Eden: The Garden of Gods

The celebration is over. Most of Zenobios' men have returned to their families. The Holy War is far from over. They must rest and prepare for what lies ahead. Only a handful of his trusted companions remain, with his venerable general, Erastos, among them. Erastos has shed his armor, seeking some comfort in the quiet. Zenobios, too, now wears a simple robe, free of any lavish design. For once, he wishes only to feel at ease.

A calm breeze stirs as Zenobios stands at a distance, watching Erastos deep in conversation with several warriors. His gaze drifts slowly toward the horizon. To his right, the dusky sky and a pale crescent moon hang over the sunlit clouds, a sight that somehow calms his restless heart. He closes his eyes for a moment. Though fatigue should never touch one chosen by the heavens, even an exalted being like him cannot deny its weight.

Just then, a large carriage pulled by two colossal horses arrives, its wheels softly grinding against the stone. Zenobios steps aside as the carriage approaches the cabin. It is his personal transport, used for travel across Eden. It is time to go home, to Anaktoro tou Elysion1.

The cabin doors open. Dorothea steps out first, followed by his beloved, Athanasia.

Athanasia is a vision. Proxy wars were once fought over the right to claim her hand in marriage. But Zenobios proved formidable, even against Eden's most renowned gods. Many of his rivals carried ancient heirlooms or commanded the Heavenly Troops themselves. Yet today, she has given him something far beyond any title or victory, a legacy. No doubt, the gods of Eden rage in silence. But for Zenobios, sharing his life with Athanasia is just another cherished moment.

She wears a flowing white robe, looser than her usual attire, its trailing fabric brushing the ground with every step. Maidservants and nurses flank her. The soft moonlight catches the crown of her head, giving her an ethereal glow beyond mortal description. Her black hair carries a delicate fragrance. Her fair skin, radiant smile, she is the perfect embodiment of perfection. Zenobios silently thanks his forefathers for granting him this blessing.

Dorothea gently places a shawl over Athanasia's shoulders against the creeping cold of the night. The sight makes Zenobios a little melancholic. The shawl hides the beauty of her bare shoulders.

He watches from afar until Athanasia's eyes meet his. With a playful hand on her waist and a mock expression of impatience, she calls out,

"Are we going home or not?"

Snapped from his daze, Zenobios hurries to her. A nurse emerges, carrying their newborn. As he focuses on the child, Athanasia adds in a teasing voice,

"At least hold him for me."

"R-right… Sorry…" He stammers, taking the child into his arms. The newborn sleeps soundly, his tiny face filling Zenobios with immeasurable pride and affection. He stares down at the boy until Athanasia chides him again.

"Ahem. Well then! Keep moving. Chop chop." She claps softly, feigning urgency.

"A-ah, yes…"

Zenobios turns toward the carriage but then glances back at Dorothea near the door.

"I apologize for how I acted earlier."

He lowers himself slightly in a bow, but Dorothea rushes forward, stopping him before he can go further.

"Sire! What are you doing?" she gasps.

Zenobios freezes in place. Dorothea speaks again.

"Your Highness, you have nothing to apologize for. Please…"

A gentle smile spreads across Zenobios' face. He nods, thanking her quietly, and turns back toward the carriage. As he walks away, Dorothea clutches the fabric at her chest, a strange ache tightening her heart.

The coachman, one of Erastos' warriors, stands ready. As Zenobios and Athanasia approach, Erastos steps toward the driver.

"Step down. I'll take the reins," Erastos says quietly.

The coachman glances between the approaching couple and Erastos, the hesitation not escaping Zenobios' notice. He lifts his arm, gesturing for Athanasia to hold back, the baby cradled carefully in his other arm. Approaching them, he asks,

"Is there a problem?"

Erastos and the coachman exchange glances. The general replies,

"It's nothing, sire… Really…"

Zenobios narrows his eyes. The coachman, not bound by Erastos' silence, speaks up,

"Your Highness, Sir Erastos asked me to step down so he could drive the carriage himself."

Zenobios raises a brow.

"Why? Is he not a good driver?"

Erastos shifts, caught off guard.

"No, sire. Forgive me. It's nothing."

He steps aside, clearing the path to the carriage. Zenobios looks back at Athanasia and beckons her forward.

They board. The coachman whips the reins, setting the horses into motion. The carriage crosses the bridge leading away from the cabin. Inside, Athanasia sits beside Zenobios, who holds Vyrian gently in his arms. They pass through the arched gate. Two sirens hover at either side, bowing midair as the carriage glides beneath them.

Athanasia, her gaze fixed on the passing scenery, finally speaks.

"How about we have our son's fate read by the Manteis1?"

A faint unease stirs in Zenobios. He cannot say why. He shakes it off as fatigue. Watching Athanasia, he gives a soft reply.

"Hmm. Alright."

The carriage enters the dense forest beyond Eden's city center. The towering trees are so vast they blot out the sky, taller even than the cabin's doors. The woods swallow all light, but the divine horses pulling their carriage emit a soft radiance that lights their path.

Athanasia breaks the quiet.

"Sorry for making you come here on such short notice," she says gently. "Dorothea told me it would be soon… but I didn't think this soon."

Her voice carries a faint trace of guilt. The war still rages, a war that could decide the fate of the heavens, of Eden itself.

Zenobios chuckles softly.

Athanasia glances at him, half-annoyed.

"Did I say something strange?"

He shakes his head, still smiling.

"No. It's just… how do I explain it?" He watches the blurred shapes of the trees flashing past. "No matter the war, peace, or ruin, I'll always come for you. And now… for one more."

He looks at Vyrian in his arms.

"I know someone in my position isn't supposed to think this way. But even I have the right to love and protect. Maybe my existence denies it… but I'll fulfill those duties regardless."

Athanasia rests her head gently against his shoulder, closing her eyes.

Zenobios thinks to question her, but he already understands. He lets the moment linger. As the carriage rolls on, the forest's density thins, and faint beams of moonlight finally pierce the darkness.