Apollymi's eyes flared red at what they were doing. It was an imprisonment spell.
For her.
And because they united their powers, they would be able to bring her to heel.
Even so, she laughed. But most of all, she took note of every god who joined in to help her husband bind her. "You will all regret what you've done here this day. When Apostolos returns, you will all pay dearly."
Xedrix put himself between her and the others. Apollymi placed one hand on his shoulder to keep him from attacking. "They're not going to hurt us, Xedrix. They can't."
"No," Archon said bitterly, "but you will remain locked in Kalosis until either you reveal Apostolos's location or he dies. Only then will you be returned to Katoteros."
Apollymi laughed. "My son, at his maturity, will have the power to come to me. When he releases me, the world as you know it will die. And I will take you all down. All of you."
Archon shook his head. "We will find him. We will kill him."
"You will fail and I'll dance on your grave."
The Diary of Ryssa, Princess of Didymos
June 23, 9548 BC
My mother, Queen Aara, was lying on her gilded bed, her body covered in sweat, her face ashen as an attendant brushed her damp, blond hair from her pale blue eyes. Even through the pain, I'd never known my mother to appear more joy-filled than she did that day and I wondered if she'd been this happy at my own birth.
The room was crowded with court officials and my father, the king, stood to the side of the bed with his Head of State. The long, glass windows were open, letting the fresh sea air offer relief to the heat of the summer day.
"It is another beautiful boy," the midwife happily proclaimed, wrapping the newborn infant in a blanket.
"By sweet Artemis's hand, Aara, you've done me proud!" my father said as a loud jubilant shout ran through the room's occupants. "Twin boys to rule over our twin isles!"
At only seven years of age, I jumped up and down in glee. At long last, and after my mother's numerous miscarriages and stillbirths, I had not one brother, but two.
Laughing, my mother cuddled the second-born infant to her pale breast while an additional midwife cleaned the firstborn.
I snuck through the crowd to watch the firstborn baby with the midwife. Tiny and beautiful, he squirmed and struggled to breathe through his newborn lungs. He had finally taken a deep, clear breath when I heard the cry of alarm from the woman who held him.
"Zeus have mercy, the eldest is malformed, majesties!"
My mother looked up, her brow creased by worry. "How so?"
The midwife carried him over to her.
I was terrified that something was wrong. The babe looked fine to me.
I waited while the baby reached for the brother who had shared the womb with him for these months past. It was as if he sought comfort from his twin.
Instead, my mother pulled his brother away, out of his sight and reach. "It cannot be," my mother sobbed. "He is blind."
"Not blind, majesty," the eldest wisewoman said as she stepped forward, through the crowd. Her white robes were heavily embroidered with gold threads and she wore an ornate gold crown over her faded gray hair. "He was sent to you by the gods."
My father, the king, narrowed his eyes angrily at my mother. "You were unfaithful?" he accused her.
"Nay, never."
"Then how is it he came from your loins? All of us here witnessed it."
The room as a whole looked to the wisewoman who stared blankly at the tiny, helpless baby who cried out for someone to hold him and offer him solace. Warmth.
But no one did.