They climbed the last steps. Gwen shoved the trapdoor open with a grunt, pulled himself up, then reached down to clasp Heracles’s arm and haul him through.
Heracles straightened, blinking. “By the gods… this place is massive.” His voice echoed faintly in the rafters.
The attic stretched wide and dim, cluttered with rows of chests, baskets of parchment, and odd scraps of metal stacked without order. Dust veiled everything, so thick that even the light filtering through the roof panes looked tired and gray.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Gwen said with a crooked grin. He swept an arm at the chaos. “Behold, my family’s treasure hoard—or junk heap, depending on your mood.”
Heracles gave a short laugh, then shook his head. “You weren’t joking. I don’t think I could find my way out alone.”
“Good thing you’ve got me,” Gwen replied easily. He crossed to a small, plain chest tucked against the wall, no lock on its lid, just wood darkened with age. He crouched and brushed off the dust, leaving streaks on his palms.
“This is it,” he said, lifting the lid. “Where I found the Aurelia map.”
Heracles stepped closer, leaning in. Gwen pulled free a leather notebook bound with a fraying cord. A faded quill was still tucked under the string, stiff with age.
“Does it belong to someone in your family?” Heracles asked.
Gwen tilted his head, turning the book over in his hands. “Maybe. Or maybe it just got lost here and nobody bothered to throw it out. We collect too much of everything.” He passed it to Heracles with a wry smile. “Feels like the attic keeps its own secrets.”
Heracles untied the fraying string. The leather creaked as he opened it, and the first page showed words half-faded, smudged by time. He squinted, then read aloud:
“This is Sherwin and Ailion’s diary—Journey to Ailion’s Home.”
The air in the attic seemed to still. Heracles’s voice softened with reverence as he turned the page.
I was once a poor orphan, with no home or name worth remembering.
I survived by running errands for landlords—hauling water, feeding horses, chopping wood.
At night, I slept beside the stables, my only comfort the sound of the beasts breathing in the dark.
One dawn, while searching for kindling, I wandered deeper into the forest than ever before. My belly was empty, my thoughts full of longing for an easier life. That was when I saw it—
a gemstone, half-buried in the moss.
It glowed faintly, blue as moonlight, pulsing like a living heart.
I wrapped it in my shirt and carried it back, hiding it beneath the straw where I slept.
For nine nights I checked it, guarding it as if it were hope itself.
But on the tenth morning—it was gone.
In its place lay tiny shards that shimmered like broken starlight.
Then the straw moved.
Something small and trembling pushed through—its front half feathered, its hindquarters furred, and a tail that wagged like a puppy’s.
The gemstone had not been treasure.
It had been an egg.
I stared, breathless. The creature blinked up at me with golden eyes. Then, to my shock, it chirped—a soft, trilling sound that felt like laughter.
I named it Ailion, meaning “born of light.”
From that moment on, Ailion never left my side.
In the mornings, when I carried firewood, it would wriggle beneath my coat, tiny claws clinging gently to my chest.
When we reached the trees, it would leap free, fluttering from branch to branch with unsteady wings.
At dusk, it always returned, curling against me as the stars appeared.
For the first time in my life, I was not alone.
Years slipped by.
Ailion grew swiftly—its wings stretched wider, its feathers gleamed with sunlight, and its claws could pierce stone.
Soon it stood taller than a horse, proud and magnificent, a lion’s body crowned with the head and wings of an eagle.
Yet when it nuzzled my hand, I still saw the small creature that had once hatched in the straw beside me.
Its feathers shed fragments that glowed faintly in the dark.
I sold some of them in secret and earned enough to leave servitude behind.
With that fortune, I built a small home at the edge of an ancient forest—a place where Ailion could roam freely, unseen by cruel eyes.
For a time, peace returned to me.
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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