Philon, a sophist in the small coastal town of Aitos, leisurely paced as he explained the nuances of the old religion. Occasionally, he would adjust the sleeve of his flowing pallium while maintaining a perfectly pitched voice. Each word was carefully selected, no hair was out of place and no eye contact was wasted.
Eloquence aside, Philon had since accepted that his looks had done half the job in tripling the number of followers in just four months. Elder Theologos would be pleased when he returns.
“Questions?” Philon asked. A few hands flew up. His gaze settled on one of his many admirers, the only daughter of the town head. “Speak, Sali.”
Colour blossomed across her cheek as her eyes widened. “You… you know my name?”
“Of course, I do. I know the name of all who listen to my teachings.” Philon offered what he hoped was a neutral smile. “This is your second attendance. Is it not?”
The thick ringlets of her wild curls bounced as she nodded eagerly. “Yes, it is.”
Philon offered an encouraging nod. “Ask your question.”
“You say the high gods did not manifest fully formed as stars.” A frown wrinkled her brow. “If… if that is so, then how did the land and sea come to be? Who made them?”
Murmurs rustled across the gathering with more than half scowling at her.
“Do not murmur. No question is foolish,” Philon said before returning his focus to Sali. “Before the stars, Nyx was. Nyx made the land and sea.”
“Oh.” She nodded as if coming to a sudden understanding. From her dry response, it was clear she asked the question merely to get his attention and not because she genuinely believed. But that was fine. Soon, all things would align.
“Yes, the gods stole power from Nyx,” Philon explained further as he met a few gazes. “They pretend to be deities and deceive us to worship and revere them.”
More grumbling rose mostly from the first-time attendees. It was always like this at the beginning. He could understand their worry, but soon all things would align and this town would—
“Teacher!”
A bright-eyed servant rushed in and eagerly whispered. “Elder Theologos wishes to see you.”
Philon frowned. “He has returned?”
The boy nodded. “And he brought with him a finding of great importance. I do not know what it is.”
Philon offered his practised warm smile at the gathering. “Today’s meeting ends here. Bring a friend tomorrow.”
Some briefly shared their thoughts before leaving, but Sali lingered behind, only approaching when others left.
“Teacher,” she reached out and coyly touched his arm while gazing at his face with adoring green eyes. Philon resisted the urge to pull away. This type of obvious lustful interest sparked irritation in him without fail.
I am patient. I treat these lambs with kindness and gentleness.
“Do you have another question?”
At Philon’s flat question, she shook her head and dropped her gaze. “I want to thank you for coming to our town and sharing your knowledge. It has been a year. Perhaps, do you…” her voice faded as more colour stained her cheeks.
The line of Philon’s patience threatened to snap as he looked from the spot she touched to her face. She was pretty. Sixteen or seventeen. Very naive from what he could tell, and it was clear she didn’t believe a word of his message; it was impossible not to recognise an Athena devotee.
He gently pulled his arm from her touch while offering another smile. “I need to see Elder Theologos. He just returned from a long journey. Can you hold your question for tomorrow's symposium?”
“T… thank you, teacher,” she mumbled. Then she stood on her toes, pressed a quick kiss on his cheek and fled.
"Ha. The bold thing." Philon coldly blinked after her as he suppressed his rising indignation. No need to waste emotions. Readjusting the folds of his garment, he headed for Theologos' study. Though it was merely a year since he came to Aitos, he was already restless to act. Anything would be an acceptable excuse at this point.
Finally, he made it to the study. It was a chaotic mix of battered tomes, scrolls, tablets, and useless relics scattered about; at the centre was a frazzled mid-forties man hunched over his desk and mumbling as he peered at a stone slab through an observation glass.
“Welcome back, elder.” Philon offered a flawless bow before settling in the empty seat across his desk.
Theologos looked up, exposing a bushy happy face and bright excited eyes. “Philon! I came upon a magnificent find.”
“Shouldn’t you have gone home first?” Philon’s brow bunched in concern. “It’s been four months, elder. Your wife and son—”
“Never mind it.” He waved dismissively. “You see…” His voice reduced to a whisper as he leaned closer and cautiously glanced around. “Nyx is a lie.”
“What?” Philon drew back and warily observed the elder. “How can you speak such words?”
Theologos guffawed, his unkempt beard shaking with the action. “I know. Shocking. But look at this.” He pushed the slab across the desk and passed Philon the observation glass. “Look.”
Philon brought the glass to the stone and read the lines in tiny Greek letters. “Where did you find this?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“At a cave. Do you know there are smaller islands near Sapedon?”
Philon’s brow climbed up. Now, that was the true surprise. How had Theologos crossed the sea and neared Sapedon? The elder was wealthy but not wealthy enough to safely attempt that. Did a deity help?
“At first, I was in disbelief, but the more I read the lines, strange visions came to me in my sleep,” Theologos chatted on excitedly. “It says here that Nyx is not the mother. Do you see?”
“I see.” Philon carefully placed the magnifying glass beside the slab and flatly observed Theologos.
“It says something about a monolith,” Theologos eagerly continued. “I think I saw the monolith in one of my dreams.”
Philon’s brow twitched.
“And I think—” Theologos flinched. “Your face… why is your face like that?”
“My face? How is my face?” Philon touched his face, genuinely curious. “Hmmm.” He must have slipped and let his true feelings show—his first mistake in one year. Irritation blasted through him and he loved it.
Intense feelings are the best feelings.
“I was right to come to this town.” Relaxing into his seat, Philon released his mortal ruse with a drawn-out sigh and lazily blinked at the ceiling. “Something about specks. Even with aether in the palm of my hand,” he stretched his hand as if reaching for something unseen, “even with fine control of aether, a speck in the eye still causes discomfort.” He scowled. “I hate discomfort.”
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“W-who are you?”
“Who am I?” Philon tapped a finger against the arm of his chair as his hooded gaze slid to the trembling man. “I am Philon, have you forgotten?”
They held each other’s gaze for a moment before Theologos sprung to his feet and dashed to the door. With a single swish of Philon’s finger, it banged shut.
“Sit. Down. Mortal.”
Theologos cried out as a shadow snatched and planted him in his seat. Philon increased the pressure of the grip, squeezing until the mortal's eyes bulged.
“My instinct.” As Philon stood, the air around him shifted like a mirage. “All through the centuries—even millenniums—it has never failed me. A year of keeping my desires in check,” his real face flashed then vanished with a ripple, “months of parroting your lies until my jaws hurt. Months of watching that supple wife of yours and forcing myself to remember patience. I was good to you, Theologos—a loyal dog when you were away.”
Philon looked at Theologos and was rewarded. That expression, the absolute bleeding horror on his face. The refreshing way his pupil shook within the white of his eyes as realisation sliced through disbelief.
“You… you are one of them.”
“Am I?” Philon cocked his head. “Who am I one of, you SPECK!”
One of the luminescent orbs flew from the ceiling and shattered inches from Theologos’ head. A piece nicked the whimpering fool across the cheek. Red seeped out.
Philon stopped next to him and peered down. “You’re a marvellous teacher, Theologos. That trusting expressive face taught me a lot. I treasured you.”
“Stay… stay away from me.”
The way he trembled and that look of horrified disbelief on his face. The corner of Philon’s lips kicked up; his first genuine smile in a year.
“That you found the courage to speak is admirable.” Philon held his hands at his back as he observed him. “I have seen your shaven face. A decent appearance. Do you think your wife would know if I took your face? And your son? I never tire of sharing my blood.”
Theologos sobbed. Philon could only blink at the display. Tears were the one thing he couldn’t force, and they had never moved him.
“Now you shed tears? Where is that bold tongue that railed against deities, calling us usurpers? You said you saw visions. Your own words have damned you, teacher.” Philon tutted as he raised a hand in readiness to strike.
Theologos squeezed his eyes shut, face pale and wet with even more tears. “Please… I plead for mercy.”
“Ah.” Philon sighed and withdrew his hand. “Your plea has moved me.”
“It has?” Theologos cracked his eyes open. There was hope there. Happy, passionate and prone to get carried away by curiosity. That was Theologos.
Philon suppressed a chuckle at the sight of his imploring gaze. “Teacher, bow and sincerely worship me. I promise to show mercy if my heart stirs.”
Philon withdrew the aether shadow holding him in place. “Go on,” he said gently. “Show me your sincerity.”
More trembling and sobbing as he collapsed to his knees and pressed his head to the ground. “Forgive this foolish mortal.”
“Speaking of a monolith. Spreading lies. Abandoning your family to pursue more lies. Come on, Theologos, you can do better. Show me your sincerity.” Philon glared at his bowed head.
“I REPENT,” Theologos shouted as he raised clasped shaky hands. “Please, show this mortal mercy. Please.”
Philon blinked at the shivering mortal. “Unfortunately, I am not moved. Let’s play a game instead.”
Theologos lifted horrified eyes and pressed both palms in supplication. “I swear, with all the sincerity in my heart, I swear that I am sorry.”
“The game is simple,” Philon continued. “If you correctly guess my name, I shall let you go.”
“Ah…” His face fell to a delightful mix of shock, disbelief and resignation.
“Let’s go over the rules. If you guess wrong three times, I will seek out your wife. Do you know? It's the ones that do not desire me I take.”
The change on Theologos’ face was an unexpected heady treat. Virulent rage. The fool even dared to glare at him.
Philon grabbed him by the beard and gave him a fierce backhand. A tooth flew out. “Control those insolent eyes before I pluck them out.”
He groaned as he turned away.
“Now guess.” Philon released him and closed his fist over strands of the mortal’s hair. “What’s my name?”
Blood spilled past his lips. “C-Chronos?”
Philon threw back his head and laughed. “Let me rupture that small mortal mind of yours. There is no god called Chronos, so you are woefully wrong.” he grabbed Theologos’ ankle and touched the ground next to his foot. “How about a hint?”
“Please—”
“Split.” The earth opened like a hungry mouth. Philon shoved the foot in. “Seal.” The ground returned to its former state, only this time, a bleeding stump remained where a foot should be.
Philon blinked at the spreading blood before shifting his focus to Theologos’s face. His howls of pain were a hum in the background, but his expression… twisted with pain. In a euphoric daze, Philon reached for the mortal's face, smearing it with blood.
“It’s returning… the thrill is returning.” Philon moved to the other foot. “Try again, mortal. You can do this. Who am I? What’s my name?”
Theologos stared at his footless leg with disbelieving eyes. “Have mercy.”
“Wrong answer. Split. Seal.”
Philon drank in the mortal’s reaction. The way Theologos’ eyes grew unfocused and that drawn-out groan. All his vibrant expressions.
More. I want more reactions.
“Remember what I said about your wife?” Philon straightened and leaned against the lip of the desk. “Despite the force of nature this face is, she resisted my charms. But,” he raised a bloody finger, “if you fail the next guess, I shall have your face and go to her. Do you understand what I am saying? How does that make you feel?”
Theologos sobbed.
Philon made a face at the disappointing reaction. Maybe if he told him what he intended to do to this town before the sun sets.
“Poseidon?”
Poseidon groaned. That voice. He would recognise it anywhere. “You're interrupting.”
“Am I?” Athena chuckled as she looked from the weeping mortal to Poseidon. She did a double-take and flashed to his side.
“How beautiful.” She grabbed Poseidon’s face and moved it from side to side. “Where did you find him? He’s gorgeous.”
Poseidon laughed, his irritation at her interruption vanishing. “He was some wandering priest of a dead religion.” His smile died when he recalled what she had interrupted. “Why are you here?”
Sighing, Athena dropped her hands. “You heard of Phorcys?”
“That fool?” Poseidon made a face then perked up with a smile. “How’s his wife?”
Athena clicked her tongue and shook her head. “You and your phases.” She strolled over to the desk. “Phorcys broke his oath and suffered for it.”
“I heard.”
“Do you recall your duty?” She picked up the stone slab and observed it.
Poseidon frowned. “I have a functioning mind. Do not remind me of what I already know.”
“With you, I worry sometimes.” She gave the mortal a pointed look. “Anyway, now that Phorcys is away, we have a rare chance to meet his child.”
Poseidon’s frown deepened. “But wasn’t the plan to visit your little temple and have the chit when she’s of birthing age?”
“Something is not right; I can feel it.” A thoughtful look clouded Athena’s face. “Phorcys isn’t an idiot. If he broke his oath, there must be a reason.”
“So?” Poseidon shrugged. “Simply do your part.”
“Aren’t you curious?” Athena touched her chin as she shifted the slab this way and that. “What the child looks like, how mouldable she is, the look on that hag’s face when she sees how powerless she is against the flow of fate?”
“Hag? What does Phorcydes have to do with this?”
“My thoughts exactly. Right now, the child is in her custody.”
Poseidon considered this new information. Phorcys and his sister have been a pain since the beginning. The child was supposed to be an Athena devotee; coming under the influence of Phorcydes could ruin the plan. The hag was tricky to deal with, and Athena, for all her revered wit, may find herself stumbling; stumbling meant attracting Zeus’ reprimand.
“You’re Poseidon?”
Poseidon frowned down at Theologos, suddenly remembering his existence.
“That’s cheating, teacher.” Poseidon glared at the mortal. “And you’ll die for that.”
“No! I didn’t say that as an answer. I didn’t—”
“Drain,” Poseidon said dismissively. The mortal crumbled to ash mid-scream.
At the same moment, Poseidon's face rippled and shifted to Theologos’. The only difference was being a finger shorter; as for personality, he had observed the mortal long enough to safely emulate him.
“What’s her name?” Poseidon asked as he disrobed and shrugged on Theologos’ pallium.
Athena continued observing the slab with a frown. “Whose name?”
Poseidon paused on his way to the door. “Phorcys’ brat.”
“Medusa,” Athena replied offhandedly.
“Medusa, huh?” Poseidon tasted the name and nodded. “I quite like the sound. Fine, I’ll come with you.”
As Athena pocketed the slab, her expression turned serious. Its content must have caused concern, but that was her burden. Poseidon was never one to dance for Zeus’ favour. The ancient fox was impossible to please, anyway.
Poseidon pushed the door open with fanfare and allowed a big anticipatory grin. “Say, before we leave, how about a quick stop?”
1) Athena's Temple
2) Tartarus
3) Olympus
Until next Saturday.
Did you suspect Philon was a god before his slip?
