I can’t remember how long it has been since I last saw brother, or sister, or simply a human face that didn’t seem to melt when my gaze lands upon them. The world has lost its color in my eyes, and with color so left the joy of living. Without joy each day felt the same – filled with pain – and so time lost its meaning.

I am better now than I was though. Eventually, I was able to look at the terrifying faces that stared back without screaming and running away, but I still could not return home for fear of the vengeful Furies chasing me. Though I did not travel in comfort, I was able to make my way across Greece, to Anatolia, to Mesopotamia, and finally to Egypt. Apparently, being able to really see and talk to the dead was a skill in demand. Usually, it took some convincing, but most people trusted the truth of my word after I gave them precise details about their late beloved without prompt. Typically, my jobs involved asking where savings were buried, or where the person in question died so that their bodies may be buried and they themselves pass onto hades.

But I did not do this job because it helped people, or even for the money. No, I did it because I was in search of a place without people and without ghosts so that I may finally die in peace and quiet. At first I thought of going in the mountains, but in there were crowds of men and women from ages long past; lost souls doomed to wander the land in eternity until the end of the time for they were unburied. In fact, these souls looked more ape then men, perhaps a degeneration that occurred to the soul with time, or perhaps it was the form of our ancestors in a different era.

Next I tried the plains of Anatolia, but here too were wandering souls. Their painful cries tormenting me and keeping away sleep. When I walked past the ruins of Troy, there was a most terrifying scene: hordes of lost infants and children wailing near the broken walls, their ghastly apparitions forever walking the flattened ruins of their homes. It seemed that the Greeks had wiped out the city, killing all men, enslaving all women, and murdering all the infants not worth the effort of carrying. I wanted to walk away from the sound of pain, but could not. Instead, I spent a number of days there, buying their broken little rotting bodies in shallow graves. Until at last the city was at peace, and I walked away with nothing but quiet behind me.

“Can you hear me?”

I turned, and there was the half translucent form of a young man. I could see that he was fair in life, but there was a great sadness on that handsome face.

“Yes,” I say.

“Will you please help me?” he asked.

“Sure,” I shrugged.

I then followed him up a hill, near the beaches of Troy. On the hill, there was a great stone monument. I approached it and read the inscription.

Here be Achilles

The Greatest Hero of the Trojan War

May His Song be Sang Forever

“You are the great hero Achilles?” I asked, puzzled. The young man did not look as if he had a warrior’s build. He shook his head.

“No, but I am his best friend, his brother in all but blood.”

I swallowed, his words bringing thoughts and memories of my own brother to my head. Oh how I missed Py, it seems at times that my life would actually be bearable only if he was near. But I cleared away the thoughts for here was a man who needed my help.

“And you need me to bury your body?”

He shook his head again. “No, my ashes are mixed and buried with Achilles, but my name isn’t written on this gateway to Hades, and so I cannot enter.”

I looked around, and found a sharp piece of rock. “Tell me your name,” I say.

“Patroclus,” he responded.

Letter by letter, I curved his name onto the monument.

P-a-t-r-o-c-l-u-s

I took a step back to admire my handiwork, and then made some more additions. In the end, the inscription read.

Here be Achilles and Patroclus

The Greatest Heroes of the Trojan War

May Their Song be Sang Forever

“You good?” I asked.

“Yes, thank you, kind stranger” he said.

Then, a blackness enveloped him, like a gate of some sort, his silver apparition becoming a shadow. The transition was brief, yet in that brief moment, I witnessed a most beautiful sight:

In the darkness, two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk. Their hands meet, and light spills in a flood like a hundred golden urns pouring out of the Sun.

From Anatolia, I came to the ancient land of Mesopotamia. There I saw the hanging gardens – an island of life in a sea of dead sand. Perhaps more impressive were the great walls of Babylon where chariot may race, and the gates of Ishtar which stand proud for a great city that has seen the Earth for more than three thousand years. Yet as much as the land looked like paradise, I could not stay. For Babylon as seen one too many wars, and the souls of the unburied dead form waves of silver in the desert sands. They howl at night in the winds, drawing the relentless pursuit of the vengeful Furies.

At last, I arrive at Egypt, where it is said that men first walked. Here lay the greatest wonder of the world: the men-made mountains of the pyramids. So large their size, so sturdy their structure, that I cannot help but imagine that they shall be the only thing that remains when millenniums pass, and everything else fades to dust and sand. But here, like everywhere else, were the glowing apparitions of the wandering dead. So I made my way inland, into the endless Sahara.

Here, the sand stretches for as far as the eye can see. I know not how long I have walked, but my canteen was drained long ago. In front of me I see two vast legs of stone stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand, half sunk a shattered visage lies. Its frown, winked lip, and sneer of cold command, tell that its sculptor well those passions read. And on its pedestal, these words appear:

My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings,

Look on my Works, Ye Mighty, and Despair!

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare the lone and level sands stretch far away.

I sit down next to the trunks, under the gaze of the ancient god-king. In front of me, the sea of sand light up gold against the setting sun. I cannot remember the last time seeing color, and with the joy that it brought to my heart, I was finally at peace. For years I have suffered, but now, I can feel that I had repent and atoned for my gravest sin. I closed my eyes, and finally rested easy.

“Hey, Ore, bro, buddy, dude, please, wake up.”

The voice was distant but familiar. I feel light slaps against my face. My lips and mouth were wet. Someone had given me water, it seems.

“Mm mm,” I managed.

“Oh thank the gods! You are alive! You have no fucking idea how happy I am, thought that I’d lost you there bother!”

Brother? My eyes shot open and the morning light temporarily blinded me. But even so I leaned forward, my weak hands grasping. He brought me into a hug. I could smell him, it was the smell of countless wrestling matches, of many peaceful nights; it was the smell of brother Py, it was the smell of home. My eyes finally adjusted, and they confirmed that I already knew. Then my vision blurred again for my eyes were now filled with tears.

“How?” I croaked.

“By the gods,” he said.

I looked at him, then behind him, and saw that he wasn’t joking. There stood a fair young man with a killer smile, a bared upper torso with the most sculpted body I have seen, a scepter on one hand, and winged sandals on his feet.

Hermes?

The god seemed to be able to read my thoughts. “Indeed,” he said, “nice to meet you too, Orestes.” He then walked closer towards us, and brought out a tiny golden bottle filled with a golden liquid. “Nothing like a little bit of ambrosia to cure four years of pain and fatigue.”

I stared in awe as Py took the bottle from him, opened it, and held it to my mouth. I drank, and the liquid tasted sweet like honey, yet not as strong. As soon as I consumed it, I felt strong again, as if the past years of pain had never happened. I stood up, still not knowing what to say.

“We are returning to Greece,” brother said, “you and I have paid for our crimes, and now it is time to stand before the gods and ask for mercy.” I looked at Hermes, and he nodded.

“At Athens kiddo, in front of all twelve of the Olympians.”

“We’d better get going right?” I asked, “it’s a long way home.”

“Not with these,” Hermes said, hovering in the air and showing off his winged sandals.

“Come here,” he said, “let me grab you by your belts.”

Brother and I did as told, and soon we were in the air. Hermes seemed able to hold onto us with ease, but then that’s one of the perks of being a god I guess. As we rose higher and higher, the details of the land started to blur and disappear. But even from this height, the pyramids stand visible and proud. I looked ahead, and saw a most strange sight. No longer was the horizon flat, but while covered with a blue glow, it had a clear curvature.

“The world…is round?” I asked.

“Apparently,” brother said, enunciating each syllable, as if he himself could not believe this fact. He looked at me, and I at him. I felt like a boy again, exploring the world with my best friend, except that this was on a greater scale. I bet he felt the same because his smile turned in a wide grin. I looked up, and Hermes himself was looking joyful.

“Feels like old times, eh?” I asked Py.

“Old times were good times,” he responded, “and I’d make sure that there are more of those ahead, for you.”

I couldn’t help but blush, and he laughed a laugh of pure happiness when he saw my face change color. I smiled too, because it felt good to remember what feeling happy was like.

In but hours, we have reached the outskirts of Athens, and there Hermes left us. “I don’t want to be seen by more mortal eyes than necessary,” he said, “hurry to the Parthenon, for I saw the Furies chasing on the way here.” He then flew away before I could give my thanks. Then, we ran towards the city gates, where we were halted by guards.

“What’s your business here, exile?” He asked, looking at Py.

I looked at Py too, and was surprised to see the exile brand on his right cheek. I had missed it before since only his left cheek was shown to me while we flew.

“We have atoned for our crimes,” brother said with determination, “I can speak to Athena with pure lips, this was said to me by the Oracle of Apollo.”

I heard the sound of wings, and looked back in terror to see the Furies. I turn again to tell brother, and can see that the guard was still objecting to our entrance. He nods at me, and together we push past the guards and run towards the Parthenon.

“Hey! Halt! Catch those young men!” The guard shouts.

Guardsmen start emerging from the streets, but Py and I were too nimble and swift. I chance a glance back, and in horror see that the Furies were closer. I run faster, and was happy that brother kept pace this once.

My lungs felt like they were on fire when we reach the base of the Parthenon Mountain. It was a long climb up but we had little choice. We ran up the stairs. Now, my leg also felt as if they were on fire, and my knees feel as if it will buckle at any time. The sound of wings became deafening as we ran towards the Acropolis. We ascended its steps, and in horror I saw brother trip and fall down. I reach towards him as the shadow of the Furies falls over us.

Bam! A translucence blue barrier appears against the base of the Parthenon as the three Furies slammed against it. I helped brother up, and we looked back at the terrible Goddesses of Vengeance behind us. Then we retreat and walk inside the Parthenon.

Inside, twelve figures seat on high seats behind a veil of darkness. In the middle of the temple was a spot of light, thought where the light came from I could not see. We walk towards the center, and as we arrive, the figures around us light up, literally. I can now see their features, and without a doubt, we were surrounded by the twelve Olympians. Athena was the first to speak.

“Welcome all, to the trial of Orestes and Pylades. Let there be no doubt that these two have committed a grave crime, but rather we are to discuss, and decide, whether they had atoned enough for it. Let the rules of this trial be established: In true Athenian fashion, the accused may speak for themselves, then the victims may speak, and then we shall debate the case, and finally come to a vote. As the Patron Goddess of this city, I shall act as Chief Justice, and in the case of a tie, the decision shall go my way. Is that clear to everyone?”

All agreed, and the trial commenced.