HYACINTHUS

Chapter Eighteen

FROM A SINGLE CLOUD in the sky pierced a beam akin to sunlight. Descending gracefully, seeming to float in the air, ten figures draped in blinding white robes were approaching, nine women and one man.

And each and every one of them had fury inscribed in their faces.

A few feet away from me, the singer Thamyris was rolling around in the grass, screaming from unbearable pain. He was holding the palms of his hands on his face.

"My eyes! MY EYES!"

I, and the ten from the sky, watched silently as he lowered his hands, and I gulped back the disgust that rose from my stomach.

In his palms, he was clutching two small balls, wet and bloody.

And on his face, instead of eyes, he had two bleeding holes.

One of the women, the first to hit the ground with sandaled feet, spoke to him, with a low, calm voice:

"That is the price you have to pay, human, from boasting that you are better than a god."

Thamyris' head turned the other direction; now blind, he didn't know where the voice was coming from.

Another woman from the sky, with identical facial features as the first, just with black hair opposed to her red, scrunched her nose and raised her voice:

"I still think he deserves to be sent to Tartarus."

A third, with a blonde mane reaching her tailbone, shook her head.

"Urania, that might be too harsh. Isn't this punishment brutal enough?"

"Did you even listen to the obscene things he said about us? Polyhymnia, it seems your heart has grown soft!"

"It is because I can't stand the sight of blood!"

The only man of the group spoke, his voice so carrying and sonorous that I immediately recognized a god in him.

"My verdict is death."

From the leather pouch hanging on his hip, he pulled out an arrow, holding his bow with the other hand. His muscles flexed as he pulled back, concentrating. Within a few moments, Thamyris' heart had been pierced cleanly, rendering him dead.

Then, his eyes fell on me. I knew who I was facing.

His gaze, golden eyes of a bird of prey, were set in a divinely framed face. His jaw, square and defined, was stern and proud; he was the embodiment of the Sun, commanding respect and power.

I realized I had met him before, when I was much younger, too young to realize his true nature. He ressembled the last archery instructor at my father's palace to the detail!

But, what was Apollo doing there? Now that I thought about it, why would a god from Olympus lose time by hanging around humans?

His eagle eyes looked at my lying body inexpressively; he noticed my untied peplos, and likely concluded which crime had been commited on me.

"Urania is right", he said in a cold voice, turning to the Muses. "The nine of you, take the corpse of this monster and throw it into Tartarus."

Polyhimnia, the blonde Muse, whimpered, but obeyed, along with the eight others.

The red-haired Muse, who I presumed was Clio, glanced at me, grimacing, then turned to Apollo. "Should we expect you this evening in Olympus?"

Apollo turned his back to her, and walked to me.

"No."

Clio sighed, and with the eight others, Urania holding the corpse as if it were the most disgusting thing on the face of Earth, dissapeared into the sky.