Meanwhile, Heracles and Amelinda walked back down the corridor to his room. Heracles pushed the door open, set the wooden box beside his bed, and dropped heavily onto the mattress. Amelinda lingered near the window, her expression tight, watching him.
For a while neither spoke. Then Heracles broke the silence. “It vanished. Just like that. Why would armor choose me… only to disappear?”
Amelinda leaned forward, her brows drawn. “Not disappear. Hide. That’s what it felt like. The spell was intentional.”
Heracles sat up, restless. “So it’s still here? On me? Inside me?”
“Maybe,” she said slowly. “The letter mentioned a binding charm—to ensure no one else could use it. That doesn’t sound like a prank. It sounds like protection.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, frowning. “Then how do I bring it back? There must be a way. A word, a sign—something.”
Amelinda crossed her arms, thinking. “Some enchantments answer to commands. Others to emotions. We don’t know which. Not yet.”
Heracles gave a frustrated laugh. “So I’m supposed to walk around waiting for it to appear on its own?”
“Better than tearing yourself apart trying tonight,” Amelinda said firmly. “You look worn out. Rest first. Sometimes the answer comes when you stop chasing it.”
He let out a long sigh, but didn’t argue. Lying back on the bed, he lifted the parchment and stared at its lines until his eyelids grew heavy. The words blurred, slipped from his fingers, and soon sleep pulled him under.
“Heracles! Wake up!” Amelinda’s voice startled him. He blinked to see her standing over him.
“It’s evening,” she said sharply. “You slept through the whole afternoon.”
Heracles pushed himself up, dazed. “Evening? Already?”
“Yes. Dinner’s waiting. Get up before the others finish without you.”
Still groggy, he splashed water on his face, slipped into his sandals, and followed Amelinda toward the kitchen, the memory of the vanished armor circling stubbornly in his thoughts.
He hurried down the stairs, passed through the living room, and stepped into the kitchen. The table was already full.
“Hurry up, Master Heracles! We’ve been waiting for you,” said July, who had returned sometime after lunch.
Heracles pulled out the empty chair beside his mother and sat down. “When did you get back, Aunt July?”
“After lunch, Master Heracles,” she replied.
Heracles picked up his knife and fork. “And did you manage to solve your problem?”
“Yes, all done,” July smiled. “But where were you? I didn’t see you at all.”
“I—slept,” Heracles admitted, chewing slowly.
July tilted her head. “All this time? That must’ve been some sleep.”
“He really was asleep the whole afternoon,” Amelinda added, with a squeak of exasperation. “I had to wake him myself.”
Heracles’s mother looked over at him, her brow faintly furrowed. “Are you well, my son?”
“I’m fine, Mother,” Heracles said quickly, flashing her a reassuring smile. “Just tired, that’s all.”
“Good,” she murmured, though her eyes lingered on him a heartbeat longer before she returned to her plate.
Across the table, Lena leaned forward, curiosity bright in her eyes. “I heard you got a present this morning, Heracles. Is that true?”
Heracles froze for a moment, then gave a small nod. “Yes. A gift. But… it’s complicated.”
“Complicated?” Lena pressed eagerly. “What was it?”
Amelinda answered for him, careful to keep her tone even. “An armor. A very rare one. But it isn’t something we can use freely yet.”
“Armor?” Lena’s eyes widened. “Where is it now?”
Heracles set down his fork, looking at her calmly. “It’s… hidden. That’s all I can say.”
Lena opened her mouth to press further, but July gave her a gentle glance that told her to stop. Conversation at the table shifted back to lighter things, though a current of curiosity lingered.
Heracles ate in silence, yet his thoughts churned. The letter, the glow, the way the suit had seemed to breathe—it all gnawed at him.
Amelinda finally broke the quiet. “You should’ve seen it,” she said, her tone low but edged with awe. “The suit wasn’t like ordinary armor. It wrapped around him on its own, glowing so bright I could barely keep my eyes open. And then… it just sank away. Like it chose to hide itself.”
“Hide?” Lena echoed, leaning forward, eyes wide.
“Yes,” Amelinda nodded. “One moment it was there—solid, radiant. The next, it melted into his skin. We searched, but there was nothing left to see. Not even a trace.”
“That’s impossible,” Lena whispered, clearly fascinated. “Armor can’t just vanish.”
“Apparently this one can,” Amelinda said firmly. “And Queen Alcmene confirmed it’s no ordinary gift. She said it came from Perseus himself.”
That name silenced Lena. For a heartbeat, even she looked uncertain. Then she frowned. “So… if it’s from Perseus, why make it vanish? Why not let you keep it where everyone can see?”
Heracles set down his fork, his gaze fixed on the table. “Maybe that’s the point,” he said quietly. “Maybe it isn’t meant to be seen—until the right time.”
No one argued after that. The rest of dinner passed with softer talk, though the mystery hung over the table like smoke.
Later, when the meal ended and the household drifted into the living room, the questions still weighed heavy. Heracles excused himself early, claiming tiredness.
Back in his chamber, he set the wooden box by his bed and lay flat on the mattress, staring at the ceiling. The memory of the golden threads wrapping his arm replayed again and again. He clenched his fists, half-hoping to feel the hidden suit stirring beneath his skin. But nothing came.
At last, exhaustion overcame him. With the parchment clutched loosely in one hand, Heracles drifted into a restless sleep, the riddle of the armor following him into his dreams.
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.
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