3. The Space Rings and the Serpent's Gaze
Heracles’s gaze snapped to it. The venomous glow collapsed, vanishing as though it had never been. A cold knot tightened in his gut.
He shook it off, breath ragged, hands trembling around the dragon’s rod.
Against the sweat and ache, a grin broke across Heracles’s face—fierce, defiant. He had held the dragon and not let go.
Amelinda whooped, her rainbow scepter flaring as she threw her arms around him.
“Herc, you’re unreal!” she cried, her voice bright but trembling. Her gaze darted to the far alcove. “But… that thing. It’s giving me chills.”
Heracles’s grin softened. He followed her stare. The shadows seemed to watch back.
Gwen leaned against a shelf, Griffin scepter slung over his shoulder like a wanderer’s prize. He gave a low whistle.
“Man, Herc, you just wrestled a dragon and won,” he said, his grin sharp as a gust through fog. His eyes flicked to the alcove, curiosity sparking. “That glow, though? Looks like trouble worth poking.”
His fingers twitched, itching for mischief.
Ham’s chipped smile faltered. His golden eyes narrowed toward the corner.
“Some things don’t take kindly to prying.” His voice dropped like a door slamming shut. “You’ve got your scepters—let’s keep moving.”
He reached into his patched jacket and drew out three rings, their runes flickering like embers.
“These are for you. Space rings—your keys to the shop’s deeper tricks.”
Amelinda leaned forward, braid swinging, unease shifting to awe. “Space rings?” she breathed, as if unwrapping a secret.
Ham held one up, its runes catching the lamplight like whispers.
“This place isn’t a shop at all—it’s a bridge. Each floor, another world stitched by doors. That crumbling storefront you saw? Just the mask. These rings weave smaller bridges—pocket realms for your gear. Fifty items for now. Grow stronger, they stretch.”
Gwen slipped a ring on, twirling it with a grin that screamed adventure.
“So I get my own hidden stash? Sold.” His eyes gleamed, already chasing storms in his head.
Heracles slid his ring on. The metal burned warm against his skin. A white void flickered in his mind—vast, empty, unnerving. He tightened his grip on the dragon scepter, the alcove’s memory still clawing at him.
Gwen’s grin widened, fingers twitching with mischief. He crouched, plucking coins, scrolls, and trinkets from his belt, tossing them toward the shimmering ring.
At first, the objects vanished cleanly, absorbed into the pocket space. Coins spun like tiny planets, scrolls fluttered like restless birds, and a jeweled dagger flipped once, caught by invisible hands. Gwen’s eyes sparkled. “Look at this! I can fit everything!”
But then he pushed too far. He jammed in a small chest, ornate bracers, and a bundle of glass vials all at once. The ring shuddered violently, the shimmer rippling like disturbed water. Sparks flickered, coins rattled midair, and one vial cracked, leaking a faint, eerie glow before vanishing. The pocket space groaned under the overload, objects pressing and twisting against each other like a miniature storm. Gwen stumbled, fingers white on the ring, the hum of its energy vibrating up his arm.
Heracles’s eyes narrowed. The dragon scepter flared in his grip. “Careful,” he rasped. “Even these rings have limits.”
Ham’s voice cut through, calm but sharp. “Rings obey rules. Each object draws energy to exist inside the space. Overfill it, and it fights back—or worse, collapses. Nothing living survives the chaos if it fails.”
Gwen exhaled sharply, easing out the excess. The remaining objects settled, swallowed by the void with a soft hum of approval. “Lesson learned,” he muttered, rubbing his fingers along the ring.
Amelinda slid hers on carefully. Her fingers traced invisible runes, her jaw firm. The peacock scepter shimmered and vanished, settling neatly into a cozy nook cushioned by books and sketches only she could see. Precision, patience—the difference was clear.
Heracles hesitated, the white void looming cold and empty in his mind. He shoved aside the echo of Gwen’s chaos and raised the dragon scepter. Heat clung to his palms as it dissolved into the ring. He felt the subtle pushback of the void, the energy cost of moving a powerful object, and the faint pulse of the shadows that lingered in the alcove.
Ham clapped once, sharp and bright against the quiet. “Well done. Those rings are yours. Use them wisely. Push them too far, and the space pushes back—or collapses. Especially around… that.” He nodded toward the dark corner, his grin tight with warning.
Gwen muttered under his breath, fingers still tingling from the hum. “Next time… I’ll respect the space.” The void inside the ring pulsed once, then settled into obedient calm, but its subtle heartbeat reminded them all: these rings were alive, powerful, and demanded care.
Ham clapped, the sound sharp and crisp against the chill. “Well done. Those rings are yours. Use them wisely—especially around that.” He nodded toward the dark corner, the tight set of his grin warning of unseen danger.
“Now, upstairs. Hippocoon’s no stroll in the meadow—you’ll need every bit of gear.”
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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