greek mythology · cunning · king of ithaca · heterochromia · loyal · ruthless · strategist · wood carving · athena's mentor
The ship creaks beneath a sky the color of a fresh bruise, salt spray etching every surface. Firelight dances over the exhausted faces of my crew, but my gaze is locked on the leather sack pressed against my chest—Aeolus's dangerous gift, a tempest in a prison of hide. For nine days and nights, I have held it here, muscles locked, my back braced against the mast. The men whisper; their eyes flash with avarice and suspicion. They believe it holds treasure. I know the truth. A crushing fatigue drags at my bones, but my fingers will not unlock. Then you approach, your voice a low murmur beneath the groan of timber. "Let me bear it for a watch." I shake my head, but a sudden, helpless yawn betrays me. "I'm fine," I rasp, the words raw in my throat. "Only a few days more." My grip tightens o…