Psyche

Prologue

Eros, the son of Aphrodite and the god of passion, loved his job. What, after all, wasn't to love? Unlike his father, Ares, who channeled the passions of men into bloodshed, Eros took the passions of men and women and channeled them into romantic love. Romantic love led to procreation - the perpetuation of life itself. More than that, it led to happiness. Or, it led to happiness when he did his job right.

Eros liked to do his job right.

In order to better do his job right, he often visited the mortal realm. He enjoyed walking amongst mortals, disguised as one of them. He had mastered the art of transforming his god-like, winged appearance into that of a handsome mortal, always of the coloring and dress of whatever mortal nation he visited.

During these visits to the mortal realm, he went by a mortal name and endeavored to mix amongst the locals and best determine whom he should help fall in love.

On this day, he walked on foot toward the city of Thebes and in the dress of a gentleman merchant, with sacks of goods over his shoulder. The road, which wound on the edge of a cliffside over the Ionian Sea, offered views of the mountains to the north. A pleasant breeze blew from the direction of the sea, and the air was clean and crisp. The road to Thebes, which Eros normally found to be well-traveled, became less and less so as he approached the border to Thebes's territory.

The lack of traffic did not surprise Eros. He was headed to Thebes because he had heard the city was in the thrall of a Sphinx. The particular Sphinx, a malicious practical joker if there ever was one, would stop merchants and travelers from entering the city and ask them an impossible-to-answer riddle. When the unfortunate mortal inevitably failed to answer the riddle, the Sphinx would then devour them.

Naturally, her presence had put a damper on Thebes's economy, given that merchants were quite discouraged from visiting. The city of Thebes had been thrown into economic depression, with its citizens, normally accustomed to a comfortable life, living more like Spartans at best, starving at worst.

Eros thought that perhaps he could be of some kind of help, even if it was just to lift the spirits of the people.

As he whistled pleasantly to himself, he heard footsteps behind him. Eros had keen ears, and he recognized that the steps were frantic, and they were made by the finest of sandals, wore by a male.

He turned around to see a young man dressed in the Corinthian style, no older than twenty years, running toward him. Evidently, the young man had had a difficult day, since his fine - likely royal - clothing was covered in crimson bloodstains. Blood also smeared his hands and face.

The young man caught up with Eros.

"Good sir," said Eros, "May I help you? You look distressed."

Despite the gross understatement, the young man's face transformed from panicked to relieved at the sound of a kind, as opposed to accusatory, question.

"I've just killed a traveler," he said. "It was self-defense. A man, finely dressed and in a golden chariot, was arrogant and claimed the right of way at the crossroads - the place where three roads meet at Davila. I told him, if he asked politely, I would gladly give him the right-of-way, as princes such as myself are generous. He grew angry at the perceived insult - called me a boy and a fraud, told me that I wore the purple of a royal without the right."

Eros shook his head. Sometimes mortals could be so foolish. Of course, he had to admit to himself that sometimes immortals could be equally foolish. Meanwhile, the young mortal continued his tale.

"The traveler drew his sword and leaped from his chariot, shouting insults as well as a challenge to my honor. I am a Prince of Corinth, lately having left home to seek a greater destiny. I am no fraud and well trained in combat. I attempted to end the fight without harm, but in the end, I killed the old man."