Daedalus did, away from this wretched land?”
I felt then the knife hidden among his words, about to slit my own throat as well.
What could I say? I gathered my embers, all I could muster, and said:
“You shall be redeemed no doubt, and then you will see the flowers
growing outside these crimson walls of Daedalus.
No see is too great, no curse too foul, to stop one from achieving salvation,
above all else one who would have the mercy to free an ailing, accursed man.”
And those words, today I regret them most,
for what wretched nightmare did I plant in him?