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Heracles paused at the door and knocked. “Mother? It’s me.”
“Come in, my son. The door is open,” Alcmene’s voice floated back, calm as always.
He pushed the door wide. Sunlight poured through the window, casting a soft glow over Alcmene where she sat in her white gown, a book resting on the table beside her. She lifted her gaze to them, her face serene, almost ethereal.
Heracles stepped closer. “Mother, I came to tell you—I’ll be going with Gwen to his home for a few days.”
Alcmene’s eyes lingered on him a moment, then softened into a gentle smile. “Very well, Heracles. Go, then. May the journey be light.”
“Thank you, Mother,” he said, bowing his head slightly, happiness flickering in his voice.
“Good day to you, Queen Alcmene,” Gwen added, polite and warm.
“Safe travels, both of you,” she replied, inclining her head.
They left the chamber quietly, Heracles easing the door shut behind them.
In the living room, Amelinda was waiting. Her eyes flicked between the boys and the small bag Heracles carried. “You’re leaving now?”
“Yes,” Heracles answered.
“Please send my regards to your mother and Aunt Lena,” Gwen said.
“I will,” Amelinda replied, though her gaze lingered on him a moment longer than usual.
She walked with them to the eaves, where the carriage waited beside the rose garden fence. The horses pawed the ground impatiently, snorting clouds of breath into the air.
“See you soon, Amelinda,” Gwen said, flashing his easy grin.
“See you,” she answered, her tone softer than before.
“We’re off,” Heracles added, climbing aboard.
“Safe trip,” Amelinda said, raising her hand in farewell.
As the carriage rolled away, Gwen leaned out to wave at the Old Gardener. “Goodbye, Old Gardener!”
The old man straightened, brushing dirt from his hands, and waved back with a smile.
Amelinda stayed at the threshold, her figure still against the frame of the house. She watched until the carriage vanished down the road, the sound of its wheels fading into the distance. Only then did she turn back inside, her thoughts heavy, the silence of the house settling around her.
***
It had been years since Heracles last stood beneath Gwen’s roof. His childhood memories of the place were faint—marble steps, a fountain’s soft murmur, corridors that once seemed endless. Now the mansion rose on its lonely hill, all pale stone and shadowed eaves. He tried to summon the faces of the servants who had kept the house then and found them blurred at the edges, like sketches left unfinished.
A thought struck him. He turned to Gwen. “When do we tell Amelinda?”
The carriage rocked on. Only hoofbeats and the snap of the coachman’s whip answered.
Gwen watched the road, jaw tight. “I’ve thought about it,” he said finally. “I pushed the thought away. This is dangerous, Heracles. I won’t put her in it.”
Heracles leaned forward, hands folded on his knees. “You forget who she is. Amelinda isn’t slow to notice. She’ll see through us—whether we speak or not.” He let the words hang, then cut them off. “And—” He didn’t finish.
Gwen’s fingers drummed once against the window frame. He closed his mouth, then said, “I need more time.”
Heracles shrugged, not without patience. “All right. I trust you. But why bring me here today if not to tell her?”
Gwen met his eyes, open and serious. “There are stones in my father’s house—old, enchanted things. I think some lie forgotten in the attic. They are the last pieces I need for the shifting circles. I can’t search alone.”
Heracles regarded him a long moment. “You told no one else?”
“Only you.” Gwen’s voice was level. “If word gets out, it’s ruined. Too many questions, too many hands. That is why I hesitate to tell Amelinda.”
“So that is your reason.” Heracles let the words hang, then gave a slow nod. “She would try to stop us. Sensible—and stubborn. Which means she’ll uncover it soon enough.”
Gwen’s mouth curved in a thin smile. “Perhaps. For now, we search. Together.”
The rhythm of the horses shifted as the carriage reached the base of the hill. Hooves struck harder against the incline, the coach groaning as it climbed. Gwen pulled the curtain aside, peered out, and let it fall back with a grin.
“We’re nearly there.”
A final lurch, then the carriage halted. The horses blew hard, stamping.
“We’ve arrived, Master Gwen,” the coachman called.
“I know,” Gwen answered lightly. He ducked his head beneath the low ceiling, pushed the door wide, and stepped down. Heracles followed, and the coachman drove off, leaving them in the stillness of the courtyard.
Heracles turned, taking in the view. A green-stone path wound from the bronze gate across a narrow pool, ending at the steps where they stood. The grass on either side was trimmed so neat it looked painted on.
“It’s been a long time. Almost nothing’s changed,” he said.
“Almost nothing,” Gwen agreed, flashing him a smile. “Come on—inside.”
They crossed the threshold together. Almost at once, Gwen’s parents appeared, moving quickly down the hall.
“Oh, Heracles! It has been far too long,” Gwen’s mother exclaimed, her eyes warm as she clasped his hand. “You’ve grown so much.”
Heracles bowed his head politely. “It’s good to see you again, Aunt Elysia.”
She smiled, though a glance at the clock betrayed her haste. “I’m sorry—we’re just on our way out. We won’t be able to stay.”
“That’s all right,” Heracles said easily. “I’ll be here with Gwen.”
“Make yourself at home,” Gwen’s father added, pausing beside his wife.
“I will. Thank you,” Heracles replied with a smile.
Elysia touched her son’s arm. “Take good care of him, Gwen.”
“I will, Mother,” Gwen promised.
“We must go, Elysia,” his father said quickly, already striding toward the door. The couple swept out together, their voices fading down the hall.
Heracles watched them vanish, then turned to Gwen. “They seemed in quite a hurry. What’s going on?”
Gwen gave a small shrug. “It’s nothing new. My parents are often called to councils in the city—matters of politics, trade, endless debates. They’re rarely home for long.”
“Ah,” Heracles murmured.
They walked on. The corridor stretched before them, cool and long, its walls echoing their steps. At the far end the staircase waited, just where Heracles remembered from years ago. Gwen led the way.
“Master Gwen!” A clear voice rang down. A young maid appeared on the stairs, careful with her footing as she spotted the two climbing up.
Her eyes flicked to Heracles. “Who is he, Master?” she asked, curiosity softening her tone before she turned back to Gwen.
Gwen smiled easily. “This is Heracles—my closest friend.”
Her face lit. “An honor to meet you, Master Heracles! I’m Alma.”
Heracles returned the smile. “And I, you.”
“You seem very kind,” Alma added, her voice gentle, almost admiring.
Before Heracles could answer, Gwen glanced at the sun through the window and spoke quickly. “We’re in a hurry, Alma. We’ll talk later.”
“Of course, Master,” she said, bowing her head. “I have my duties.” She lifted her feather duster and turned back to the railing, dusting with careful strokes.
Without another word, Gwen and Heracles resumed their climb. Their footsteps echoed softly around the bend of the stair.
After a pause, Heracles asked, his curiosity plain, “Is she new to your household?”
Gwen shook his head with a small smile. “To you, perhaps. But Alma has been with us for years.”
Heracles nodded slowly. “I suppose it feels that way only because I’ve been gone so long.”
“Exactly,” Gwen said, his smile lingering as they climbed higher.
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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