001: Starless

  The first finger was given to the first beings born from the depths of the ocean; it was given to them by the stars for their constant desire to grow and expand. The ability to spread.

  The second finger was given to the first animals capable of working in groups; it was given to them by the stars when they saw how these beings overcame the limits imposed by individuality, overcoming adversity. The ability to cooperate.

  The third finger was given to those who felt a hunger greater than just expanding; the stars gave it to animals capable of feeling beyond their natural instinct. The ability to desire.

  The fourth finger was given to beasts capable of structuring the world, given by the stars to those who created language, writing, art, and weapons. The ability to civilize.

  The fifth finger... The fifth finger was given to only five species; it is the greatest gift of the stars, a blessing with which one can ask the heavens for a favor; it is what separates the heleny from the beasts and what gives us the right to claim this land, and also the curse that forces us to fight among ourselves; only five blessings for five great races. The ability to create and destroy.

  Helena – The first blessed one...

  ...

  The bed was empty and messy; the fabric sheets only covered half of the wool mattress and the pillow was on the floor. It was covered from corner to corner with complex maps of a labyrinth drawn on a rough, yellowed paper. On top of the piles of paper slept a man with a gaunt body and face. His thinness made resting on the towers of paper feel as comfortable as any woolen sheet. His hair, dark gray like anthracite stones, ran from his head to his shoulders and would be even longer if it weren't for the curls that fought against gravity. His beard barely covered his chin as did his mustache against his lips. His gray eyes slowly opened, followed by a long yawn that barely managed to lift him from his unorthodox bed.

  “What a pain having to work....”

  The man stood up while brushing the hair from his face. He was only slightly shorter than the ceiling of his adobe and wood door. He dressed in his sandals, a linen bag full of papers, and a black wool tunic with blue trim held together by a small bronze brooch. The white himation he was supposed to wear to denote his nobility lay dirty at the foot of his bed, and he didn't even glance at it before leaving his room.

  Like all the houses in the city of Helena, this one had a room for slaves, but since he had none, it had been converted into a humble armory full of dirt, dust, and spiders everywhere. From that place, he took only a small, poorly forged bronze ring; it was full of traces of other impure minerals and kept in the only wooden drawer that remained clean. He placed the ring on the middle finger of his left hand, the proximal phalanx in which he had a long, thin scar that extended to the knuckle. The poorly made ring barely hid anything of this old wound, and yet the man seemed to care for it with all the affection in the world.

  In the dining room, there was only a dirty plate and a note with a seal that glowed slightly on its own: “Polemarch Asterion ‘the Starless, the archon of light requests that you report to the gate of the labyrinth with your phalanx to map the way back to the city of Scíathos.”

  “Damn end of the month.” said Asterion as he broke the seal on the paper with his finger, causing the entire paper to light up for a few seconds before returning to normal.

  “With this, Laconia should know what to do.”

  Fully awake, he ate only a piece of bread with dried meat and left his home. It was already midnight, and the moon shone dimly over the city of Helena. The adobe and wooden houses stretched across the plain as far as the eye could see. The inner wall in the distance covered half the horizon, while only the tip of the outer wall was visible. Above it all stood the acropolis next to the magnificent Parthenon, the temple dedicated to the founder of the city and the stars that blessed her. There was not a single child of Helena in sight, for the heleny who lived within the inner wall rarely went out after midnight.

  The gate to the labyrinth was just below the acropolis, and the tranquility of the night slowed Asterion's steps. He concentrated on anything that distracted him from the task imposed by his superior. Having to map the routes of the labyrinth every time it was rearranged was a well-paid job, but very hard, which only the polemarchs who fight under the wing of the archon of light could do, alongside their phalanxes.

  Repetitive sounds were heard near the market. It was as if a completely wet cloth was hitting the ground over and over again. The sound was coming from the labyrinth, and the guards were only concerned with guarding the outer wall. Who was in the market at this hour?

  The polemarch walked silently through the darkness, muffling the sound of his footsteps, and slowly saw a figure in the distance grow larger with every meter he advanced. A being covered in an enormous hood repeatedly struck the corpse of a minotaur slave with a club. Blood barely splattered, and the giant's weapon was about to break from so many blows.

  “HEY!”

  Asterion's shout frightened the creature, which ran straight towards the entrance to the labyrinth. The minotaur's mangled body remained there as a sad monument to what had happened. Not a single one of the nearby houses called a guard to report the situation or even bothered to light a candle to understand what was going on.

  “I suppose it's logical.” thought Asterion.

  Heleny and minotaurs are at war, and any slave is just another enemy subjugated by the rest. No one would be interested in the life of a sad vassal who serves only as labor.

  “It's logical, right?”

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  The logic was correct, slaves had tried to escape and a member of the red phalanx was cracking down on potential revolutionaries. In theory, he was doing good for the city, and it only took a little reasoning to understand that this was necessary.

  “Logical... Logos.”

  Logos: a word that represents reason, thought, and meaning, all terms that could not be used to describe what Asterion saw before his eyes as he closed his hands over those of the minotaur. The polemarch decided to run in the middle of the night to the entrance of the labyrinth, and when he saw the hooded figure enter through the sealed gate, Asterion mentally prepared himself for what he would face.

  The door to the labyrinth is divided into two sections, the fortified passageway and the barracks. In the latter is the target panel, filled with missions signed by the five archons that upon completion, one can earn their favor and several drachmas, of course. The hooded man, his weapon still covered in blood, looked at the notes as if nothing had happened. He took a piece of paper out of his bag, completely blank except for a bright red signature, which he erased with his finger and placed on the edge of the panel before finally sitting down at the bar in the barracks; a gift from the red archon to the victorious phalanxes. The giant finally turned to face the polemarch.

  “Starless bastard! you scared me with that scream. I thought a real man had discovered me,” said the huge 2-meter-tall heleny as he poured wine from the barrels. “Sit with me or I'll kill you.”

  Asterion sat down, took a jug, and poured himself some wine.

  “Why are you secretly killing slaves?” said the young man as he watched his drink reflect a face full of dark circles.

  “Orders from my archon. Slaves from Scíathos rebelled and escaped from the city. My lord sent me to kill some of Helena's minotaurs who could sow seeds of rebellion.”

  “Could?” said Asterion, looking the man in the eye.

  “Yes, you never know when these cows might rebel, and it's best to keep them on a leash full of fear. A defect like you wouldn't understand,” he said as he brought his jug to his mouth. "There are never enough precautions to take in war. Any sign of rebellion, no matter how small, must be crushed. Ah! And if you say anything about this, I'll tell my archon to let me kill you with my own hands."

  Asterion held his drink tightly as he remembered the scene and the minotaur's face. He took a deep breath and sighed with all his strength before speaking again.

  “Why?”

  The giant looked at him strangely.

  “Why what?”

  Asterion could only stare at the ceiling and close his eyes slightly.

  “Why do you guys always do the same thing, over and over again?” The polemarch lowered his gaze again. “Every single one of you bastards.”

  The man was finally getting ready to take his first sip.

  “It's not like he's hard to replace. I'm sure the owner of that slave will get a better one tomorrow morning. You never understand anything, do you? I'll never stop wondering how you got the archon of light to give you that title. Polemarch… Anyway, it doesn't matter. As soon as your escort finds something better, you'll die in a second in the labyrinth.”

  The giant finally put his lips to his jug.

  “Useless.”

  The jug in the polemarch's hand crashed into the assassin's head, covering his entire head with wine. With his eyes closed, he grabbed his club and tried to swing it blindly in front of him. The attack destroyed the entire bar, but he felt no resistance from flesh. Asterion had already moved away and armed with the chair where he had been resting struck him another blow to the head which broke the furniture but not his skull.

  “Have you finally decided to kill yourself?” said the warrior as he wiped the wine from his eyes.

  Asterion threw another chair at the giant, but he simply caught it with his left hand, which had a bronze ring on his middle finger with a long stone covering almost the entire proximal phalanx. It began to glow slightly with a grayish light as the thrown chair became covered with stones until it formed a sphere of rock.

  “Let's play, Asterion!”

  The half-meter stone was thrown at the polemarch, who barely managed to dodge it while hiding behind a wooden table. The giant slammed his club against the table, destroying it and the floor, from the rubble Asterion armed with the leg of the destroyed furniture struck the giant's groin with all his might. He fell to his knees, and before the polemarch could deliver the final blow to his chin, the ring glowed once more.

  “Kornephoros.”

  The first favor is granted to the blessed when they turn five years old. The star whispers its name in the ear of its champion, and when he repeats it, a fraction of the power of heaven becomes reality. Kornephoros is the star of stone and the giver of strength. It is said to bless those who do not back down from anything, those who are not afraid to impose their truth on others, for better or for worse.

  The giant's chin, neck, and various parts of his torso and arms turned to stone and became covered in it. The polemarch's improvised weapon was destroyed on impact, followed by a sharp blow to his chest, which was covered by his arms.

  “That a useless man like you have made me use a favor...”

  Asterion writhed on the ground, gasping for air. It was a miracle that his arms weren't broken, but the pain was too much for him to get up. The huge heleny walked slowly as he raised his club.

  "Time to do Helena a favor. Goodbye, ‘Starless’.

  The polemarch raised his hand with five fingers, waiting for some blessing, for every being born with five fingers is born with the favor of a star; men and women, kings and slaves, cowards and honorable men, none of that matters; if you are born with five fingers on your hands it means you were chosen by a star. Everyone except Asterion. No star in all the heavens answered his prayer. He was alone, as always, and yet Asterion had five fingers on his hands.

  “Kornephoros,” said Asterion with the little breath he had finally regained.

  The stone thrown by the huge heleny and dodged by Asterion broke on impact against the barracks wall. The polemarch simply picked up a rock and struck the giant's groin once more, causing him to miss his blow against the wall, destroying it completely and falling out of the building.

  “Please give up,” said the polemarch as he got up.

  Asterion clutched his chest tightly as he looked for a chair that was still in good condition so he could rest, but amid the dust and debris, the giant rose once more.

  “I'm going to... kill you...” said the giant, holding back his anger as he breathed heavily.

  A strange heat came into the barracks from outside, and Asterion realized he could finally let go of his chest and relax in his chair.

  “I know, I know. Come on, kill me with your own hands, won't you?”

  Like a raging bull, the Greek ran as fast as he could. His club was broken and his only goal was to do the same to the polemarch with his hands. Just before he reached him Asterion closed his eyes and part of him expected to meet the same fate as the minotaur, but it never came. The next thing he saw with his eyes was his enemy's left hand cut off and him writhing on the floor.

  “Polemarch.”

  The words came from behind Asterion, who didn't have to turn around to know where the voice was coming from.

  “Laconia... Sorry for always causing you trouble.”

  “Don't worry.”

  The giant didn't even have the strength to shout. He simply took the ring from his severed hand and ran away as fast as he could.

  The night was finally able to have some silence, although Asterion's mind was unable to calm down, memories of heleny and minotaurs running through his mind over and over again.

  “Aren't they going to execute us for this?” said the voice behind the Polemarch.

  “Nah, the damn firefly will protect us.”

  Despite those words, Asterion couldn't take his eyes off the corpse. Only one thought came to mind, one that even he didn't fully understand.

  “I'm sorry...”

  The apology was directed at the dead minotaur, who would become another bitter reminder of the failures of a man without a single star above his head.