sunslammers

1.112

The Young Griffon

Half a year had come and gone since the day I stood alone in the center of the Scarlet Stadium and accepted every laurel crown the Daylight Games could offer me. Standing tall and proud, as unfulfilled as I...

1.111

The Son of Rome

The day that we boarded the Eos and set sail for distant Thracia, Griffon and I had been of one mind. It was the Gadfly’s intent to keep us busy - to keep us safe from ourselves and the higher powers we had...

1.110 [Myron]

The Little Kyrios

He had done his best.

It was a cold comfort, he knew, but it was what he clung to in the end. In the business of cultivation the results were all that mattered - the tribulations were hardly worth men...

VS 1.109

The Young Griffon

It was said that there were as many paths to heaven as there were stars in the night sky. That platitude was one that countless cast-off sons and daughters of Helen clung to every day, assuring themselves o...

1.108

The Son of Rome

As a melting pot of Greek culture, the city of Olympia celebrated more holidays and religious festivals than even the twice-lauded Coast - it was said that a citizen of the Half-Step City worked about as rare...

1.107

The Young Griffon

Not everyone is made of iron, Griffon. For some, the fire only burns.

“Griffon?” A woman’s welcome voice woke me from my dozing. I opened my eyes and smiled languidly up at the Heroine ...

1.106

The Son of Rome

The storm-crowned mountain was divided nine ways - eight grand estates acting as envoys for the greater mystery cults, each with its own Tyrant ruling in their consolation domain, and the rest of the mountain...

1.105 [Chilon]

Chilon

The Obol Orator

Every institution had its daily routines - the underlying maintenances and mechanisms that an outsider looking in might not necessarily see. Naturally, the more prestigious the i...

1.104

After a brief existential crisis, we are officially back on track. I've unfortunately burnt through the six chapter backlog over the last couple weeks while struggling with an extended writers block, but I'm over the worst of it n...

1.103 [Aleuas Pyrrhos]

The Hurricane Hierophant, Aleuas Pyrrhos

When the kyrios came for Aleuas, he was dressed in nothing but shadow and rags.

That had been over five hundred years ago. Five hundred and fifty-four years to be exact. In fact...

1.102

The Son of Rome

At some point in our journey through the Orphic faith, the raven’s mantle had changed.

The furthest outpost of the Howling Wind Cult estates on Kaukoso Mons was manned by a Sophic cultivator near the ...

1.101

The Young Griffon

Sorea returned before the sun fell, wheeling above the coastline off our starboard side. The virtuous beast shrieked once to make sure he had our attention and then dipped, diving back over the seaside hill...

1.100 [Nikolas Aetos]

The Stark Blade, Nikolas Aetos

Don’t come back. Not until you’ve found something worth sharing - a wife, companions. Your passion.

Niko’s companions had harbored their fair share of doubts and misgivings...

1.99

The Son of Rome

There and back again in just under two weeks. All told, it was one of the faster expeditions I’d been a part of.

It had taken us three days to sail around the southern tip of the Peloponnesian landmas...

1.98

The Young Griffon

“You’re a Thracian,” Sol said, the pieces falling into place in his mind as they were in mine.

“I was born in Thracia,” Scythas corrected him, with the weariness of long practice. “I was r...

1.97

The Young Griffon

Scythas and Sol’s quiet conversation abruptly ended when I joined them at the front of the ship. The Hero glanced at me uncertainly, having no doubt overheard my conversation with Selene - as he overheard...

1.96

The Young Griffon

By sunset we had returned.

The lands of Thracia were vast, and we had traveled them for long days and longer nights. Cultivators of our stature could have made the trip on foot in better time, Heroic ...

1.95 [Sacrament of Salt and Ash]

Son of Rome

Wrathful hands seized me by the neck. They gripped fistfuls of hair that I had allowed to grow far too long, palmed my face, hauled on the white cloth of my chiton and dug their fingers into the gaps between my s...

1.94 [Selene]

A guttural crack split the silence of the sunset domain in the Raging Heaven Cult. The Tyrant Polyzalus, reclining on a feather-down bed with his comatose wife tucked against his side and breathing rhythmically, returned to full alertness in an in...

1.93 [Selene]

Selene

They panicked.

The ivory gates had spat them out into an underground tomb, a beehive tholos with only the central coffin and its ivory shroud to fill the space. Scythas rounded on the gates and wrenched...

1.92ish [Selene]

Selene

It was a pitiful truth that a person’s demons resided within as often as they did without.

Selene had learned this truth early on, internalized it within herself and built the monument of her soul around it. H...

1.91(ish) [An Unkindness]

An Unkindness

“You don’t know,” the raven known as Solus said dully. He knew he shouldn’t have been surprised. Socrates, the Scholar himself, hadn’t had an immediate answer for him. Why should this faceles...

1.90(ish) [An Unkindness]

An Unkindness

Through horn, truth. By ivory, lies.

The motif was a quirk of the Aeolic Greek dialect and nothing more. That was what the raven from Rome had been taught. Aristotle, his mentor and the Father of Rhetoric...

1.89 [An Unkindness]

An Unkindness

Horn is fulfilled. Ivory deceives.

Two ravens and two Heroic souls had entered the Orphic house through gates of ivory - or perhaps it was horn. In the empty stands and shadowed rafters, the ravens had he...

1.88 [???]

???

You are born.

Your infant cries herald the end of endless spring and the first dawn of the summer sun. The sun beats warmly down. Your mother seeks shelter for you in the shade, while the first seeds are planted an...

1.87

The Young Griffon

We descended the last few tiers of benches, brushing past the aghast souls of long dead Orphic initiates.

Orpheus sat on his own ivy covered tomb. There was room on either side of him, but Sol disdain...

1.86

The Son of Rome

I’d never cared for the lyre before meeting Aristotle.

As the Young Patrician of a notable family, I was raised under a certain set of expectations. It was a given that I would be educated. It was all...

1.85

The Young Griffon

First, we mingled.

There was a certain etiquette that even a dead man could be expected to follow. In a theater, it was common sense that the stage belonged to those performing. A spectator could heck...

1.84

The Son of Rome

“If we’re going,” Scythas said, when the story had been told and the last strings plucked, “this is the time. And the hand guided me here, Solus. I promise you, if the reagent the Gadfly needs is anyw...

1.83

The Young Griffon

The Conqueror’s polis was not entirely abandoned.

The husk of a city - what Sol insisted had once been a military colony - was all but rubble now, nearly every structure bearing scars and infirmitie...