But then… something changed.
Through our bond—a bond that had grown stronger with every heartbeat—I began to sense a longing deep within Ailion’s soul.
A word formed in my mind, not spoken yet certain:
Home.
It grew restless, vanishing into the woods for days before returning. When I finally asked where “home” was, the answer came as a whisper of thought:
Beyond the sea.
I feared the truth, but I could not deny it.
One night, when I asked if it must go, Ailion’s reply burned through my mind:
Yes.
I could not sleep.
After days of silence, I made my choice. If Ailion must return, then I would follow.
We rose into the skies together at dawn.
The world unfurled beneath us—forests vast as oceans, rivers twisting like threads of silver, mountain ridges lost in mist.
When night came, we flew above the clouds, where the stars burned so close I thought I could reach them.
But the sea was merciless.
Storms rose with voices like gods in anger. Lightning tore the sky; waves clawed at us from below.
Yet Ailion did not yield. Its wings beat against the chaos, carrying us ever eastward.
Once, when we landed to rest, we found an island veiled in fog and rain.
The trees were pale and weeping; the ground glimmered with stagnant pools where the sky itself seemed trapped beneath the surface.
Ailion said nothing, but I felt its sorrow—like a memory buried in the bones of the land.
There was something ancient there, something that mourned.
We left before dawn, never speaking of that place again.
Days passed.
At last, the sea parted to reveal a vast island blazing with light.
Mountains glowed as though carved from crystal. Rivers of molten gold wound through emerald valleys.
This was Ailion’s home—the island of Griffins, Aurelia Isle.
They welcomed me as one of their own, bound by Ailion’s love.
In time I learned their language of thought, their crafts of wind and storm, their wisdom older than fire itself.
Half a year I stayed among them, learning, marveling.
But mortals are restless by nature.
I began to long for the human world once more.
When I told Ailion, it did not protest. It only looked at me with understanding—and sorrow.
It brought me before the Griffin King. The King spoke without words:
Your bond endures. You may return when you wish.
Then he showed me their greatest secret: the shifting-circles—rings of light that fold the world upon itself.
One step, and the horizon changes.
When I stepped through, I found myself back at my door.
The same sky, the same fields—yet everything felt smaller.
I grew old, surrounded by family and laughter, but never forgot the beating of those wings.
When my children left home, the longing returned stronger than ever.
I began to study the shifting-circles, hoping to forge one of my own.
Years turned to decades before I succeeded.
And when I stepped through again, Ailion was there—waiting.
Since then, I have returned whenever I could, though the world beyond these circles forgets my name.
This journal I leave behind for the one who finds it.
If you read these words, then our blood runs in your veins.
The pendant enclosed bears the Griffin King’s blessing—a single drop of his eternal light.
As long as you wear it, the Griffins will know you as kin.
Remember: there was once a bond between humankind and the Griffins, sealed in love, not conquest.
And there are still shifting-circles in the world—waiting for one with courage to step through.
Go, seek the island, and let that friendship live again.
—Sherwin
Heracles lowered the diary, his hand lingering on the worn leather. The attic felt strangely quiet, as though the dust itself was listening.
“It’s a long tale,” he murmured. “Hard to believe… but it doesn’t sound like a lie.”
He turned to Gwen. “You’ve read this before, haven’t you?”
“Of course,” Gwen answered easily, his grin faint but sure.
“And the necklace?” Heracles pressed.
“I found it,” Gwen admitted. “It’s in my room. Didn’t think I needed to parade it around.”
Heracles’s gaze narrowed. “And the last pages? You know how to make a shifting-circle?”
Gwen tapped the diary with one finger, thoughtful. “I’ve read them, yes. I know the steps. But I can’t finish it here.”
“Why not?” Heracles asked, curiosity sharp.
“Because the key ingredient is missing.” Gwen’s eyes gleamed as he met his friend’s stare. “Magic stones. Without them, the circle won’t hold.”
Heracles drew a long breath, gaze drifting across the attic. Dust floated in the sunlight, settling over towers of chests and baskets. It looked less like storage and more like a labyrinth of forgotten lives.
“I have to admit,” Gwen continued, brushing dust off a chest as if it were nothing, “when I first read the diary, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Meeting a griffin, flying on its back—like Sherwin did. That’s the kind of dream you don’t just let go. Might even be my life’s goal.”
Heracles crossed his arms, staring at him. “Flying on a griffin’s back? That’s madness. And forbidden besides.”
“I know, I know,” Gwen replied quickly, flashing a crooked grin. Yet his fingers lingered on the diary’s cover, betraying how serious he truly was. “Most people are banned. But not everyone. Remember Professor Finn? He holds a license.” His grin faded, voice lowering. “It’s rare, but not impossible.”
“Professor Finn?” Heracles’s brows shot up.
“Yes,” Gwen said simply. Then his smile returned, wide and bright. “Not that I’m expecting a license. I’d settle for reaching Aurelia, seeing the griffins, brushing a wing—maybe even sitting on one, just once—before coming back.”
Heracles shook his head, a laugh slipping out despite himself. “Reckless. Griffins are proud. They won’t bow to anyone.”
“I know the risk,” Gwen replied, still smiling, though his hand tightened on the necklace beneath his shirt. “But we’re not just anyone. With this, we’re kin.”
Heracles exhaled sharply and gestured at the mountains of relics around them. “Fine. Then where do you think these stones are hiding? In all this mess?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” Gwen knelt, tugging at the lid of a heavy chest with both hands. “But if we work together, we’ll finish before sundown.”
Heracles gave him a long look, half stern, half amused. Finally, he rolled up his sleeves. “Alright then. Let’s get started.”
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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