When Endymion opens his eyes again he finds himself back in the field, wearing his bloodied clothes and armor. His sword lies beside his right hand, where it fell when he himself fell to the ground mortally wounded. Night was receding, giving way to dawn.
Was it all just a dream? He thought to himself, confused.
But it wasn't. The same girl from the night before comes to his side once again, holding the same silver cup. He notices a silver crescent mark on her left wrist.
- Please drink this.
- What is it? This time he asks apprehensively, although he does not feel like he has the option to deny anymore.
- It is the blood of the Goddess. It is necessary to complete your transformation.
Endymion swallows hard listening to her words but, finally takes the cup from her hands and drinks the content obediently.
- You are now one of Hecate 's followers. The Goddess has granted you eternal life and youth. She will summon you whenever your presence is required.
She takes the cup from his hands and stands up.
- One last thing. Although you can heal and transform mortals with your blood, you cannot do so without permission from the Goddess.
She bowed her head lightly before leaving him alone in the field where he thought he would die.
Endymion looks at the girl walking away flabbergasted and confused. Many thoughts flood his mind. He cannot yet grasp the gravity and complexity of what happened to him.
But, for now, all around him he sees the maimed bodies of his comrades and enemies, all of them dead in their prime while he himself survived. He is the lucky one, chosen by Hecate and the Fates.
Or so it seemed.
YOU ARE READING
Heathen
FantasíaIn ancient times they were mere mortals who were given the gift of immortality by the Goddess of the Moon, Night and Magic. Like Endymion, a young man who died in Hekate's arms and came back to life, seemingly forever. Reader discretion is advised.
