2. Dragon's Blood and the Huntbound Curse
Ham’s gaze locked on Heracles, eyes narrowing. For a heartbeat, they flashed gold, then dimmed.
“You’re the tough one,” he murmured, voice low, almost a growl. “I see threads of past and future in most—but you?” He tapped his temple lightly. “You’re a blank. Fogged. Unreadable.”
Heracles stiffened, fingers twitching.
“Still,” Ham continued, studying him, “I see fire in you. Independence. Strength that won’t bow. That screams dragon.”
He turned, moving deliberately to a shelf and pulled down a heavier rod. Its ironwood shaft glowed black and red, warm as coals beneath his hands. At its crown, a crystal orb cradled a single drop of crimson, swirling like molten lava, pulsing with a heartbeat all its own.
“Dragon’s blood,” Ham said softly, reverent. “From a beast that kneels to none. Fierce. Untamed. The ironwood’s the only thing strong enough to hold it. Harder than the wind, harder than the feather. It will test you, Heracles—every ounce of focus.”
He paused, voice dropping to a whisper, eyes glinting with something older than the room around them. “But beware, boy. Blood like this carries shadows. Ever heard of the Curse of the Huntbound? Old tales speak of predators—dragons, lions, or other beasts—bound with human souls by dark magic. The spirits serve their masters, hunting for them endlessly until the bond is broken. Slay the beast, free the soul—but the cost…” His lips curved into a faint, grim smirk. “It’s always blood.”
Heracles wrapped his hands around the rod, heat searing into his palms. “You mean… I’ll face something like that?”
Ham’s smirk faded, gaze drifting toward the shadows beyond the shelves. “Maybe. This rod chose you. Hold it tight—or it might burn you.”
Gwen’s voice cut through, sharp and impatient. “Okay, Ham, enough spooky stories! My turn, right?”
Ham chuckled, turning to the shelves, though his eyes flicked back to Heracles for a brief, lingering moment.
Heracles wrapped his hands around it. The weight settled into his palms, heat crawling up his arms like a living brand. He shut his eyes. A tremor shivered through the core, deep and low, like a dragon stirring in sleep.
The orb blazed. Fire spilled across the walls, molten and merciless, refusing to fade.
Heracles’s brow furrowed. Nothing but glare. No hum, no pulse—just raw defiance. His jaw clenched, frustration rising.
“Focus, Herc,” Ham urged, voice taut as steel. “You’re close.”
The blood darkened, bruising to deep crimson. The orb flickered.
The scepter bucked, snarling in his grip. A grinding rasp filled his skull—stone on stone, ancient and unyielding.
Heat surged, searing his palms. The air thickened, stinking of scorched iron.
“Five…” Ham barked, urgent.
Pain lanced behind Heracles’s eyes, white-hot, drowning thought. His pulse hammered, drowning the room—thud, thud, thud.
The scepter twisted, fighting to rip free.
“Three!” Ham’s voice cracked like a whip.
Heracles bared his teeth, locking both hands tighter. Heat crawled to his shoulders, muscles corded with strain.
Sweat burned his eyes. His breaths rasped, shallow, like dragging air through a forge.
“Two!”
The vibration roared through him, rattling teeth, bones, marrow. The floor trembled beneath his boots, the earth itself shuddering.
“One—”
Everything collapsed inward. A single, searing point of fire swallowed him whole.
And then—something looked back.
In the dark of his mind, scales scraped over stone. A growl rumbled through his ribs, silent but deafening, a storm locked in his chest.
Then—stillness.
The scepter stilled in his hands. The crimson drop flared once, then steadied, pulsing with his heartbeat.
Heracles exhaled hard, shoulders sagging, sweat dripping down his neck. Cool air washed over him, relief sharp as rain after fire.
But in the farthest alcove, something stirred.
A forgotten scepter pulsed faintly, its crystal sickly green-black. Light writhed inside like venom in glass. Tendrils slithered outward, drinking the lamplight, icing the corner with Underworld chill.
It throbbed once—slow, deliberate. A serpent’s heartbeat. Patient. Malicious.
Heracles and the Nemean Lion
The first epic in the Heracles and the Twelve Labors series — witness Heracles' legendary battle against the invincible lion. A tale of strength, fate, and immortal valor.
Heracles and the Dragon Hydra
The second chapter of the Heracles and the Twelve Labors series. Heracles faces the monstrous Hydra — a dragon-like beast with many heads, each reborn from the last. A mythic journey of courage, strategy, and divine challenge.
Heracles and the Burden of Mercy
The third chapter of the Heracles and the Twelve Labors series. Heracles faces the ultimate test of mercy by choosing to redeem the ethereal Ceryneian Hind instead of slaying it, while Avery atones through grueling labor, Lily sings the hymn that rebirths the Hydra, and the dark ocean Umbrother awakens, heralding a greater shadow to come.
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