ORION’S EYES snapped open as he bounced out of his dream with a scream. A few moments passed to clear his foggy mind. He could still see remnants of Hyperion in front of him dissolving like a ghost.

  That dream again… he thought as he shook his head in an attempt to make it go away faster.

  He sat up, rubbing his eyes. His heart was racing like a horse, so he took slow, deep breaths to calm himself. The scent of wild thyme filled his nose as he felt the warm rays of the sun on his skin.

  he sighed.

  With no cloud in sight, the sky above was clear and blue. No war, no Gods, no Titans. Just the gentle rustling of leaves, and the distant sound of waves crashing against the cliffs.

  “Bark! Bark!”

  A sandy coloured, Cretan hound appeared, . He jumped on him, wagging his tail furiously.

  “I’m up! I’m up! No need to complain.” Orion chuckled, scratching behind Argos’ ears.

  He got up and stretched, taking in the familiar view before him. Rocky ground and rocky hills, filled with herbs and wild grass. Some olive trees here and there, a flock of sheep grazing lazily, and beyond them, the shiny expanse of the sea and the horizon.

  He took a deep breath, the ones that make you dizzy, and reached towards the horizon as if to grab it.

  “An adventure, far beyond the horizon.” His eyes were shining full of hope.

  “Would you like that?” He scratched Argos’s chin who, in return, waved his tail enthusiastically in agreement. What are we waiting for? Let’s go!

  “You and I, adventuring through the whole Hellenic world.” He said with a swiping wave of this hand.

  But then he turned and looked at Melite, a quiet coastal city-state of Crete, where people minded their own business but were nosy enough to know everything about everyone else.

  Yet, the fates had plans of their own and Orion was not prepared for them.

  > <

  A sharp whistle cut through the air.

  Orion turned just in time to see three figures moving towards the flock. Two of them were huge and rough, with cloths covering their faces, their eyes fixed onto the sheep like predators. A lean, sun-burned boy led them, his hair tied back with a leather cord. He wore a short chiton

  and a purple chlamys

  faded by the sun, a failed attempt to mimic Cretan royalty.

  “Eunomos?” Orion muttered.

  The leader of the thieves, no more than 16 years old with a cocky smirk, turned when he heard his name.

  “Well, well, well! If it isn’t my old friend Orion; the strongest man in the whole of Crete!”

  Argos growled, baring his teeth, but one of the other thieves kicked dirt at him. “Get lost mutt.” Argos yelped and bolted tail between his legs. The two thieves laughed but Eunomos looked at them angrily for a split second and shook his head.

  Orion’s fists tightened, ready to fight. “Leave the sheep alone,” he said, voice low. “You don’t want trouble.”

  Eunomos turned his attention to Orion and snorted. “Trouble? From you?”

  “Last time we met, you fought back and I still gave you that black eye.”

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  A dull ache pulsed above Orion’s cheekbone; a reminder of their last encounter. But this time, he wasn’t backing down.

  “I’m giving you one last chance,”

  Orion warned lifting his fists.

  Eunomos’ grin vanished. “And I’m taking these sheep.”

  The first punch came fast, but Orion managed to dodge it, countering with a sharp jab to Eunomos’ ribs. The thief grunted and stepped back, only to retaliate with a brutal swing that grazed Orion’s cheek. The other two moved in, one grabbed him from behind while the other aimed a punch on his face.

  “Ha, ha, ha! You can’t move now!” laughed one of the thieves.

  Orion managed to free himself by kicking the thief’s shin. The thief let go of him and started hopping on one leg while holding the other in pain.

  “Curse you!” he cried and fell on the ground.

  Orion held on his own, landing a solid hit on the other thief’s jaw, but he refused to go all out. These weren’t enemies; they were desperate men.

  I can’t just break their bones…

  A well-placed elbow to his back sent him sprawling into the dirt. Eunomos loomed over him, smiling. “Should’ve run away, Orion.”

  Damn, I might need to go all in. But his thought was interrupted by the sound of hoof beats.

  The thieves froze as three riders crested the hill. At the lead was a broad-shouldered man, with a weathered face, a long and rich beard, an upward curling moustache, and a sword at his hip. Orion’s uncle Aristodemus. Beside him, two city guards, their spears glinting in the sunlight. And at their heels? Argos barking triumphantly,

  Eunomos stood with his chin raised, a faint smile forming on his lips as he looked at Aristodemus. His eyes shined and waved at him.

  “Run!” one of the thieves yelped. They didn’t need telling twice. The three bolted, scrambling down the hill like startled rabbits. Eunomos gave Orion one last glance and winked at him with a wide, sincere smile, before vanishing behind the rocks with a sheep on his shoulders.

  Orion let out a breath, sighing as he pushed himself up. Aristodemus dismounted, eyeing him with a mix of amusement and concern. “Was that…?”

  “Yes, in the flesh. …and he waved at you.”

  “Hmm, yes, I noticed. That boy is going to be the death of me...”

  Orion remained silent, knowing he didn’t mean it.

  Aristodemus turned his attention to Orion. “You look terrible.”

  “Feel like it too,” Orion admitted, wiping blood from his lip.

  His uncle sighed. “One of these days, you’ll have to stop holding back.”

  “They’re not worth crippling,” Orion muttered. “Remember what happened six years ago?”

  “Hmmm, I remember.” he said lively. “But do you think letting them steal is better?”

  The question hung in the air, as Orion frowned, feeling a wave of conflict wash over him. Maybe, he thought to himself.

  With a shake of his head, Aristodemus gestured to the guards. “Round up the flock. We’re heading back.”

  He patted Orion on the shoulder and said, “You are a good lad. I wouldn’t want you to cripple them either.”

  > <

  The journey to the city was quiet, with the only sounds being the gentle lapping of the waves against the shoreline and the occasional bleat of the sheep. Orion walked beside his uncle, thinking about Eunomos and his thieving friends, feeling the weight of the earlier conversation still lingering in his mind.

  As the sun dipped low, it painted the sea in hues of orange and gold, creating a mesmerizing scene that momentarily distracted him from his worries. The beauty of the moment washed over him, but the conflict within remained.

  Argos dashed up and down the coastal road, his tail wagging in excitement as he helped the guards herd the sheep. The dog's boundless energy was contagious, and it made Orion smile despite his heavy thoughts.

  Orion glanced at his uncle, who seemed lost in thought, perhaps reflecting on Eunomos’ lawless life or perhaps the news of his dream.

  “That dream again?” Aristodemus asked.

  Orion stiffened. “...Yes.”

  “The same one? With the war?”

  “Mm.”

  A pause settled between them. Orion felt the familiar unease twist in his stomach. It had been some time since he had those dreams, but now they were back.

  Aristodemus gave him a long look and opened his mouth as to say something but said nothing more.

  ><

  By the time they reached Melite, the marketplace was winding down. Merchants packed up their stalls, fishermen hauled in their nets, and the scent of roasted meat filled the air.

  After delivering the sheep to the livestock pens, they made their way home; a modest house near the edge of the city, overlooking the sea. As they stepped inside, Aristodemus tossed Orion a cloth soaked in cold water.

  “For the eye.” Orion pressed it to his face, hissing at the sting.

  “Tomorrow,” his uncle said, “we’re training. No holding back.”

  Orion blinked, his surprise evident. ”Eh?”

  “If you’re going to fight, you’d better finish them.” Aristodemus stated his voice steady.

  A smirk tugged at Orion’s lips, as the weight of the moment shifted from surprise to a tingle of excitement.

  “Fair enough.” He replied with a determined glint in his eyes.

  NEXT CHAPTER:

  The Weight of Strength

  a simple and versatile garment made from a single piece of cloth, worn by both men and women

  a type of Greek cloak , usually made out of wool and is worn pinned on one shoulder, usually leaving the right arm free