The Arrows Of Love || VMIN

Confrontation

Author's Note: Absolutely do not try to read this without visiting the other book's guide chapter (Part. 1) for this, or you won't understand a thing.

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Far from the shimmering shores of Aegean, where topaz-blue waves break into soft foam, well inside the region of Thessaly, situated were the pleasant valleys of endless fields of tulips, varying in types and colours; and the limits of mortal obtainability.

The foot of the steep mountain they surrounded was smudged in hazy mist; falling like crystals of snow in the core of their colourful petals, drop by drop.

This mist was not an easy one to be overcome. Through heat and rain, it never receded, and if an overly adventurous individual ever tried to cut through, they were to be choked to death by it, and dragged to the Underworld instead.

But don't worry, my dear readers! A storyteller isn't a mortal, and even the gods don't have a problem with their presence in their divine abodes. So be fearless and come with me, and let's watch what these other immortals are doing from up close.

It might feel like years were passing by while climbing these snowy crags, fingertips would be turning purple and as cold as ice, limbs nearly frozen, immobile- and through those tired, frosted eyelids, the first peaks of the golden gates would be seen.

Regaining vigour, now the journey would feel fruitful, and with some more struggles, the golden gates would stand before you, in their full glory.

On pillars of gold, elegant details were crafted in wide panels, on which the light of Helios shone, dispersing on the dark clouds around, the same clouds which once deceived Ixion; that insane mortal who dared to desire after the chaste Kydra.

Over this grand entrance of the golden fortress, presided the Horai, the three victorious daughters of Themis. The mistresses of the seasons- Eunomia, Eirene and Dike, without whose permission none could proceed further.

And if permitted, the scenic panorama welcoming them would burn their memory of any greatness they might have ever witnessed.

Golden walls, golden pavements and golden roofs were erected on every place, avenues strewn with thrown out gems and jewelleries from the balconies of those buildings, like the star formation of a galaxy, the smoke of sacrifices coiling and swirling over the soaring palaces of their invoked deity.

The cold of before had no effect in this realm, where spring was permanent, pleasing breezes directed by their lord always at the service of the residents, fanning them with the fragrance of ambrosia dipped flowers.

At the gem studded terraces of the uncountable mansions, nymphs of various complexions and gorgeous faces enjoyed themselves with crystal cups full of wine, prattling in meaningless laughter when drunk.

Founts and streams would be found on these golden streets on each turn, from which water like pearl strings fell on bed of pearls, and made it difficult to comprehend where one started and one ended; lakes with steps of milky white quartzes, in whose bright waters little iridescent fishes played, hiding under blooming lotuses and lilies if threatened.

In the tactfully made gardens, syrupy nectar from the cores of flowers oozed and dripped on the ground, creating a puddle; drenching the feet of those bumblebees who come and sit on them, the smooth black of their fuzzy bodies turning orange being coated in pollen. Fruits like the jewels born in the ocean were born on trees, shrubs and vines; some golden and sweet, red and tart, or some green and sour.