Gorgons held the best banquets.

As a wonderful host, Euryale had pillowed couches set for her guests and herself inside her wooden house. Kairos himself shared one with Andromache, his concubine’s back resting against his chest, while Aglaonice received a hill of cushions as her seat. Undead servants served them wine, honeyed figs, and roasted birds beneath the light of ghostly torches. Rook and the other animals enjoyed their own private meal outside the house’s walls.

Though the food was delightful, Andromache had been in a foul mood for the entire evening. As Kairos had guessed, the Scylla hadn’t taken the news of Julia’s pregnancy well. Sometimes her lover noticed her hand brushing against her stomach with an angry scowl on her face. When Kairos tried to comfort her by kissing her on the neck, she ignored him.

The two had planned to have children together, but Circe’s curse had made Andromache sterile. Kairos had hoped that his [Golden Fleece]’s magical fertility might have solved the problem, but he had been disappointed. In the end, the fleece was a [Demigod] Rank artifact, and it couldn’t overcome a true goddess’ power.

For Andromache, learning of her romantic rival’s fortune only reminded her that Circe still ruled her from beyond the grave. Though the Scylla had taken the first steps towards moving on with her life, Kairos could tell old wounds had opened again.

“We will find a cure,” Kairos whispered into his lover’s ear to cheer her up. “Now that the Nemean Lion is within our reach, we can access the dungeon.”

Andromache didn’t answer, her gaze lost in a cup of wine. She hadn’t touched a drink since the feast’s beginning, nor even taken a bite of food. Realizing she didn’t want to talk at all, Kairos gently caressed her arm with his fingers, hoping to comfort her.

In contrast, Aglaonice eagerly partook in the feast, seizing roasted duck legs with her huge paws. “My, the food has improved since my last visit,” the sphinx observed.

“My apprentice brings me gifts from the human cities east,” Euryale replied, playing with a wine cup. “Gluttony is not among my flaws, but I appreciate a little variety in my meals.”

“So you have known each other since before the Anthropomachia?” Kairos asked the gorgon and the sphinx.

“We are old friends now,” Euryale replied, her snake hairs hissing. “Ancient scholars like us keep in touch.”

“Who are you thinking of?” Kairos smiled. “Prometheus?”

“That old [Rogue]?” Aglaonice chuckled. “I heard you visited him. Does he still have a statue of the celestial bodies in his courtyard?”

“He does,” the Travian replied.

“He better. That model was one of my finest works.” The sphinx slouched on her cushions in a way that reminded Kairos of a lazy cat. “If you look up at the night sky, you will find that I named a fifth of all stars and planets.”

“None have yet to equal your feats in the field of astronomy,” Euryale complimented her.

“None shall,” Aglaonice replied arrogantly. “I have forgotten more about celestial movements than human savants will ever learn.”

“And I am sure you will remind everyone of it, if given the opportunity,” Kairos deadpanned.

The sphinx looked at him dangerously. “If it were not a waste of wine, I would throw my cup at your face.”

Kairos wasn’t impressed. “Now, if you truly named a fifth of all stars, why didn’t I hear of your name before?”

“Because only cultured people would know its significance, and you are sorely lacking in that regard,” Aglaonice replied, her tongue as sharp as ever. “It wasn’t always like this though. In fact, I had a thriving cult of astrologers and diviners before the Anthropomachia. I predicted lunar eclipses so accurately that your backward ancestors thought that I would bring down the moon if they did not appease me.”

This caught the Travian’s attention. “A cult?”

“Yes, the Skill-powered kind,” the sphinx said with a cruel smirk. “My, I still remember the days people sacrificed goats before my altars and [Idols]. I miss the attention.”

“I have some temples here and there too,” Euryale said. “Though I have better things to do than answer prayers, and few even ask for my guidance. Still, in your case Kairos, I would suggest developing a cult. It is not for nothing that sealed deities like Lycaon and Typhon can project influence in spite of being imprisoned deep inside Gaia.”

“I’m considering creating a [Hero] cult,” Kairos admitted. “But I don’t know how to proceed. I have access to a few Legendary Skills, but I am not sure which one I should take.”

“You have access to the starting ones, I suppose?” Euryale asked, the Travian confirming with a nod. “Most are useful. [Mystery Cult] will make your [Idols] undetectable by lesser divinations. [Healing Altar] will allow them to provide minor magical healing. [Animated Idol], as per the name, can cause your altars to move on their own to protect the faithful.”

Kairos listened with rapturous attention, trying to see which one could serve him better. [Mystery Cult] only seemed useful for banned, hateful cults like that of Lycaon or Typhon. Healing his followers would help him with his image, but as a [Hero], the Travian doubted that the Skill could cure much. Animated [Idols] sounded situationally useful.

“And the others?” he asked, finding his options underwhelming.

“[Unsettling Presence] inspires the [Terror] ailment in nonbelievers, and I can assure you that this Skill is effective at fostering fear and obedience,” Euryale mused.

“She owns it, obviously,” Aglaonice said with a chuckle. Kairos remembered his first meeting with the gorgon, and how she blasted him with an aura of fear that almost brought him to his knees.

“[Enthralling Image] is the exact opposite,” Euryale continued while grabbing a honeyed fig. “Individuals with weak [Charisma] will find your [Idols] soothing, which may inspire devotion. Both are two sides of the same coin.”

“Would you rather be feared than loved?” Aglaonice asked playfully. “That is the true question.”

Though she kept gazing at the wine, Andromache finally spoke a few words, “Love is fickle,” she said with disdain. “Fear stays with you forever.”

“I would rather have both,” Kairos replied. “So long as I am not hated.”

“Wise,” Euryale said. “Either would be appropriate, but I believe you will find [Empathic Link (Idol)] more useful to your purposes, Kairos. This Skill will allow you to sense everything happening within a short radius of your [Idols], and to connect with your worshipers.”

Now they were talking. “So I could talk to my worshippers across vast distances?” Kairos asked. If so, then that would greatly expand his influence.

“Not quite. You would need to become a [Demigod] before you can talk directly to your followers through [Idols], and as a [Hero], you will only be able to focus on one [Idol] at a time. But you can listen to prayers, and convey your emotions to them.”

Aglaonice smiled. “Why do you think most deities have their worshipers pray at specific hours, handsome?”

Andromache’s head suddenly snapped in the sphinx’s direction, her eyes blazing with anger. “What did you say?” she hissed, revealing her sharp inhuman fangs.

The viciousness in her tone took Kairos aback, but if Aglaonice was intimidated, she didn’t show it. “Why so angry, darling?” she asked. “If a cat is a cat, you call it a cat.”

The witch glared at the sphinx without a word, her silence ten times more oppressive than any threat. “Don’t listen to her,” Kairos whispered softly into Andromache’s ear. “I am yours, and you are mine.”

The Scylla didn’t answer, but he felt her lean her back more tightly to his body while glaring at the wily sphinx.

Something in her expression reminded Kairos of Medea, and it disturbed him.

The sphinx looked at Andromache with an amused look, before focusing back on Kairos. “My riddle has an easy answer. Gods schedule prayers so that they may listen to them directly and process information efficiently.”

“They use temples as intelligence networks?” Kairos guessed, his eyes widening as a great many things suddenly started making sense.

“Exactly,” the sphinx confirmed with a nod. “The larger your cult, the greater your knowledge and your reach.”

“Rituals and worship bring power,” Euryale said as an undead servant gave her a new cup. “Have you never wondered why the Furies allow anyone to make oaths in their name, and strongly punish all oathbreakers? The more they become famous as all-knowing goddesses of oaths, the more likely they are to actually become so. In time, mortal belief might strengthen their [Legend] and elevate them from vengeful [Demigods] to true deities of oaths and contracts.”

Kairos chuckled, before glancing at the still furious Andromache. “Perhaps I should ask builders to raise a statue of you next to my [Idols],” he told his concubine. “We could start our own pantheon.”

This drew a smile on the witch’s face, although barely. “In which form would your sculptors represent me, my other half?” she asked sourly. “This disguise, or my true form?”

“Whichever you prefer,” Kairos replied simply before kissing her on the cheek. “We could be represented riding Rook together. The full package.”

Andromache chuckled, her mood improving. “I will give it thought, my love, but I lack the [Charisma] needed for that Skill.”

As Kairos had guessed, his concubine had chosen to favor her [Magic] and physical abilities rather than her leadership. She had few friends, and her late harpy followers had obeyed her out of fear.

Still, the Travian warlord guessed he could afford having statues of Andromache and Julia built next to his own, if only for propaganda purposes. If they gained power from it, all the better.

“Cults take a myriad of forms, Kairos,” Euryale said with wisdom. “From secret cabals gathering at night, to ancestor worship or public religions, each god organizes their faith differently. They are powerful tools, but I offer a warning. Choose wisely which path your cult will take, because your worshipers’ beliefs will shape your [Legend] as much as your deeds. If everyone believes you are a monster… you might very well become one.”

Kairos nodded silently. Indeed, he would have to consider how to run his faith carefully. There was one Skill he felt comfortable in purchasing though.

You spent 3 SPs to buy the [Empathic Link (Idol)] Legendary Skill. By focusing, you can see and hear everything within a ten-meter radius of your [Idols], and empathically communicate with creatures within that radius. You can only focus on one [Idol] at a time, and your body is reduced to a deep torpor while your mind possesses an idol.

Kairos immediately decided on the construction of idols in each of the island’s settlements. Though limited in his ability to communicate, he could easily establish a system of signals to keep in touch with his allies.

“If you are open to sharing your temples, perhaps you could raise a statue of me next to yours instead?” Aglaonice said brazenly, causing Andromache to sneer at the sphinx. “My current activities didn’t leave me much time to maintain my cults, but now that the term of my service has almost expired…”

Yes, right, as if Kairos would allow a treacherous sphinx a way to spy on his heart of power. Still, he decided to play coy. “If you want to receive, you have to give,” the Travian said.

Aglaonice shifted her position to rest sideways, exposing her belly and chest like a cat wishing for attention.

“If you want something from me, you are welcome to take it. If my lion is gone, I will be in need of a strong, virile protector.” The sphinx looked at the Travian with fluttering doe-eyes. “Will you take care of me, Kairos?”

While Kairos didn’t take the bait and kept an impassable face, Andromache’s gaze turned downright venomous. Her hand moved to hold Kairos’ tightly, as if reaffirming that she owned him. “He will not protect you from me, if you keep treading on dangerous grounds.”

“My, what are you imagining?” Aglaonice replied with mock outrage, delighting in infuriating the Scylla. “Do you take me for a wanton lioness without any virtue? I was going to ask him to ruffle my feathers, nothing more!”

“And at this rate, you will lose more than feathers,” the witch warned. “Learn your place.”

“One learns best through experience, no?” The sphinx teased the Scylla.

“I shall not have a fight beneath my roof,” Euryale warned. Though her voice remained soft and she didn’t raise her tone, the gorgon’s warning was enough to calm down hostilities. “If you wish to settle your differences with force, you shall do so outside after the feast.”

Andromache frowned, but submitted. “Yes, teacher.”

“You should not be so quick to treat me as your enemy, darling,” Aglaonice said. “If I dare say, we might even become friends.”

“Nothing you can offer interests me,” the Scylla replied.

“Is that so?” Aglaonice smirked. “I know you are looking for a divine bribe. Something that will convince the god Orgonos to lift your curse. Maybe I know where to find something like that.”

Andromache bristled, her hand tightening around Kairos’ own. Her nails sank into his flesh to the point that the Travian worried she might draw blood. “We can search the dungeon ourselves, when your pride is out of the way,” she rasped.

“Ah, but that item is something well-hidden that you will hardly find it without my help. And there is the small matter of how I ended up working in the Necromanteion. It is a story that you will find most interesting, Andromache of Scheria.”

While the Scylla frowned in skepticism, Kairos raised an eyebrow. “I thought you couldn’t work against the dungeon denizens?”

“Nothing prevents me from talking about the dungeon itself, except parts I was explicitly forbidden to discuss,” Aglaonice said. “This story starts when the world was dryer. Planetary alignments were my current fancy by then, and I was studying the magical interactions between planets when I was approached by a certain…”

The sphinx let the sentence hang before showing her teeth.

“Witch-queen.”

Andromache’s eyes instantly widened, her interest aroused. “Circe?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Aglaonice replied playfully. “All I can say is that she was very interested in my research, and paid me an obscene sum to narrow down the date of a major planetary alignment, which I obviously did.”

“The same celestial alignment that will signal the end of your service?” Kairos guessed, trying to make sense of this information.

“Indeed,” the sphinx confirmed. “That witch-queen then brokered a deal between the Necromanteion’s master and myself. In exchange for monitoring the heavens in preparation for the alignment, I was offered an irresistible reward. True, my service would last for more than a thousand years, but I was being paid to do something I would have done for free.”

“What kind of reward?” Kairos asked suspiciously, while Andromache frowned, lost in her thoughts.

“A trove of priceless knowledge,” the sphinx said evasively, before blowing him a kiss. “Maybe I could share it with you, if you make it worth my time...”

To Kairos’ surprise, Andromache ignored the sphinxs’ provocation. Circe’s involvement bothered her more than the cat’s attempts at getting a rise out of her. “A phoenix moved near your dungeon months ago,” the witch said. “Did it make its lair inside the Necromanteion?”

Aglaonice chuckled. “Yes, though he descended far deeper than the first level, the only one I was allowed to move through. I suppose it must have made its nest at the bottom or close.”

“And your lion let the bird in unmolested?” Andromache kept probing for information, while Kairos’ frown deepened. Much like his mistress, he was starting to see the bigger picture.

“These were the Master Below’s orders.” Aglaonice shrugged. “My lion will not let you pass, though. He swore to the Underworld’s deities to defend the Necromanteion from intruders, and it took me all my charm to convince him to let me explore the first floor beyond my allocated observatory. Even then the other guardians were not so taken with me.”

“They must have smelled your falseness,” Andromache replied with a snort.

“Mayhaps, but if nobody has anything bad to say about you, then it means you are boring. I would rather be interesting than forgettable.” The sphinx’s gaze turned from playful to sharp. “Besides my neutrality in your battles, I can offer much. A map of the first level, for example. I may have noticed a few treasure chests and magical items too, though as a good friend, I will expect a good share… among other sweet things.”

The friendly talks had ended. Now was the time for business. “Get to the point,” Kairos said.

The sphinx straightened up, but her smirk remained devious. “My offer is simple, manling. If you prevail against my lion, you shall take his place as my protector and make sure no harm comes to me until the end of my service next year. This includes protecting me from yourself, or your men.”

“My, what are you imagining?” Kairos deadpanned.

“You are a [Rogue], and you would not be the first manling playing with oaths,” the sphinx said mirthfully. “I find you somewhat entertaining, and you might prove useful, but I only trust you as far as I can throw you.”

“How strange, I feel the same about you.”

“Perhaps we will grow closer with time,” the sphinx replied playfully, though Andromache’s lack of reaction disappointed her. “But I require an oath now.”

Kairos frowned, for something did not happen. “What is your stake in this?”

“My, how can you be so cunning with such a poor memory? Unless you want me to flatter you? Fine, I believe you might slay my lion where so many failed, and I will not end on the losing side.”

“But if the dungeon’s master learns of your double-dealing, they might grow angry with you,” Kairos pointed out with skepticism. “You might live in the short-term, but make a powerful enemy long-term.”

“Staying neutral does not violate the letter of my oath.” Aglaonice rolled her shoulders. “Maybe it does violate the spirit, but I have only one year left and you are here to stay.”

“It’s not just that.” Kairos figured it out. “Do you know the purpose of this alignment? Why was the phoenix allowed inside the temple?”

She did. It was written all over her smug face. “If I did, I could not tell you.”

“You know,” Kairos decided, “and you don’t want it to happen.”

The sphinx only answered with a smirk. “I told you, manling. A wise woman hedges her bets.”

Andromache glanced at her lover with a firm gaze. “A word, my other half.”

Kairos nodded. “If you will excuse us,” he said as they rose from the couch.

“Come back soon,” Aglaonice warned with a grin. “This offer comes with a limited time.”

The couple ignored her as they walked out of the wood house and closed the door behind. Kairos noticed Rook sleeping on his back next to Euryale’s hydra, both having a heavy stomach from all the food.

“What do you think?” The Travian asked his mistress, now that they were out of the sphinx’s earshot.

“She is a snake, and she will bite your hand if you move too closely,” Andromache replied. “But we should take her up on her offer. Something is brewing, and time is not a luxury we can afford. That whore Circe set a trap before her demise, and we have little less than a year to disarm it. If the sphinx moves out of the way, it will be one less obstacle for us to deal with.”

“So we are in agreement,” Kairos said. “You think this was all part of Circe’s plan?”

“I would wager my life on it, my love.” The Scylla growled, her bestial nature shining through. “She cursed me to keep that egg until it hatched, and the bird made its way to the Necromanteion only a few seasons before the celestial alignment. It cannot be a coincidence.”

The Travian didn’t think so either. “Prometheus warned me of three calamities,” he said. “One was a second sun rising in the skies.”

“And the phoenix holds the power of Helios, the sun titan,” Andromache replied with a nod. “Cosmic magic reaches the apex of its power during celestial alignments. Some things are possible on these days that are impossible at other times.”

“Why would Circe need all these pieces in place?” Kairos asked. The witch-queen was long gone, but this reeked of a backup plan of some kind. “What did she hope to achieve?”

“I cannot say yet,” Andromache admitted. “I will need more time and study. This celestial alignment could fuel a great many rituals, my love. Some with far-reaching consequences.”

“And if Aglaonice is willing to sabotage the dungeon’s master, then this ritual threatens her life in some way.”

“Whatever Circe’s plan is, I want it ruined.” Andromache’s expression turned into a snarl of all-consuming hate. “I want her hopes dashed, and her spirit crushed even in the afterlife. Even if it means allying with that sphinx. No price is too high for my revenge.”

Kairos moved his hand to her head, his fingers brushing against her cheek. “Is that truly what you want?”

“Yes, I want it,” she said, her voice brimming with dark desire. “I want to see Circe’s work destroyed. Now that she is dead, that whore is beyond my reach, but I will have satisfaction for the slavery she put me through.”

“Revenge consumed Medea and Jason, binding them to a thousand years of torment,” Kairos reminded his concubine. “The same fate may await you if you go down that path.”

Andromache sneered. “Would you rather that I let it go?” she asked. “Would you let it go? Even if it was all about me, the Titan of Foresight warned you. Whatever calamity brews within this island, it will wreak havoc on the whole Sunsea.”

“True,” Kairos conceded. “I just want you to understand what revenge at all costs will mean. For us.”

Andromache’s soft hands moved to his chest. “Will you follow me to the Underworld itself, if my vengeance takes me there?”

“You know I will.” Kairos put his hands around her waist and pulled her closer. “We are bound until death separates us. Maybe even beyond that.”

She raised her lips to reveal her sharp fangs, and kissed him ferociously. “Then please, indulge me on this matter,” she asked in between embraces. “I want it. I need it.”

Kairos gently pushed her lips back with his finger. “I will follow you to the end,” he said. “But I won’t let you drag anyone else into this if this goes too far. I have a responsibility to my people too.”

“These people almost threw you out after all the victories you won for them,” the witch pointed out with disdain.

“You hated me too once.” Kairos shook his head. “I want you to receive justice for the wrong done to you, Andromache, but not if it costs you your happiness or that of others. We are building something here. Don’t waste your future to avenge past grievances.”

Andromache listened to his words, but Kairos couldn’t tell if they had any impact. He could only see the sea in her eyes, calm and yet hiding great cruelty underneath. He hoped she would make the right decision.

“I will listen.” Andromache’s fingers brushed against his chest. “And if that sphinx speaks the truth… then she may have the key to lifting my curse. For us to have a future together.”

They kissed on the lips for what seemed like forever, before returning to the wood house. “Alright,” Kairos said, as the couple returned to their couch. “Let us talk.”

The sphinx’s grin turned carnivorous. “Gladly.”

Aglaonice haggled over the alliance like a wine-seller, and the negotiations lasted well into the night. In the end, though neither the sphinx nor Kairos got everything they wanted, they reached a compromise.

Kairos promised to serve as Aglaonice’s protector the same way the Nemean Lion had been, which included safety from adventurers, dungeon denizens, outsiders, and Kairos’ own soldiers. Aglaonice was allowed to move freely inside the dungeon and through Kairos’ territories unmolested. She would get a share of any treasure she helped the Travians find inside the Necromanteion, and keep the prize promised to her by the Master Below. Kairos was forbidden from trying to take it for himself, whatever it was. This was the part that worried the [Hero] the most, but the sphinx wouldn’t budge on it.

In return, Aglaonice promised to stay out of Kairos’ way while he dealt with the Nemean Pride and the dungeon’s denizens, and not to start unnecessary troubles that would require her to be protected in the first place. She would provide the location of Orgonos’ bribe, and any information she could offer without violating her agreement with the Master Below. This included a map of the dungeon’s first level, which she had explored in-depth. She would also stick to the bare minimum of the duties she owed to the Master Below, namely maintaining the observatory and informing him of intruders’ presence… which she already did.

Finally, to her displeasure, Kairos forced her to agree not to harm him or his followers, though she was still allowed to challenge people to non-lethal riddle contests. Clearly, she intended to avenge her loss to the Travian.

The alliance was sealed by an oath to the Furies, with Euryale agreeing to serve as the pact’s enforcer if anyone tried to overstep its bounds or deceive the other. All obligations would end after the planetary alignment.

“Make the oath,” Euryale said.

“I swear before the Furies to follow the letter and the spirit of this agreement,” Kairos said, sensing the shadows lengthening as a divine power took notice of the promise.

“Odd choice of phrasing, manling, but fine,” Aglaonice said. “I swear to respect the letter and spirit of our agreement.”

An oppressive, invisible presence took over the room, winged shadows appearing near the fire. They were gone in an instant, but they would return to punish oathbreakers.

“It is done,” Euryale declared, as the invisible pressure vanished. She rolled up the scroll which detailed the agreement, and handed a copy to Aglaonice and Kairos each.

“Such a light piece of paper, for such a heavy deal,” the sphinx said as her scroll vanished in a puff of smoke. “But I look forward to working closely with you, manling. Keep your tongue sharp, though. I have many riddles for you.”

“Eager to lose again?” Kairos taunted her.

“One day I will tame that unruly mind and tongue of yours,” the sphinx said while licking her lips hungrily. “You can count on it.”

“Be thankful that agreement prevents me from ripping out your tongue,” Andromache said dangerously.

“I suggest you leave the island after the celestial convergence, Aglaonice,” Euryale mused. “My apprentice is nothing if not determined.”

“I would rather settle our issues over games of wits, like civilized people,” Aglaonice said. “Hunts are a tiresome affair.”

“Now, fulfill your end of the bargain,” Andromache said with a snort. “Where is the bribe?”

“I could show you when you enter the dungeon,” the sphinx said. “Are you always so impatient?.”

“Tell me now,” the witch ordered impatiently.

Aglaonice sighed. “Very well. As you may know, Orgonos is a descendant of the old god Poseidon, and he still collects mementos from his ancestor. Now, who was the most famous son of Poseidon?”

“Theseus,” Kairos guessed. “King of Athens and slayer of the first minotaur.”

“An easy answer for an easy question,” Aglaonice replied. “Now, Theseus’ best friend was Pirithous, King of the Lapiths. Together, they hunted great monsters and defeated the first centaurs in a war called the Centauromachia. Both being [Demigods], they swore to each get a daughter of Zeus as their bride.”

“While Pirithous had great strength, he lacked wits and chose a dangerous prize,” Euryale said with an amused grin, as if she had known him personally.

“He chose Queen Persephone,” Andromache said with a frown. “I know this tale. They both entered the Underworld to abduct her, and were bound to a rock by Hades for their folly.”

“Indeed, and though Heracles eventually freed Theseus, who was only an accomplice, Pirithous remained a prisoner of the Underworld for his crime. Now...” Aglaonice chuckled. “Which entrance do you think they used to enter Hades’ realm?”

Kairos’s eyes widened in understanding. “The Necromanteion?”

“The myth was slightly exaggerated, darling. Pirithous and Theseus didn’t go as far as the Necromanteion’s first level before the curse bound them. Pirithous was mercifully put out of his misery with Hades’ death during the Anthropomachia, but his rock remains.”

“That is your bribe for a god?” Andromache scoffed with scorn. “A piece of rock?”

“Ah, but this piece of rock is very special,” Aglaonice said with a know-it-all smirk. “Theseus and Pirithous were bound to it for so long that the stone absorbed some of their divine power. The [Rock of Theseus] is now an artifact capable of producing precious salt and summoning horses, as Poseidon once did for Athens.”

This… this could work. From what Kairos had heard of Orgonos, the god of magic would appreciate such a gift. “Show us,” Andromache ordered. “You said you would make a map, do so.”

One of Euryale’s undead servants provided Aglaonice with a new scroll, and the sphinx’s eyes glowed with a golden light. Inscriptions and lines appeared on the parchment, forming two distinct drawings. Kairos recognized them as maps of two floors of a massive temple, one larger than any mortal palace.

“The first map represents the ground level where I live, and the second drawing is the Necromanteion’s first floor,” Aglaonice pointed at a room on the second sketch. “Here is a salt fountain, at the bottom of which you will find the hidden [Rock of Theseus]. It is quite deep though, but there is no such thing as an easy prize.”

“How many levels are there?” Kairos asked.

“I heard of four floors, with the bottom holding the entrance to the Underworld. I daresay you might find your phoenix there, if you can enter the dungeon at all.” Aglaonice slouched on the ground, her tail wagging. “You know what to do, darling.”

Indeed.

It was time to hunt the Nemean Lion.