In the palace of Eryxis, where the queen resided.
In the cold winter, snowflakes drifted down, landing on the rooftop and the ground. The chilly wind outside and the burning fire inside created a convection, stirring up breezes. Through the window, Metanira could see the guards outside.
They were the elite warriors of the kingdom, Second Order fighters who not only possessed extraordinary strength, immune to heat and cold but could also temporarily enhance themselves with the energy within their bodies. They could march a hundred miles wearing heavy armor or triumph over common beasts with their bare hands.
In this era, they were almost considered reserves for the high echelons of Eryxis, and after centuries of development, this âhigh echelonâ might even be replaced by âaristocrats.â Thus, having them as guards was originally a symbol of status, but the queen knew that they were not there to protect her.
On the contrary, they were there to protect the flourishing kingdom from being destroyed by her. And all this was because of Metaniraâs resentment towards the Goddess of Agriculture.
Everyone âforgotâ the existence of the Little Prince, or rather, many commoners were never aware of the full story, but the queen was not willing to âforgetâ; everyone was grateful for the presence of the Goddess, for she made natural disasters less fearsome, but the queen was equally unwilling to be thankful.
Even when Metanira saw the citizens of Eryxis showing gratitude towards Demeter, she still tried to tell them the truth behind itâall she didnât expect understanding from the people, but at least they should remember that Demophon died because of it, and his name should not be forgotten in silence.
And from that day on, the queen was taken back to the palace.
Clearly, although Demeter herself had already cast aside the memory of that dead child and did not wish to recall that failed creation, others dared not let the âstainâ of the Goddess be spread. King Cleius also gradually had some suspicions about the whole incident.
The Goddess certainly acted capriciously, treating mortals like ants, but if her âantsâ did not interfere with her affairs, then Demeter actually wouldnât do much.
This was the disdain of a deity for mortals, just as humans scorn livestock. Upon realizing this, King Cleiusâs suppressed pain was not erased, but he inevitably let go of some worries. At least he understood that as long as he complied with the will of the Goddess in all things, the same disaster would not befall his eldest son again.
Under these circumstances, he naturally would not allow any accidents to happen, nor would he allow Metaniraâs speech to affect the Deityâs image in the eyes of the people and thereby shake the faith in the Goddess. So even though he understood the queenâs sorrow, he still coldly confined her to her own palace.
He thought time would heal all wounds and that his attention to his eldest son and family would gradually make Metanira let go of her unrealistic notions. After all, the dead cannot be brought back, and the living must go on. However, clearly, Cleius did not know that for some people, the status of the living could never overcome that of the dead.
So on this day, as night fell, the queen sent away all the maids who came to âcare forâ her, or rather, to simply prevent her from committing an act of blasphemy. She covered the windows with a curtain and then took out a box of finely crafted incense.
It was the result of two months of hard work by Metanira, made with special recipes. Four parts frankincense, myrrh, and two parts styrax. One part cedar and ginger, paired with half a part orris, cardamom, cinnamon, juniper, iris flower, and bay laurel, plus seven dried grapes, a few drops of nectar, honey, and lotus fragrance.
Just for these ingredients alone, if she had not been the queen, she would have had no chance of gathering them all.
With the ingredients in hand, she processed them according to different chronological rituals. She ground the herbs, let them sit sealed for two weeks, then mixed them with essential oils, nectar, grapes, and once more let them sit. After a month of waiting, she finally turned the finished product into incense sticks, stored in a small box.
It is said that such incense could communicate with the Deityâat least thatâs what the gods said. So now, Metanira took it out and carefully lit it.
The flame flickered for a moment, and then a faint mist wafted around the room, dissipating into nothingness after extending a certain distance. It seemed to carry the queenâs will to some unknowable place, bearing her certain intent.
Minutes and seconds passed; the night grew increasingly deep. Until midnight, as the incense was about to burn out, the void in front of Metaniraâs expectant gaze finally trembled slightly.
Soon, under the flickering candlelight, two figures that could be considered âsmallâ appeared and solidified gradually. They looked like children of about ten years old, but the queenâs eyes held only caution and longing as she looked at them.
"It seems you have made your preparations," said the boy, taking the lead, followed closely by the girl.
"You must choose one of us."
Looking at the mortal before them, Volos and Eros spoke dispassionately,
"Now⊠make your choice."
"This is your only chance in life to take revenge on a god."
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In the queenâs bedchamber, the conversation continued.
This was not their first meeting; in fact, soon after Metanira had been confined to the palace, she had already encountered these two child-like gods.