Icarus and The Suns

Browser lacks capabilities required to play.

Upgrade or switch to another browser.

Loading…

by Cerulean Square

[[Credits]] [[Profile]] [[Characters]] [[Codex]]

!$name $surname !!!The halfling deity Domain: <<if $mum is "Peitho">>Charisma, inherited from your mother<<elseif $mum is "Asteria">>Magic, inherited from your mother<<elseif $mum is "Bia">>Strength, inherited from your mother<<elseif $mum is "Nike">>Speed, inherited from your mother <<elseif $mum is "Metis">>Intellect, inherited from your mother <<else>>Unset<</if>> Gender: $gender Parents: Daedalus Ergane and <<if $mother is true>>$mum<<else>>Unknown<</if>> Other family: <<if $aunt>>Antikleia, <</if>><<if $mum is "Asteria">><<include "Hsib">><<else>><<include "cou">><</if>> <span ID = Pstats><<include "Stats">></span> Appearance:<<if $looks is true>> You have $eyes eyes, $skin skin and your height could be described as $height. Your $Htex $Hcolour hair is $Hlength.<<else>> Not Set<</if>><<if $wings>>You're often seen wearing $Cstyle clothes in $Ccolour colours, usually paired with a <<if $Ccolour is "dark">>pure black<<elseif $Ccolour is "light">>pure white<<elseif $Ccolour is "bright">>golden brown<</if>> toolbelt and a pair of $wings wings.<</if>> <<if $motive is "mother">> Motive: You want to connect with your mother<<elseif $motive is "father">> Motive: You want to redeem your father<<elseif $motive is "cousin">> Motive: You want to save your cousin<<elseif $motive is "moral">> Motive: You want to do the right thing<<elseif $motive is "none">> Motive: You have no particular reason for your actions<<elseif $motive is "adventure">> Motive: You want to experience an adventure<<else>>Motive: Not Set<</if>> <<if $packed>>Inventory: $packed, clothes, Perdix's sweater<<else>>Inventory: Empty<</if>> <center><<link "Return to game" $return>><</link>></center>

<<if $prologue is true>><center>''Icarus and the Suns'' [[☰|menu]]</center><</if>>

!Credits Story: <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/ceruleansquare" target="_blank">Cerulean Square</a> Slider code: <a href="https://hiev-heavy-ind.com/Sample_Code/Sample_Code.html#How%20to%20Use%20Sliders">HiEv</a> Additional macros: <a href="https://github.com/ChapelR/custom-macros-for-sugarcube-2/blob/master/docs/README.md" target="_blank">Chapel</a> Code documentation: <a href="https://twinery.org/cookbook/" target="_blank">Twine Cookbook</a> <center><<link "Return to game" $return>><</link>></center>

!Characters [[Helios Panoptes|Hcodex]] <<if $A is "Apollo">>[[Apollo Agraeus|Acodex]]<<elseif $A is "Apolline">>[[Apolline Agraeus|Acodex]]<<else>>Apollo/line<</if>> [[Phaethon Eridanos|Pcodex]] <<if $HA is true>>[[Hemera/ Aether|Scodex]]<<else>>[[???|Scodex]]<</if>> [[Circe Panoptes|Ccodex]] [[Your Parents|Parents]] <center><<link "Return to game" $return>><</link>></center>

!Helios Panoptes !!!The old star Domain: the sun Pronouns: he/ they Birthday: 21st December Siblings: Selene and Eos Other family: Pasiphae, Perses and Circe <span ID = Hstats><<include "Helistat">></span> Helios is the golden eyed titan god who legends label as the strongest among immortals. The violence he wrought in history's greatest wars was so extreme that some people regard him as a kind of battle god. Yet in recent years they've been quiet. In fact, no news of him has met a mortal ear in the decade since his youngest daughter was born. The worst rumours claim that he's planning a coup against the Olympian gods whom he once aided. Others choose to be optimistic and believe he's disappeared so he can focus on parenthood. Regardless of what the truth is, the fact remains that there isn't a soul alive who isn't just a little bit afraid of them. In terms of appearance, Helios looks as intimidating as you'd expect, given their reputation. They're tall, broad and angular, every inch of their tan skin covered in inked designs. His most noteworthy tattoo sits upon his left cheek at the highest point of his cheekbone. It depicts a small hawk, likely in reference to Circe's name. His hair is straight and blond, long enough to graze his shoulders when it isn't tied up, and his eyes are bright gold in colour. [[Back|Characters]]

!Phaethon Eridanos !!!The ever burning Domain:<<if $Pbackstory is true>> the river Phlegethon <<else>> ???<</if>> Pronouns: he/ him Birthday: 20th June Siblings: none Other family: nope <span ID = Pstats><<include "Phaestat">></span> Your best friend of five years, who you first met after he broke into your tower prison. He's playful, teasing and way too inclined towards trouble making, all while managing to be more mysterious than even your father. There's no question that he isn't human - though he claims he used to be. Try as you might, you can't get him to admit more than that. Yet, for all his secrets, there is no other person that you trust as much as him. It's only because you've known Phaethon for so long that you're no longer shocked by his appearance. And it really is shocking with his warm grey skin, yellow scars, and glowing blue eyes. Not to mention his scleras which are black instead of the normal white. Stanger still is his hair. Its mid-length, shaved on the sides, with the rest seeming to be comprised entirely of flame. The only thing about him that might be described as ordinary is his height, which is about average. It's hard to tell exactly what Phaethon is but you're pretty sure he's secretly a god. [[Back|Characters]]

<<if $HA is true>>!Hemera/ Aether !!!The light that follows Domain: the sun, the sky and the day itself Pronouns: any Siblings: none Other family: none <span ID = Sstats><<include "HAstat">></span> Hemera and Aether, who once were husband and wife, are now a singular entity, a living consciousness more than a person. You see them in your dreams. Or perhaps see is too strong of a word. You've never seen her, not with your own eyes. But every night you can feel his presence in your mind. This stranger -- this god, for what else could he be -- they haunt you like a summer heat. She seems to believe there's a greater purpose in store for you. [[Back|Characters]] <<else>> !???? !!!The light that follows Domain: the sun? Pronouns: any Siblings: who knows Other family: unsure <span ID = Sstats><<include "HAstat">></span> You see them in your dreams. Or perhaps see is too strong of a word. You've never seen her, not with your own eyes. But every night you can feel his presence in our mind. This stranger -- this god, for what else could he be -- they haunt you like a summer heat. You don't even know her name. [[Back|Characters]] <</if>>

!Circe Panoptes !!!The witch kid Domain: magic Pronouns: she/ they Siblings: Pasiphae, Perses Other family: Helios <span ID = Cstats><<include "Circstat">></span> Circe is Helios' youngest child, a strange and enigmatic ten-year-old girl. Despite her diminutive age, she has wisdom, talent and ambition that outshines that of most adults. In particular, she's a brilliant magic-user, better than her father, maybe even as good as the likes of Hekate and Asteria. Rumour has it that she can even talk to the arcane energy that she commands but you're not sure if you're quite ready to believe something that extreme. [[Back|Characters]]

!Daedalus Ergane and $mum !!!The parents <span ID = PARstats><<include "Parstat">></span> A genius inventor, artist and keeper of secrets, Daedalus is many things but if you were to ask him, the first and most important thing he'd call himself is your father. Yet, in defiance of his paternal role, you know very little about his past. When you were little, the pair of you suddenly moved from Seidon to Knossos, for reasons he never explained. Even years later, he's never told you a thing. Yet, elusive as he is, you'd never doubt that he loves you. <<if $Dforgive is "yes">>You forgive your father<<elseif $Dforgive is "no">>You don't forgive your father<</if>> Your mother is equally elusive. She is a minor goddess<<if $mum is "Peitho">> named Peitho who rules over ideas of charisma.<<elseif $mum is "Asteria">> named Asteria who rules over ideas of magic.<<elseif $mum is "Bia">> named Bia who rules over ideas of strength.<<elseif $mum is "Nike">> named Nike who rules over ideas of speed<<elseif $mum is "Metis">> named Metis who rules over ideas of charisma<<else>>.<</if>> You've never met her, knowing her only through the stories, myths and rumours that circulate about her. Perhaps one day the pair of you will be close. [[Back|Characters]]

<<if $A is "Apollo">>!Apollo Agraeus !!!The brightest sun Domain: the sun, music and medicine Pronouns: he/ him Birthday: 7th May Siblings: Artemis Other family: all his sister's girlfriends? <span ID = Astats><<include "Apolstat">></span> Artist, musician, doctor – Apollo seems to go through professions as quickly as he adds exes to his list of past lovers. It's hard to say what's more well known: his famous well of skills or his infamous series of failed romances. It seems almost contradictory that someone so talented and clever would become such a heartbreaker, especially so publically, but it seems this god relishes in the attention. At the very least, he wears his fame with shamelessness and pride -- not afraid of the rumours that circulate. Yet you can't help but wonder if they bother him at all beneath his flippant exterior. More than that, you wonder how much of it is even true. What can't be debated are the stories of his beauty. Apollo is stunning, tall and dark skinned with orange eyes that catch the sun like a precious jewel -- amber, jasper and carnelian. His hair always seemed to be freshly styled in his go-to style of canerow braids. Wooden beads adorn the end of every perfect plait, each one painted the same white colour as the thick eyeliner he wears. His closet is also immaculate. The god is never underdressed, every outfit being flattering in a way that's elaborately feminine but still functional. [[Back|Characters]] <<elseif $A is "Apolline">>!Apolline Agraeus !!!The brightest sun Domain: the sun, music and medicine Pronouns: she/ her Birthday: 7th May Siblings: Artemis Other family: all her sister's girlfriends? <span ID = Astats><<include "Apolstat">></span> Artist, musician, doctor – Apolline seems to go through professions as quickly as she adds exes to her list of past lovers. It's hard to say what's more well known: her famous well of skills or her infamous series of failed romances. It seems almost contradictory that someone so talented and clever would become such a heartbreaker, especially so publically, but it seems this goddess relishes in the attention. At the very least, she wears her fame with shamelessness and pride -- not afraid of the rumours that circulate. Yet you can't help but wonder if they bother her at all beneath her flippant exterior. More than that, you wonder how much of it is even true. What can't be debated are the stories of her beauty. Apolline is stunning, tall and dark skinned with orange eyes that catch the sun like a precious jewel -- amber, jasper and carnelian. Her hair always seemed to be freshly styled in her go-to style of fulani braids. Wooden beads adorn the end of every perfect plait, each one painted the same white colour as the thick eyeliner she wears. Her closet is also immaculate. The goddess is never underdressed, every outfit being flattering in a way that's elaborately feminine but still functional. [[Back|Characters]] <</if>>

<<linkreplace "See Relationship Stats">>Closeness: $Hclose% <progress @value="$Hclose" max="100"></progress> Romance:$Hlove% <progress @value="$Hlove" max="100"></progress> <<link"close stats">><<replace #Hstats>><<include "Helistat">><</replace>><</link>><</linkreplace>>

<<linkreplace "See Relationship Stats">>Closeness: $Sclose% <progress @value="$Sclose" max="100"></progress> Romance: $Slove% <progress @value="$Slove" max="100"></progress> <<link"close stats">><<replace #Sstats>><<include "HAstat">><</replace>><</link>><</linkreplace>>

<<linkreplace "See Relationship Stats">>Closeness: $Cclose% <progress @value="$Cclose" max="100"></progress> <<link"close stats">><<replace #Cstats>><<include "Circstat">><</replace>><</link>><</linkreplace>>

<<linkreplace "See Relationship Stats">>Closeness: $Aclose% <progress @value="$Aclose" max="100"></progress> Romance: $Alove% <progress @value="$Alove" max="100"></progress> <<link"close stats">><<replace #Astats>><<include "Apolstat">><</replace>><</link>><</linkreplace>>

<<linkreplace "See Relationship Stats">>Father: $Dclose% <progress @value="$Dclose" max="100"></progress> Mother: $Mclose% <progress @value="$Mclose" max="100"></progress> <<link"close stats">><<replace #Astats>><<include "Apolstat">><</replace>><</link>><</linkreplace>>

!Icarus and The Suns Five years ago you and your father were imprisoned in a tower for a crime he committed against the crown. But, on the eve of your long-awaited escape, an unexpected visitor arrives – your goddess mother, a figure who you've never met before. A shocking request falls from her lips, and suddenly you're travelling across a steampunk world based loosely on ancient Greece, with the help of two and a half sun gods who want to find your missing cousin. And, as if that isn't enough, you're being haunted by an unknown deity that hails you as their chosen hero. Written in British English Demo Updated: 30/08/25 Creator Tumblr: <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/ceruleansquare" target="_blank">Cerulean Square</a> <<link [[Start Game->a]]>> <<set $prologue to true>> <<set $cha to 5>> <<set $spe to 5>> <<set $mag to 5>> <<set $str to 5>> <<set $int to 5>> <<set $Hlove to 1>> <<set $Alove to 1>> <<set $Plove to 5>> <<set $Slove to 5>> <<set $Hclose to 1>> <<set $Aclose to 3>> <<set $Pclose to 30>> <<set $Sclose to 5>> <<set $Cclose to 3>> <<set $Dclose to 35>> <<set $Mclose to 5>> <<set $name to "Name">> <<set $surname to "Unset">> <<set $gender to "Unknown">> <<set $mum to "Mother">> <<set $they to "they"; $them to "them">> <</link>>

!!!Prologue The sun is hot. It's hot and it's bright and its rays are like fingers caressing your skin. They trace the curve of your face across your nose, your chin, then down to your neck, chasing a bead of your sweat as it disappears beneath the collar of the shirt you're wearing to sleep. You've been having this dream for five years now. Ever since you were locked up, you have only known the sun. It follows you even into the night. "Who are you?" You whisper, but the sun doesn't reply. Its light has returned to your face, holding you quietly. You know from experience that it won't let you go, content to cling to you in peace until you wake up. Regardless, you press on and ask one more question: <<link [[Are you Apollo|b]]>> <<set $A to "Apollo"; $Agender to "male"; $Aperson to "man"; $he to "he"; $him to "him"; $himself to "himself"; $hisHer to "his"; $He to "He"; $Him to "Him"; $HisHer to "His">> <</link>> <<link [[Are you Apolline|b]]>> <<set $A to "Apolline"; $Agender to "female"; $Aperson to "woman"; $he to "she"; $him to "her"; $himself to "herself"; $hisHer to "her"; $He to "She"; $Him to "Her"; $HisHer to "Her">> <</link>>

<<linkreplace "See Your Skills">>''Charisma:'' $cha <progress @value="$cha" max="100"></progress> ''Speed:'' $spe <progress @value="$spe" max="100"></progress> ''Magic:'' $mag <progress @value="$mag" max="100"></progress> ''Strength:'' $str <progress @value="$str" max="100"></progress> ''Intelligence:'' $int <progress @value="$int" max="100"></progress> <<link"close stats">><<replace #Pstats>><<include "Stats">><</replace>><</link>><</linkreplace>>

<<linkreplace "See Relationship Stats">>Closeness: $Pclose% <progress @value="$Pclose" max="100"></progress> Romance: $Plove% <progress @value="$Plove" max="100"></progress> <<link"close stats">><<replace #Pstats>><<include "Phaestat">><</replace>><</link>><</linkreplace>>

<<if $cousin is true>> Hekate and Perdix<<else>>Hekate<</if>>

<<if $cousin is true>> perdix <<else>>none<</if>>

The sun doesn't reply. Part of you knew it wouldn't. It has never spoken to you before, not once during the time it's spent following you into your dreams. You don't even know if it //can// speak. After all, stars do not have mouths. That knowledge doesn't stop you from asking one more thing. "If you aren't $A, does that mean you're Helios?" Silence is your only answer. It doesn't surprise nor bother you at all, especially given how obvious the answer to that question is. There's no way it was going to be yes. Your mother may be a goddess, but you certainly aren't important enough for the likes of Helios to follow around. He's far to great a god -- too powerful and too busy for someone like you. It's far easier to imagine the sun in your dream is $A. From what you've heard, it wouldn't be out of character if $he spent half a decade sneaking into your dreams in some strange attempt at flirtation. You know $he's certainly done stranger things in the past. You hope it's $him. $A might be a heartbreaker, but Helios comes with bloody history. Before your imprisonment, you even knew some people who saw him as a war god. "I miss them." You say, and while you receive no reply, you aren't upset. At this point, you're just talking for the sake of hearing something that isn't the constant sweet buzzing of the heat enveloping you. [[Its been five years since you were locked up.->c]]

"Did I ever tell you why me and my father were exiled?" You continue to speak, “It was pretty uneventful, all things considered.” The sun presses its warmth even closer to you as if to say, “keep talking; I’m listening.” The action startles you into silence. It's never responded to you like that before. Your hesitation is answered by a searing ray of light that brushes across your face to thumb at your lips as if it can pry your story out of your mouth. The heat of it sears like food eaten straight from a hot pan -- urgent, desperate. “Okay,” you relent, voice hushed from lingering shock, “I’ll tell you what happened.” You sit down, and the light follows you, settling like a blanket around your shoulders. “Before we were imprisoned, my father and I used to live with King Minos in his palace. We were treated like royalty there, our every whim attended to. It was incredible. We had our own rooms, bathrooms, and even our own kitchen, though we never had to use it. But the best part of the palace was the workshop that was installed for my father.” That workshop truly was the star of your home. It was bigger than both your bedroom and your father’s combined, made of exposed brick and overrun with copper pipes that supplied everything from water to acid and even wine. Every surface was littered with tools or blueprints or artworks or little robotic mechanisms. When you were little, your father would sit you down on one of his tables, often having to move some of the clutter to the floor to make space, then show you whatever he was working on. You'd watch him weave wires and gears together with metals, woods and glass until, as though by magic, he created some grand new invention. Your childhood is coloured by oils and grease. “My father, Daedalus, was incredible. Did you know he’s the only artist Minos ever commissioned?" Indeed, when you and your dad first moved to the kingdom of Knossos, Minos had him build an incredible humanoid machine that sits on one of the routes to his palace. The thing was a marvel -- anatomically correct down to the finest detail. The way it moved was incredible too. It would stand and wave and bow at visiting tourists in slow and even motion. That kind of steady movement was particularly impressive because the machine was huge, taller than your father by more than a few inches. <<link "You were the only person you knew who could match it in height (you are very tall)" "d">> <<set $height to "very tall">> <</link>> <<link "You're also taller than Daedalus (you are tall)" "d" >> <<set $height to "tall">> <</link>> <<link "Like your father, you used to look up to meet eyes with the automata (you are average in height)" "d" >> <<set $height to "average">> <</link>> <<link "You're shorter than both the automata and your father (you are short)" "d" >> <<set $height to "short">> <</link>> <<link "It's almost comical how much the automata loomed above you (you are very short)" "d" >> <<set $height to "very short">> <</link>> <<set $all to "0">>

<<if $height is "very tall">>Your height wasn't the only thing the machine resembled you in. Rather, its every feature was built to imitate yours. <<else>>Your height was the only thing the machine didn't have in common with you. Every other feature it had was built to imitate yours. <</if>>Daedalus did that intentionally, choosing to model its design on your appearance. Something about him needing his new invention to match his greatest creation. Sappy reasoning aside, the resemblence between you and the machine was so perfect that you're certain its still identical to you now, even years after it was built.<<if $Lset is true>> After all, its $eyes eyes can't have magically changed colour and, unless the paint has faded, its wooden body should still be a similar hue to your $skin skin. Like you, it had $Hcolour hair and, while it no longer matches your current $Hlength style, its $Htex texture is still a direct parallel.<<else>> [[After all, it looked like...|Body]]<</if>> <span id= looks> <<if $all is 2>> <<link "Next">><<replace "#looks">> Perhaps it speaks ill of your character but you used to find it beautiful. Across the course of your life, you've watched your father create everything from gorgeous swirling artworks to hyper-efficient heavy machinery but nothing could match your robotic twin in its greatness. Passing it whenever you went into town would fill you with a huge surge of pride, especially when people recognised you as its inspiration. Once, a stranger even had you pose beside it to take a selfie with them. Its therefore no surprise that the machine is the very thing that secured your father's place as [[the world's greatest inventor.|f]] <</replace>><</link>> <<link "Reset Appearance" "d">><<set $Lset to "false">><<set $all to "0">><</link>> <<else>>...<</if>> </span>

//What colour is your skin?// <<listbox "$skin" autoselect>> <<option "pale">> <<option "fair">> <<option "olive">> <<option "tan">> <<option "bronze">> <<option "brown">> <<option "dark">> <</listbox>> //What colour are your eyes?// <span id= "eye"><<listbox "$eyes" autoselect>> <<option "grey">> <<option "blue">> <<option "green">> <<option "hazel">> <<option "brown">> <<option "black">> <</listbox>></span> <<linkappend "Imput your own eye colour">> (lowercase please):<<replace "#eye">><</replace>> <<textbox "$eyes" "black">> <</linkappend>> //What colour is your hair?// <span id= "colour"><<listbox "$Hcolour" autoselect>> <<option "black">> <<option "brown">> <<option "ginger">> <<option "blonde">> <<option "white">> <</listbox>></span> <<linkappend "Imput your own hair colour">> (lowercase please): <<replace "#colour">><</replace>> <<textbox "$Hcolour" "auburn">> <</linkappend>> //How long is your hair?// <<listbox "$Hlength" autoselect>> <<option "buzzed">> <<option "short">> <<option "mid-length">> <<option "long">> <<option "very long">> <</listbox>> //Which best describes your hair texture?// <<listbox "$Htex" autoselect>> <<option "straight">> <<option "wavy">> <<option "curly">> <<option "coily">> <</listbox>> <<set $all to 2>> <<set $Lset to true>> [[Next|d]]

After it was built, your home was constantly flooded with mail from all sorts of people. Sponsors, investors, and even fans would send letters. It was your job to organise them, to separate the bills from the notices; the congratulations from the commissions. It was mindless work but you didn't mind. It gave you something to do in your free time, of which you had a lot. Quickly, you gained a knack for guessing a letter's content by the quality of the envelope. Thick ones meant it probably contained a proposed schematic, and the cheap ones often included the ramblings of an admirer. “I'm sure you can imagine my surprise when one of those envelopes contained a letter from the king. We //did// live with him so surely he could have spoken to us directly right?" You pause and take a long breath. "Apparently though, Minos is a coward." The letter he sent that day contained a notice. "You have a week." It said. "After that, you are no longer welcome here." Seven days later, your quarters were invaded by guards who escorted you out of the palace. You and your father were paraded all the way to the coast, where you were shoved into boats. From there you were sailed out to a deserted island and locked up in a tower, never to leave again. "And -" you ask the sun, "do you wanna know what we did to end up here?” There's a ripple in the light that you interpret as agreement. "Nothing. We did nothing. Or rather, I didn't do anything." The words carry a bitterness that you can't manage to fully hide. "Daedalus is the one who did something wrong." <<link "You only had to follow him because you are his son" "g">> <<set $heMC to "he"; $himMC to "him"; $hisHerMC to "his"; $selfMC to "himself"; $child to "son"; $gender to "man">> <</link>> <<link "You only had to follow him because you are his daughter" "g">> <<set $heMC to "she"; $himMC to "her"; $hisHerMC to "her"; $selfMC to "herself"; $child to "daughter"; $gender to "woman">> <</link>> <<link [[You only had to follow him because you're his child|g]]>> <<set $pronoun to "they"; $child to "child"; $gender to "person">> <</link>> <<set $looks to true>>

The sun's light flickers again as if to ask "What did your father do?" "He helped the king's wife cheat on him. Nine months later she gave birth to a monster with the body of a man and the head of a bull. Minos had him design a maze to keep the creature in before he had us both exciled." You shrug half-heartedly, the anger leaving your body as quickly as it came, "I think the creature is called the minotaur but..." You let your words trail off, leaving the sentence unfinished. The implication is clear either way: you wouldn't know. With that thought still running through you mind, [[you wake up.->h]]

The first thing you register, even before opening your eyes, is the feel of sunlight on your skin and for a moment you think you're still dreaming. Then you hear his voice. "Morning, Sunshine." You don't even need to look to know who's broken into your room. "Phaethon." You say his name and roll to your side to face him. The man in question is stood besides your bed, smiling down at you with a soft gleam of mischief in his eyes. Before you can even open your mouth to protest, he drops his weight and collapses into your bed, placing himself right next to you in the sheets. The closeness is familiar. Ever since your first meeting, he's dedicated himself to the invasion of your personal space. From this close you can see the raised texture of the scar on his lip, a bright yellow gash along the cool grey of his skin. "Hi." "What do you want Phae?" He taps you on the nose. "You, of course." His tone is soft, relaxed. There's no pressure in the way he flirts, only the kind of comfort that comes from years of frieandship. You first met Phaethon shortly after you were exiled when he broke into your tower prison. Since then you've come to learn that he's a fool. Why on earth did you expect him to give you a proper answer? "Okay, but for real," Phaethon sits up, "there's a suprise for you." "Can it wait?" Phaethon's troublesome smirk returns and he places his hand on his chest in mock horror. "I could never tell her to wait. She's too scary." "She?" "[[Your mum is here, Sunshine.->mum]]"

Oh. You've always known that you're the $child of a minor deity. Its not something your father ever tried to hide from you. That being said you've never met the goddess that gave birth to you. That goddess is... <<link "Peitho, the goddess of persuasion, seduction and charming speech" "j" >> <<set $mum to "Peitho">>; <<set $cha to Math.clamp($cha + 10, 0, 100)>>; <<set $surname to "Suada">>; <</link>> <<link "Bia, the goddess of power, force and might" "j" >> <<set $mum to "Bia">>; <<set $str to Math.clamp($str + 10, 0, 100)>>; <<set $surname to "Victoria">> <</link>> <<link "Asteria, the goddess of falling stars, dream magic and nighttime divination" "j" >> <<set $mum to "Asteria">>; <<set $mag to Math.clamp($mag + 10, 0, 100)>>; <<set $surname to "Delos">> <</link>> <<link "Nike, the goddess of speed, victory and competition" "j" >> <<set $mum to "Nike">>; <<set $spe to Math.clamp($spe + 10, 0, 100)>>; <<set $surname to "Victoria">> <</link>> <<link "Metis, the goddess of good counsel, planning and wisdom" "j" >> <<set $mum to "Metis">>; <<set $int to Math.clamp($int + 10, 0, 100)>>; <<set $surname to "Ambulia">> <</link>>

Outside of the stories, you know very little about your mother. Deadalus doesn't like giving too much detail away, and you stopped asking when you were a kid. Still, her presence in your life is obvious. For one, you've definately inherited her <<if $mum is "Peitho">>charisma<<elseif $mum is "Bia">>strength<<elseif $mum is "Asteria">>skill with magic<<elseif $mum is "Nike">>increadible speed<<elseif $mum is "Metis">>powerful mind<</if>>. Not to mention the other special abilities you have. However, even without these things people would still recognise you as $mum's child because of your name. Your mother insisited that one of her epithets should be used as your surname and Daedalus had no choice but to agree. Thats why your surname is $surname, not Ergane like your father. At least he got to chose your first name which is... <<link "Icarus, of course" "k" >> <<set $name to "Icarus">> <</link>> [[Something else->Fname]] <<set $mother to true>>

Your first name (capitalised) is: <<textbox "$name" "Icarus">> [[Next ->k]]

Your name is $name $surname. Is that correct? !!!!!Note: your surname will affect the gameplay [[Yes->l]] [[I got my first name wrong->Fname]] <<link "I actually changed my surname to Ergane so I'd match my father" "l" >> <<set $surname to "Ergane">> <</link>> [[ I actually changed my surname to something unique->Sname]]

"$mum is here?" You find yourself asking. Phaethon nods, standing up to pull you out of bed. "I'll let her know you're on your way." He says, then abandons you to get ready for the day. You aren't surprised by his abrupt exit. He has always came and gone with the inconsistent glory of a star on a foggy night. As he leaves, Phaethon flips a switch on the wall, turing on the roof gas lamps. With them joining the light of the sun, your room becomes awash with a glow that illuminates the space. Its significantly smaller than the room you slept in back in Knossos but you've had plenty of time to decorate it with familiar trinkets. Your favourite of these decorations is a miniature automaton, fashioned by your father to resemble a philosopher deep in thought. As you touch it, it whirs to life, turning its brass gears as if pondering the same mystery now plauging you. Why is your mother here? What does she want? The miniature philosopher on the shelf offers no answers, continuing its mechanical contemplation. You turn away from it and begin to inspect your bedchambers properly. The space is cluttered, a testament to the years you've lived in it. Books, scrolls, and parchment sheets are stacked precariously on a wooden desk in one corner. Some are filled with your sketches, others contain notes, half thought-out essays and little written memories. The remaining papers are scholarly tomes with meticulous annotations written in your own hand. Opposite that is your closet filled with your favored style clothes. That style is: <<listbox "$Cstyle" autoselect>> <<option "masculine">> <<option "feminine">> <<option "androgynous">> <</listbox>> and full of <<listbox "$Ccolour" autoselect>> <<option "dark">> <<option "light">> <<option "bright">> <</listbox>> colours. [[You put on an outfit and leave.->m]] <<notify 3000>>Profile Updated<</notify>>

Your surname (capitalised) is: <<textbox "$surname" "Ergane">> //Note: your surname will affect the gameplay// [[select|k]]

Your room is at the top of the tower you're imprisoned in. This floor only has two rooms, yours and your father's, separated by a single hallway. At the end of the hall is a staircase which you walk down to enter the main living space. The room is a cluttered mess but of course it is. With no guests visiting you, there's no need to be overly clean. There's nobody to impress. Nobody other than Phaethon that is, but he's long grown used to the untidiness. You’re pretty sure half of it is his anyway. At the very least, you know some of the blueprints scattered on the sofa belong to him. He’s an inventor like your father. Right now the pair of them are sitting on the seats they've long decided are simply theirs. Phaethon has a spinning toy in his hand that he keeps flicking to rotate in an endless clockwise loop. The motion is thoughtless, being performed without looking. Instead, he watches you with unfiltered curiosity. Most people would look away when they're caught staring but you'd hardly call your best friend average. When his eyes meet yours, he doesn't bother to move them elsewhere. He just smiles, nods his head towards the side, and mouths a single word at you: $mum. You look to where he gestured, and indeed she's there, looking out the window with a vacant kind of intensity. <<if $mum is "Peitho">>[[She turns to look at you.->mPei]]<<elseif $mum is "Asteria">>[[She turns to look at you.->mAst]] <<elseif $mum is "Bia">>[[She turns to look at you.->mBia]]<<elseif $mum is "Nike">>[[She turns to look at you.->mNik]]<<elseif $mum is "Metis">>[[She turns to look at you.->mMet]]<</if>>

Instantly you understand why Phaethon was so impressed by her. She is easily one of the most scary looking people that you've ever seen, not because she has fearsome features but because she is eerily perfect. Her face, for example, is perfectly symmetrical, and her body doesn't bear a single scar or stretch mark. Its easy to see how she gained her title as a beauty goddess when her appearance carries such uncanny radiance. Her only flaw, if you could even call it such, is her height. <<if $height is "very short">>Peitho is tiny, though still slightly taller than you. Yet, somehow, her mere presence demands attention in a way you could never hope to imitate.<<elseif $height is "short">>Like you, Peitho is small in stature. Yet, somehow, her mere presence demands attention in a way you could never hope to imitate.<<else>> Peitho is tiny, yet somehow her mere presence demands attention in a way you could never hope to imitate.<</if>> Its her eyes. They're the same dark blue colour as the deepest violence of the sea, and are framed in lashes so thick that their weight makes them droop. <<if $eyes is "blue">>Though your own eyes are similar in hue, they bare far more resemblence to your father's than Peitho's, being undeniably human in comparison.<<else>>Your $eyes eyes are undeniably human in comparison.<</if>> Still, you can't look away. Phaethon is the one who breaks the silence, apparently no longer able to politely bare the quiet. "$name, this is your mother, $mum." He speaks dryly, knowing he's the one who pointed her out to you in the first place, though his tone shifts to teasing as he adds, "I can see where you got your looks from, Sunshine." As if on autopilot, you tell him to shut up and he laughs, but the sound seems as forced as his attempt at banter. When the sound fades, your father is the one who speaks up. Turning to $mum, he asks the question that's plauged your mind since you were informed of her arrival. "[[Why are you here? ->n]]"

Instantly you understand why Phaethon was so impressed by her. She is easily one of the most scary looking people that you've ever seen, not because she has fearsome features but because she is eerily perfect. Her face, for example, is perfectly symmetrical, and her body doesn't bear a single scar or stretch mark. You could mistake her for a beauty goddess with how her appearance carries such uncanny radiance. Not to mention her height. <<if $height is "very tall">>Asteria is one of the very few people you've met that can actually meet eyes with you. In fact, with her heeled boots, she might actully be slightly taller than you right now.<<elseif $height is "tall">>Asteria is among the few people you've met that are taller than you,and her heeled boots only add to that fact.<<else>>Asteria is tall, impossibly so, and her heeled boots only give her more inches over everyone else in the room.<</if>> Yet her most intimidating feature is without a doubt her eyes. They're the same glacial grey colour as ancient permafrost, stoic and unflinching. <<if $eyes is "grey">>Though your own eyes are similar in hue, they bare far more resemblence to your father's than Asteria's, being undeniably human in comparison.<<else>>Your $eyes eyes are undeniably human in comparison.<</if>> Still, you can't look away. Phaethon is the one who breaks the silence, apparently no longer able to politely bare the quiet. "$name, this is your mother, $mum." He speaks dryly, knowing he's the one who pointed her out to you in the first place, though his tone shifts to teasing as he adds, "I can see where you got your looks from, Sunshine." As if on autopilot, you tell him to shut up and he laughs, but the sound seems as forced as his attempt at banter. When the sound fades, your father is the one who speaks up. Turning to $mum, he asks the question that's plauged your mind since you were informed of her arrival. "[[Why are you here? ->n]]"

Instantly you understand why Phaethon was so impressed by her. She is easily one of the most scary looking people that you've ever seen, not because she has fearsome features but because she is eerily perfect. Her face, for example, is perfectly symmetrical, and her body doesn't bear a single scar or stretch mark. You could mistake her for a beauty goddess with how her appearance carries such uncanny radiance. Her only flaw, if you could even call it such, is her height. <<if $height is "short">>Bia is tiny, even moreso than you. Yet, her mere presence demands attention in a way you could never hope to imitate.<<elseif $height is "very short">>Like you, Bia is very small in stature. Yet, her mere presence demands attention in a way you could never hope to imitate.<<else>>Bia is tiny, yet her mere presence demands attention in a way you could never hope to imitate.<</if>> It'd be easy to think shes so intimidating because of how well built she is, body thick with muscle, but you blame her eyes. There's a lightless depth to their colour, black as Kaos, the void before creation. <<if $eyes is "black">>Though your own eyes are similar in hue, they bare far more resemblence to your father's than Bia's, being undeniably human in comparison.<<else>>Your $eyes eyes are undeniably human in comparison.<</if>> Still, you can't look away. Phaethon is the one who breaks the silence, apparently no longer able to politely bare the quiet. "$name, this is your mother, $mum." He speaks dryly, knowing he's the one who pointed her out to you in the first place, though his tone shifts to teasing as he adds, "I can see where you got your looks from, Sunshine." As if on autopilot, you tell him to shut up and he laughs, but the sound seems as forced as his attempt at banter. When the sound fades, your father is the one who speaks up. Turning to $mum, he asks the question that's plauged your mind since you were informed of her arrival. "[[Why are you here? ->n]]"

Instantly you understand why Phaethon was so impressed by her. She is easily one of the most scary looking people that you've ever seen, not because she has fearsome features but because she is eerily perfect. Her face, for example, is perfectly symmetrical, and her body doesn't bear a single scar or stretch mark. You could mistake her for a beauty goddess with how her appearance carries such uncanny radiance. Not to mention her height. <<if $height is "very tall">>Nike is only slightly shorter than you, making her the second tallest person in the room.<<elseif $height is "tall">>Nike is around as tall as you, towering above everyone else.<<else>>Nike is tall, moreso than everone else in the room by a significant margin.<</if>> Yet her most intimidating feature is without a doubt her eyes. They're volcanic, all amber and stoney green, golden where the sun meets them. <<if $eyes is "hazel">>Though you also have hazel eyes, they bare far more resemblence to your father's than Nike's, being undeniably human in comparison.<<else>>Your $eyes eyes are undeniably human in comparison.<</if>> Still, you can't look away. Phaethon is the one who breaks the silence, apparently no longer able to politely bare the quiet. "$name, this is your mother, $mum." He speaks dryly, knowing he's the one who pointed her out to you in the first place, though his tone shifts to teasing as he adds, "I can see where you got your looks from, Sunshine." As if on autopilot, you tell him to shut up and he laughs, but the sound seems as forced as his attempt at banter. When the sound fades, your father is the one who speaks up. Turning to $mum, he asks the question that's plauged your mind since you were informed of her arrival. "[[Why are you here? ->n]]"

Instantly you understand why Phaethon was so impressed by her. She is easily one of the most scary looking people that you've ever seen, not because she has fearsome features but because she is eerily perfect. Her face, for example, is perfectly symmetrical, and her body doesn't bear a single scar or stretch mark. You could mistake her for a beauty goddess with how her appearance carries such uncanny radiance. The only thing you might call average about Metis is her height. <<if $height is "very tall">>Her being shorter than you doesn't make her any less intimidating.<<elseif $height is "tall">>Her being shorter than you doesn't make her any less intimidating.<<elseif $height is "average">>Her being around as tall as you doesn't make her any less intimidating.<<else>>Still, she's taller than you and intimidating regardless.<</if>> You blame her eyes. They're the same arbourial colour as ancient evergeens, stoic and resolute. <<if $eyes is "green">>Though your own eyes are similar in hue, they bare far more resemblence to your father's than Metis's, being undeniably human in comparison.<<else>>Your $eyes eyes are undeniably human in comparison.<</if>> Still, you can't look away. Phaethon is the one who breaks the silence, apparently no longer able to politely bare the quiet. "$name, this is your mother, $mum." He speaks dryly, knowing he's the one who pointed her out to you in the first place, though his tone shifts to teasing as he adds, "I can see where you got your looks from, Sunshine." As if on autopilot, you tell him to shut up and he laughs, but the sound seems as forced as his attempt at banter. When the sound fades, your father is the one who speaks up. Turning to $mum, he asks the question that's plauged your mind since you were informed of her arrival [["Why are you here"? ->n]]

Your father’s question goes unanswered and he doesn't bother repeating himself. He’s not the wasteful type and that applies even to his words. Now that he knows he'll be ignored, he's going to stay quiet. It seems that, for the moment, you are the only thing on $mum's mind; the only one she's going to acknoledge. She hasn’t looked away since she first noticed you. "You're $name?" You nod, still processing the sight of her. The resemblance hits you with unexpected force -- you didn’t know you have the same nose. Maybe you could have guessed, given how different the shape is from your father's, but somehow that never crossed your mind. The realisation has you reeling a little. $mum doesn’t seem to notice your awe. If she does, she makes no effort to acknowledge it. "Daedalus tells me you're leaving this place tomorrow." She continues, gesturing at the table where two pairs of mechanical wings sit. "Once you're gone, there's a favour I'd like to ask of you. I don’t trust anyone but my own blood to do it." //A favour...// Those words have your heart stuttering. Is from it panic, confusion or excitement? Phaethon interupts before you can decide. <<if $pronoun is "they">>"Why should they help you? $name owes you nothing." "$name will help for their family," $mum responds coolly. "If not for me, then for their cousin.”<<else>>"Why should $heMC help you? $name owes you nothing." "$name will help for $hisHerMC family," $mum responds coolly. "If not for me, then for $hisHerMC cousin.” <</if>> For a brief, disorienting moment, you think your mother must have misspoken, but she doesn’t correct herself. "Cousin?" You repeat. "I have no family besides you and father." $mum's face shifts, the once unreadable calm of her expression being replaced with indignant anger. You can't help but pity your father as she turns to him, levelling him with a cool-eyed stare. She doesn't speak immediately, but when she does her voice is laced with a disappointment that sharpens into further fury. "[[You kept it a secret.->o]]"

The acusation isn't a question. It's a weapon and it hits your father with a violence that widens his eyes into a look that sits somewhere between shock, dread and ungodly terror. Regardless of what it is, the weight of it has Daedalus taking a stumbling step backwards. He looks at you, then back to your mother, before silently turning his head up to stare at the roof. It's clear that he’s uncomfortable -- he never did like confrontation. What’s more jarring is his obvious guilt. Immediately, you know that whatever your father's hiding is serious. That terrifies you. Even Phaethon, who’s always quick to interject, has been made quiet by your father’s visible shame. Your mother carries no likewise reluctance. “Well?” She prompts, and your father lets out a long, shaking sigh. ~~"My crimes have caught up with me and I can no longer outrun them."~~ His words are clearly unintended for your ears, but the quiet of the room is too stark to subdue them. You hear them clearly and they send a chill down your spine. “What crimes?” You demand. Your father falters. For a moment surprise appears on his face but it vanishes just as fast. Guilt returns to his eyes but now it's paired with a criminal’s resolve to confess. He steels himself, then [[begins to speak.|o.1]] <<set $cousin to true>>

He tells you about his life when you were little, too young to remember anything about it. You lived in Seidon - a noble kingdom, not far from Knossos - where Daedalus worked as a professor. He taught mechanics of course, and was so well known for it that he was considered a minor celebrity. In fact, it was his fame and renown which attracted your mother to him originally. "It wasn't just paying students who I taught." He explains, his voice growing weaker. "I also taught a child named Perdix." "$name's cousin?" Phaethon guesses and your father nods in confirmation. "He was my sister's son, only fifteen years old when he became my student... I didn't -- My feelings towards him were complicated. I need you to understand that okay?" Daedalus walks towards you, hands outstretched. “Promise me you’ll understand.” He repeats. Tears have begun to pool in the corners of his eyes. You’ve never seen him look so remorseful. It reminds you of the soldiers you’d sometimes see back in Knossos. When they came home, warfare still staining their skin, they’d find their families and beg or sob or simply shake the way your father is now. The comparison sickens you, but you have to know what he means. Yet when you ask, your father doesn't reply. [[Your mother takes it upon herself to do so for him.->p]]

<center><<fadein 3s>>"[[Your father threw Perdix off a cliff.->1.a]]"<</fadein>></center>

!!!Act one, Scene one Once upon a time, there was a little boy named Perdix. The boy looked a lot like how you do. Perhaps if you were the same age the pair of you might have passed as twins. He had $Hcolour hair like you, the same $skin skin and $eyes eyes too. And, as a final similarity between you both, Perdix was forever held in your father's affection. His adorable nephew, the cleverest child he ever met. "It often felt as though there was no skill too difficult for him to learn." Your father explains. "I hated that fact as much as I loved him for it." "So you tried to kill him?" "[[It didn't work.|1.b]]"

Pedix was small for his age, looking ten at oldest by the age of fifteen. It made it easy for Dadalus to cradle his body to his chest and carry him away. The boy didn't even fight. He trusted your father implicitly. Even when gravity snatched him from the air he was flung into, he didn't cry nor scream or scratch at the winds for purchase. He fell in silence. Down and down he went but... [[He never hit the ground.|1.c]]

"What do you mean?" You ask, "How didn't he fall." "He flew." Before Daedalus' very eyes, Pedix's little body shrank ever smaller, his face contorting, twisting into a tiny, beaked form with yellow orange eyes. Feathers grew from his flesh and wings sprouted from his back. "By will of the gods Perdix was transformed into a partridge. I don't know where he went after that, only that it was somewhere far away." Daedalus sighs. "After that we couldn't stay in Seidon so I packed up our home, gathered you up and ran away to Knossos." "And you fucked things up there too." Your mother interjects, voice smooth and imperial. As she speaks, she strides over to you and places a delicate hand upon your shoulder. Light as it is, it feels heavy where it rests. "$mum..." You begin but you're quickly cut off. "I want you to find Perdix for me, $name. That is why I came here." [[Next|1.d]]

[[The day passes slow after that.|1.e]]

Eventually everyone vacates the living room, as though evacuating from the scene of a creeping disaster. Your mother was the first to go, disappearing in a flash of light, but not before informing you that she'll be back before midnight. After that your father went away. Up the stairs he crept, choosing to wait in his room until she returns. Phaethon was the last to leave. For a moment he floundered, silently opening and closing his mouth a few times -- trying to find his words but failing terribly -- then he gave up and simply placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it in an attempt at comfort. It's a familiar awkwardness. Phaethon is useless with sensitive topics; he thrives in chaos, not in vulnerability. It's why you have no knowledge of his past, of the origin of his scars or the reason why his blue eyes glow. He said he was human once. You never managed to glean more than that. "I'll be downstairs." He mutters to you, skipping any kind of condolence entirely. You nod, watching as he gathers up the mechanical wings on the table and descends the tower, presumably heading to the workshop at the very bottom. Then you're alone. A second passes in silence. You're simply standing there, not moving, barely even thinking. You are utterly drained. The effort it takes for you to get to the sofa is immense, and when the overly soft pillows pull you down, they also suck away the last of your energy. With your will all but gone, you have to fight to hold back the sound building up in your throat: <<link [[A scream|1.f]]>> <<set $option to "scream">><</link>> <<link [[A sob|1.f]]>> <<set $option to "sob">><</link>> <<link [[A sigh|1.f]]>> <<set $option to "sigh">><</link>>

<<if $option is "scream">>You want to yell and cry and maybe break something, a sign of the restless tension building up in you. The feeling is heavy and nameless; it sits somewhere between anger and shock. Anger for your cousin, whom you were too young to save, let alone protect. Shock that your father, a man you’ve only ever known as kind and gentle, could do something so cruel. But that's not quite it either. You’re also sad. Just sad. It feels almost vindictive to admit, but part of you wishes your mother visited because she wanted to meet you, not to recruit you. Do you really mean that little to her? <<elseif $option is "sob">>You want to cry and it's hard to place exactly why, the cause sitting somewhere between grief and shock. Grief for your cousin, whom you hold no memory of. Shock that your father, a man you’ve only ever known as kind and gentle, could do something so cruel. But that's not quite it either. You’re also sad. Just sad. It feels almost childish to admit, but part of you wishes your mother visited because she wanted to meet you, not to recruit you. Do you really mean that little to her? <<elseif $option is "sigh">>In the end, a gasp does end up leaving you, shaking through a halting breath. You want everything to stop and it's hard to place exactly why. The feeling is mostly shock but there's also grief and a numb kind of disappointment mixed in too. Grief for your cousin, whom you hold no memory of. Disappointment that your father, a man you’ve only ever known as kind and gentle, could do something so cruel. But that's not quite it either. You’re also sad. Just sad. It feels almost ridiculous to admit, but part of you wishes your mother visited because she wanted to meet you, not to recruit you. Do you really mean that little to her?<</if>> When you were little, too young to understand the futility of begging, you'd ask your father to tell you about her. On lucky nights you heard tales of her greatness before bed. Your mother became your lullaby and you learnt to love her for it, even though she wasn't there to do the singing herself. You committed every song to memory in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, you'd find a piece of her in the notes: a whisper of her personality, her values, her interests. You wanted to know her. Clearly, the feeling isn't mutual. And yet, despite your mother's disinterest, you're still going to follow her request. //<<radiobutton "$motive" "mother" autocheck>> You want the chance to connect with her. <<radiobutton "$motive" "father" autocheck>> You want to right the wrongs committed by your father <<radiobutton "$motive" "cousin" autocheck>> You want to save your cousin <<radiobutton "$motive" "adventure" autocheck>> You want the adventure <<radiobutton "$motive" "moral" autocheck>> You want to do the right thing <<radiobutton "$motive" "none" autocheck>> You just want to do it – no real reason// With your mind made up, you sit up once more. As much as you'd love to sit and mope, you have a prison break due at midnight and you’ve got things to do in the meantime. First and foremost, you need breakfast and, honestly, the thought of eating your feelings sounds pretty good right now. At the very least, it'll give you the energy to get through the next few hours. Your stomach growls as though signalling agreement with your plan and so you head to the kitchen. <<link "Next">> <<if $motive>> <<goto "1.g">><<else>><<notify 3000>>set a motive to progress<</notify>><</if>> <</link>>

As with the living room, the kitchen is cluttered. In a glance, you can spot a half drunk glass of coffee, forgotten next to the remnants of an earlier meal. Plates are beginning to pile up next to the sink and the cutlery drawer had been left open by whoever was last to use it. Yet, for all the mess, there is no actual dirt. The countertops are spotless beneath the assortments – unstained and shining – and both the cupboards and floors have been wiped until gleaming. There's no real need to tidy up <<cycle "$cycle" autoselect>> <<option "so you don't bother with any cleaning">> <<option "but you do so anyway, cleaning everything away">> <</cycle>> before you cook. In the end, you end up making a huge spread rather than a modest breakfast: a feast of both sweets and savouries that you have no intention of finishing alone. As soon as you've eaten enough to satisfy both your hunger and your need for comfort food, you arrange the leftovers on a plate and head upstairs once more. You have a father to confront and, depending on how it goes, snacks can be anything from a peace offering to a bribe. Once more, you make the trek up the tower’s top floor where the bedrooms are, though once at Daedalus’ door, your nerves catch up to you again causing you to hesitate before knocking. In that quiet moment a noise makes its way through the wall, something like a strangled yell followed by quiet sobbing. For a second you just stand there, listening to your father cry. <<link [[Try calling to him through the locked door ->1h.a]]>> <<set $Dclose to Math.clamp($Dclose + 5, 0, 100)>> <</link>> <<link [[Questions can wait; you leave so he might cry in private ->1h.b]]>> <<set $Dclose to Math.clamp($Dclose + 10, 0, 100)>><<set $call to true>> <</link>> <<link [[You abandon your quest for now because his wailing makes you uncomfortable ->1h.b]]>> <<set $Dclose to Math.clamp($Dclose - 5, 0, 100)>> <</link>>

"<<cycle "$dad" autoselect>> <<option "Dad">> <<option "Father">> <<option "Daedalus">> <</cycle>>, are you alright?" You hear no reply so you call to him again, louder this time. "Calm yourself $child," your father yells back, his voice impressively even. You've always admired his cool temperament but right now it only worries you more. You heard how heavy his cries were; there's no way'd believe that he's actually okay. As if hearing that thought, he continues to speak. "I am fine. It's just -" he cuts himself off, "Nevermind. Please leave." “I have questions…” A silent beat passes. “Later.” Daedalus says. “Go pack your room for now, or find some other way to occupy yourself. I’m tired.” <<link [[You follow his instruction and leave ->1h.a1V1]]>> <<set $Dclose to Math.clamp($Dclose + 3, 0, 100)>> <</link>> <<link [[You enter his room against his protests. ->1h.a2]]>> <<set $Dclose to Math.clamp($Dclose - 3, 0, 100)>> <<set $QnA to true>> <</link>>

You make the quick walk to your room, setting the plate you brought on your desk. You’ll question him later. For now, you’ve got a room to pack. You start with your clothes, given that you don’t exactly own many. Into a bag goes an assortment of <<if $Cstyle is "masculine">>shirts, tees and trousers<<elseif $Cstyle is "feminine">>dresses, skirts and blouses<<elseif $Cstyle is "androgynous">> shirts and trousers along with the occasional long skirt or draping robe<</if>> until your closet is near empty. The few remaining articles of clothing are going to be left behind, either because they’re too worn or not suited for the summer weather outside. Gods above… You’re going outside. The thought is almost enough to restore your good mood. Phaethon has been able to come and go because he’s different. Inhuman. The fall from the only openable window in the tower isn’t enough to kill him as it would with you. He can tumble out of it whenever he wants. It took your father years to invent a tool that allows you to follow him. Your eyes turn to your bedroom window. Outside a pair of suns blaze in the sky. After five years of waiting you’ll finally know how it feels to reach that high. [[Next|1.i]]

You know how to pick locks. Phaethon taught you the skill about a year after you met, “just in case you feel like causing trouble”. Well, this certainly counts as trouble. The handle clicks and you let yourself inside the room. The sight that greets you is all at once familiar and alien. Daedalus’ room is identical to yours after all, only he decorates the space with gadgets and experiments as opposed to your beloved trinket collection. You recognise the mess, the toolbox on the desk, the stains in the ground, the prototypes scattered like the rot of autumn across every available surface. In one corner there is a pile of nothing but feathers and wax: early attempts at the wings you’ll don in just a few hours. Yet among the usual clutter there is a wardrobe thrown across the floor. Your father sits upon the broken wreck of it. “I asked you to leave.” His eyes are still wet with tears, face stained with the tracks of salty water. Yet his expression is cold. There is no anger in the way he looks at you – no evidence that he’s upset at your disobedience. He looks empty, sounds it too when he sighs, waving a hand to invite you further inside. “What do you want?” “Answers.” You reply plainly. The simple words make your father's lips twitch, gaining the slightest upward turn. “Answers require questions, $name.” “Will you be honest if I ask?” Daedalus nods and the brief joy on his face fades. “I’m too tired to tell any more lies.” [[Next|questions4dad]]

<<if $call is true>>You want to call out to him, you really do. The words are right at the tip of your tongue: //"<<cycle "$dad" autoselect>> <<option "Dad">> <<option "Father">> <<option "Daedalus">> <</cycle>>, are you alright?"// Empathy makes you swallow the sounds back down before you can utter them. Your father is a calm man, gentle and even, bordering on apathetic at times. He'd hate it if he knew you could hear him crying. And so, as quietly as you can, you make the quick walk to your room, setting the plate you brought on your desk. You’ll question him later. For now, you’ve got a room to pack. <<else>> You could call out to him – the words are right at the tip of your tongue: //"<<cycle "$dad" autoselect>> <<option "Dad">> <<option "Father">> <<option "Daedalus">> <</cycle>>, are you alright?"// Discomfort makes you swallow the sounds back down before you can utter them. Your father is a calm man, gentle and even, bordering on apathetic at times. Perhaps you’re selfish but you hate the sound of him crying because it feels so deeply wrong. The din is a breaking of character that you can’t bring yourself to face. And so, as quietly as you can, you make the quick walk to your room, setting the plate you brought on your desk. You’ll question him later. For now, you’ve got a room to pack.<</if>> You start with your clothes, given that you don’t exactly own many. Into a bag goes an assortment of <<if $Cstyle is "masculine">>shirts, tees and trousers<<elseif $Cstyle is "feminine">>dresses, skirts and blouses<<else>> shirts and trousers along with the occasional long skirt or draping robe<</if>> until your closet is near empty. The few remaining articles of clothing are going to be left behind, either because they’re too worn or not suited for the summer weather outside. Gods above… You’re going outside. The thought is almost enough to restore your good mood. Phaethon has been able to come and go because he’s different. Inhuman. The fall from the only openable window in the tower isn’t enough to kill him as it would with you. He can tumble out of it whenever he wants. It took your father years to invent a tool that allows you to follow him. Your eyes turn to your bedroom window. Outside a pair of suns blaze in the sky. After five years of waiting you’ll finally know how it feels to reach that high. [[Next|1.i]]

It takes you a moment to tear your eyes away from the view and return your gaze to the clothes scattered around you. Everything that's not coming with you ought to be put away but first there’s something you need to investigate. While packing your clothes you slowly revealed an object that had been tucked away like an afterthought in your closet. Before refilling it, you’d like to know what exactly you found. The object turns out to be an old sweater, a tiny thing that's undeniably fitted for a child. You must have brought it with you to Knossos when you first arrived there, then packed it again by accident when preparing for your exile. Its age is obvious, the dark green knit fading and collecting the smell of dust. A bird is embroidered on the front but its thread is fraying. Holding it scares you. It feels almost like it might disintegrate if you don’t put it away soon. Yet, as you place it to the side, something catches your eye. The name written inside the sweater isn't yours. The second you read it a memory comes back to you in a crash that cradles you – a reunion hug. You see a boy with wide eyes and a gap in his teeth sit himself in a slump beside you. He smells like coal, oil and his mother’s perfume. There’s grease on his clothes. “This is called the family line.” He says, pointing at the crease where your thumb connects with your palm. There’s dirt under his nails. His fingers are rough where they make contact with your skin. Suddenly you’re ten years old again, and your cousin is teaching you the palmistry his mother practices. [[Next|1.j]]

Perdix peers closer at the crease he just identified, the family line, then tilts his head back up to face you. “Yours is really deep, $name. That means your connection with your family is even closer. And look –” he places his hand next to yours so that they’re pressed side by side. “– our family lines match.” “Is that a good thing?” Perdix nods. “It means we’ll always find each other.” How could you have forgotten? Though it's been over a decade since you last saw the boy, he was once your dearest friend. [[Next|1.k]]

''What do you ask him?'' <<linkreplace "Why?">>''Why?'' <<if $Q1 is true>>//You know why Daedalus hurt Perdix//<<else>><<link [[Why did you hurt Perdix|1.hurt1]]>><<set $Q1 to true>><</link>><</if>> <<if $Q2 is true>>//You know why Daedalus ran away//<<else>><<link [[Why did you run away|1.run]]>><<set $Q2 to true>><</link>><</if>> <<if $Q3 is true>>//You know why Daedalus didn't tell you the truth//<<else>><<link [[Why didn't you tell me|1.truth]]>><<set $Q3 to true>><</link>><</if>> <</linkreplace>> <<linkreplace "What?">>''What?'' <<if $Q4 is true>>//What the fuck indeed//<<else>><<link [[What the fuck|1.wot]]>><<set $Q4 to true>><</link>><</if>> <<if $Q5 is true>>//You know whats going on with Antikleios//<<else>><<link [[What's the deal with your sister|1.sis]]>><<set $Q5 to true>><</link>><</if>><</linkreplace>> <<if $Q5 is true>>[[You’ve finished with your questions.|1.endConfrontation]]<<else>>Learn who Antikleia is in order to move on<</if>> <<set $QnA to true>>

Of all your questions this is the one that’s got you feeling the most… lost? Confused? Afraid? There’s no answer that will fully soothe your heartache but still, you need to know. “Why did you hurt Perdix?” “I told you already.” Your father isn't looking at you. “Or no… no it wasn’t a real answer was it?” He shifts his position atop the broken wardrobe that he’s sat upon. The wood creaks beneath his weight but he pays it no mind. His mind is elsewhere. His vacant expression reveals that much. And still he won't face you. The avoidance only makes you feel more <<cycle "$option" autoselect>> <<option "lost">> <<option "confused">> <<option "angry">> <<option "upset">> <</cycle>>. “Don’t avoid the question, $dad.” The man sighs. “I’m not.” Slowly, he turns so his body is straight on with your own, though his eyes remain floating in the awkward space besides your head. “I’m not avoiding the question, $name, I’m just thinking.” A minute passes in terse silence before he finally speaks again. “I thought myself to be a god when I was little.” <<link[[Next|1.hurt2]]>><<if $option is "angry">><<set $Dclose to Math.clamp($Dclose - 10, 0, 100)>><</if>><</link>>

His answer is not what you expected – not from your mild mannered father. “I was… proud. I saw my greatness not as a gift but as a sign. Nobody compared to me back then. Even when I was young I was without comparison, without competition. Your mother liked me for my perfection. She wanted some of it herself and so we made you.” He stands on a pair of shaking legs and shuffles his way towards you before placing a gentle palm against the curve of your face. “You look so much like her.” “$dad…” “You were the culmination of both of our ambitions,” he interrupts, “a mix of my mortal godhood and $mum’s true divinity. Perdix ruined your mythology.” A breath leaves you in a gasp. “What do you mean?” “I wasn’t jealous of Perdix because he bettered me. I was jealous out of fear for you. Your mother and I planned to make a jewel of you – we were going to crown my family in your greatness. We – no, I… I couldn’t let him outshine you.” Your father sits back down and makes an awkward gesture, half a shove and half a wave, as though trying to physically push his revelation to the side before you can think too hard about it. “What else do you want to know?” ---- <<include"questions4dad">>

An obvious question but a necessary one. “Why did you run away, and why to Knossos?” You can understand the need to escape but with your father’s true nature – the nature of a liar – revealed, you don’t trust that there's nothing more to it. And yet, when he replies, his answer is exactly as expected. He left Seidon to evade punishment, from the law and from his sister. He chose Knossos as a refuge because it was the easiest place to get to. Only a week after his crime was done, he had gathered you up and you were off, taking a boat across the river that separates the two regions. “I stayed so close home because I hoped I might spot Perdix flying by some day…” His words do little to soothe your ill feelings. ---- <<include"questions4dad">>

You return to your fathers door and stop. There isn’t a single sound from within. Hopefully that's a good sign… Your fist meets the wood once lightly. Then you steel your nerves and knock the damn thing properly. “Come in.” The sight that greets you when you enter is all at once familiar and alien. Daedalus’ room is identical to yours after all, only he decorates the space with gadgets and experiments as opposed to your beloved trinket collection. You recognise the mess, the toolbox on the desk, the stains in the ground, the prototypes scattered like the rot of autumn across every available surface. In one corner there is a pile of nothing but feathers and wax: early attempts at the wings you’ll don in just a few hours. Yet among the usual clutter there is a wardrobe thrown across the floor. Your father sits upon the broken wreck of it. “$name.” His eyes are red but dry, face stained with the tracks of salty water. Yet his expression is cold. There is no emotion in the way he looks at you – no evidence of the guilt he admitted to only a few hours ago. He looks empty, sounds it too when he sighs, waving a hand to invite you further inside. “What do you want?” “Answers.” You reply plainly. The simple words make your father smile. “Answers require questions, you know that.” “Will you be honest if I ask?” Daedalus nods and the brief joy on his face fades. “I’m too tired to tell any more lies.” <<link [[Next ->questions4dad]]>><<set $QnA to true>><</link>>

You don't know much about your aunt. Much like your mother, she's just one of those people who your father likes to pretend doesn't exist. On occasion he might mention something vague about her but never anything recent. She's nothing but a spectre to haunt tales of his youth. Her name is Antikleia. She's your father's twin, older by only a few minutes. Daffodils are her favourite flower. You know she used to bake when she was little but stopped as she got older and had less time for herself. She was always too proud to accept help from her brother, or at least that's what Daedalus says. Besides that, you know only one thing about her: she was Perdix's mother. "What's the deal with Antikleia?" You cringe at your poor wording. "I mean... isn't she mad that you hurt her son? Doesn't she want revenge or something?" "Without question, yes." You shudder. The poor light of the room makes the starkness of your father's expression even more grim. His apathy is finally gone, replaced with the gruesome effect of solemnity. "She wants me dead -" he continues, blunt and cold, "- almost managed to kill me before I escaped Seidon. I don't doubt that she'll try to kill you too if you run into her during your coming travels. Don't let her try." You don't believe him. For all his seriousness, he won't meet your eye. <span ID = "options">[[Push for the truth|1.sisCont]] <<link "Move onto the next question">> <<replace #options>>---- <<include"questions4dad">><</replace>> <</link>> </span> <<set $aunt to "threat">>

This one isn't even a real question. "What the fuck, $dad?" The exclamation leaves you in <<cycle "$option" autoselect>> <<option "an exasperated sigh">> <<option "a frustrated half yell">> <<option "a near sob">> <</cycle>> that turns your hands to tight-knuckled balls at your sides. You don't even know how you want Daedalus to reply to you. He doesn't reply of course, not even providing a physical response to your words. The man simply stares at you, dead eyed and unflinching. "Mind your language." He finally responds and you have to move onto your next question before you feel anymore annoyed. ---- <<include"questions4dad">>

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You run a hand across your face<<if $Hlength is "mid-length">>, fingers catching a stray <<if $Htex is "curly">>curl<<elseif $Htex is "coily">>coil<<else>>strand<</if>> of hair on the way down,<<elseif $Hlength is "buzzed">>, <<else>>, fingers catching a $Hlength <<if $Htex is "curly">>curl<<elseif $Htex is "coily">>coil<<else>>strand<</if>> of hair on the way down, <</if>> “Surely, I had the right to know.” "Perhaps you did." "But?" Your father sighs. "But nothing. I kept the secret because I'm a coward. It's no deeper than that." That answer disappoints you. Perhaps you were hoping for an empathetic excuse – that he was protecting you, that he swore an oath of secrecy – anything that might make him look better. Maybe there is another reason. If you push him, he might admit to a second, more flattering line of reasoning. You doubt it though, and so you decide to move on. ---- <<include"questions4dad">>

You put the sweater in your bag. It was your cousin’s favourite top – something he claimed was lucky. If you're going to find him like he said you always would, the extra luck will be helpful. And, after forgetting Perdix once, you hardly want to let go of this one reminder you have of him. Yet, with that final item of clothing packed you don’t have much space for many other things in your bag. Despite that fact, a quick look around your room reveals a whole list of things you could bring. You'll have to be selective about what you choose. <center>''Select three different items to pack''<<set $items to ["medicine", "duct tape", "rope", "water bottle", "dried foods", "toiletries", "fire starter", "torch", "hunting knife" ]>> <<listbox "$item1">><<optionsfrom $items>><</listbox>> <<listbox "$item2">><<optionsfrom $items>><</listbox>> <<listbox "$item3">><<optionsfrom $items>><</listbox>></center> With your bag now full, you've only got one last thing to grab before you leave. Your toolbelt is a one of a kind, custom accessory made for you by Phaethon a few years ago. The thing is real leather, stained <<if $Ccolour is "dark">>a pure black colour<<elseif $Ccolour is "light">>a pure white colour<<elseif $Ccolour is "bright">>a bright golden brown colour<</if>> to match most of your outfits and fully stocked with travel sized mechanical equipment. There are holsters on it for all manners of screwdrivers and wrenches, with pouches on one side that can store any number of screws, nuts and little gears. You tie it around your waist and head out for your next chore… <<if $wingcheck is true>>//You've already checked your wings//<<else>><<link "Checking your wings">> <<if $item1 == $item2>> <<notify 3000>>Two of your items match<</notify>> <<elseif $item1 == $item3>> <<notify 3000>>Two of your items match<</notify>> <<elseif $item2 == $item3>> <<notify 3000>>Two of your items match<</notify>> <<else>> <<set $packed to ["$item1", "$item2", "$item3"]>> <<goto "wings">> <</if>> <</link>><</if>> <<if $PhaeTalk is true>>//You've already spoken with Phaethon//<<else>><<link "Speaking with Phaethon">> <<if $item1 == $item2>> <<notify 3000>>Two of your items match<</notify>> <<elseif $item1 == $item3>> <<notify 3000>>Two of your items match<</notify>> <<elseif $item2 == $item3>> <<notify 3000>>Two of your items match<</notify>> <<else>> <<set $packed to ["$item1", "$item2", "$item3"]>> <<if $Wings is true>> <<goto "1.PhaeV2">> <<else>><<goto "1.PhaeV1">> <</if>><</if>> <</link>><</if>> <<if $QnA is true>>//You've already confronted your father//<<else>><<link "Confronting your father">> <<if $item1 == $item2>> <<notify 3000>>Two of your items match<</notify>> <<elseif $item1 == $item3>> <<notify 3000>>Two of your items match<</notify>> <<elseif $item2 == $item3>> <<notify 3000>>Two of your items match<</notify>> <<else>> <<set $packed to ["$item1", "$item2", "$item3"]>> <<goto "confront">> <</if>> <</link>><</if>>

Deciding you want to speak to your friend is one thing. Finding him is another. Last you saw him, the man said he'd be in the workshop. At present, he is not there. He isn't in the kitchen either, nor in the living or dining rooms either. You don't even bother knocking on any of the bathroom doors, that would be weird, and besides, you're pretty sure Phaethon, being the inhuman maybe-god that he is, doesn't actually need to use those kinds of facilities. And anyway, if he isn't in any of the shared spaces in the tower, there's only really one place you can imagine him being. Annoying as it is to travel from the tower's lower floors to the top one, you make the journey up the stairs. But, instead of returning to your room or entering your father's, you approach the window at the end of the corridor. It's the only one in the entire building that unlocks. In fact, it's unlocked now, open about half way. You have to push it the rest of the way in order to climb out. From there you make the awkward twist necessary to then pull yourself onto the roof. As you expected, Phaethon is there, seated upon the shingles. Wordlessly, you sit beside him. "Hi." He says. "Hi." You repeat. A pair of suns shine down from above you. The morning is long gone now, the afternoon heat blaring with all the violence of a beast in heat. It claws at your skin, peeling sweat from you in an instant, beads of it pooling under the light's bright teeth. You wipe it away while Phaethon watches, blue eyes as bright as the overheating sky. At times like this you're almost unsettled by the man. He's unblinking, more still than any normal human man. With the miniscule distance between your bodies, you can feel the heat radiating from his hair, which is composed almost entirely from flame. His teeth are visible through the cut on his lip, sharp as the sun's rays. <<link [[You scoot away slightly|1.Phae2]]>><<set $option to "1">> <<set $Pclose to Math.clamp($Pclose - 10, 0, 100)>> <</link>> <<link [[You stay where you are|1.Phae2]]>><<set $option to "2">> <<set $Pclose to Math.clamp($Pclose + 10, 0, 100)>> <</link>> <<link [[You close the distance between you ♥|1.Phae2]]>><<set $option to "3">> <<set $Pclose to Math.clamp($Pclose + 5, 0, 100)>> <<set $Plove to Math.clamp($Plove + 10, 0, 100)>> <</link>> <<set $PhaeTalk to true>>

<<set $wingcheck to true>><<if $PhaeTalk is true>><<set $spe to Math.clamp($spe + 5, 0, 100)>><<set $spe to Math.clamp($str + 5, 0, 100)>>Maybe you should have checked on your wings before you spoke to Phaethon. While you were looking for him, you were literally in the same room as them - the workshop on the tower's bottom floor. Alas, you didn't think that far ahead and so, you have to trek back down again. Once in the workshop, it isn't hard to spot the wings, especially given how you noticed them only a short while earlier. They lay in a pile on a table, shoved in one of the back corners of the room. Yours sits on the left, your father's on the right. For now you ignore his, and gather your own pair into your arms. <<else>><<set $int to Math.clamp($int + 10, 0, 100)>>You're glad you decided to check on your wings before you spoke to Phaethon. Last you spoke to him, he said he'd be in the workshop. At present though, he isn't there. At least now, you've spared yourself the trouble of looking for him. What is in the workshop however, are your wings. They lay in a pile on a table, shoved in one of the back corners of the room. Yours sits on the left, your father's on the right. For now you ignore his, and gather your own pair into your arms. <</if>> Though it's far from the first time you've held them, you're stricken once more by their weight. They're heavier than they look, hiding countless mechanisms beneath their unassuming exteriors. At a first glance nobody would guess that there’s anything special about them. They truly look only like a pair of birdlike wings with leather straps. It's clear that they’re meant to be worn, but only a closer appraisal would reveal the copper wires, pistons, cogs and pulleys that make them functional. You pull them onto your back and immediately they settle against the form of your spine. Even as weighty as they are, they aren't uncomfortable at all, feeling almost like a full rucksack rather than the marvel of engineering that they are. Even when you pull the ignition that sets the wings to motion, there's no sense of strangeness. It feels oddly natural for them to raise your body off the ground. In only a second, you're up, floating a few inches above the ground. For a moment you just let yourself hover. Then you turn them off and your feet hit the ground once more. Once settled, a familiar thought passes your mind. Your father is a genius. <<link [[You wish you didn't hate him so much right now, if only so you could appreciate those smarts without it hurting.|wings2]]>>>><<set $Dclose to Math.clamp($Dclose - 5, 0, 100)>><</link>> <<link [[No matter how you feel about your dad, there's do dimming your admiration for him.|wings2]]>>>><<set $Dclose to Math.clamp($Dclose + 5, 0, 100)>><</link>>

With all your questions asked theres only one last thing to consider: ''Do you forgive your father?'' <<link "yes">> <<set $Dforgive to "yes">> <<if $packed>> <<goto chores>> <<else>> <<goto pack>> <</if>> <</link>> <<link "no">> <<set $Dforgive to "no">> <<if $packed>> <<goto chores>> <<else>> <<goto pack>> <</if>> <</link>>

"Is that so?" You ask, but when Daedalus simply nods you're forced to make the question clearer. "You're lying — Antikleia isn't really a threat is she?" Silence remains the sole response to your words. It reminds you for the uptenth time today that you are the child of a coward. He's not the only stubborn person in the room though. If you keep asking, and you fully intend to do so, he will crack. "She didn't really hurt you, right? You managed to get away before she figured out what you'd done." "Drop it." "No." "Icarus!" "Tell me the truth, Father." Suddenly the man is up, pacing the width of the room, head in his hands and shaking. His steps are hurried, frenzied even, despite how the small space forces him to move in half strides. It's disturbing. You can't look away. Eventually he stops, pausing in an abrupt freeze as though he caught the stone gaze of Medusa. Chillingly slow, he faces you. Not a sound escapes him. Its up to you to break the silence. "Father..." "She did try to kill me." Your reply is hesitant, finishing his sentence in a near baseless guess. "But she won't hurt me." Another nod. You trust this one so much more than the first. Your aunt hates your dad, wants the man dead, but she means you no harm. Maybe that's because she knows you're innocent, or perhaps she simply doesn't want to make a hypocrite of herself by hurting her brother's child. Regardless, you believe that she's no threat to you. ---- <<include"questions4dad">> <<set $aunt to "safe">>

!Codex [[Helena]] <<linkreplace "The Suns">>''The Suns'' In Helena there are two suns that warm the daytime sky. The older of the two burns a cool yellow white, known as the Helius Sun. The Apollon Sun is younger and brighter, being a darker citrine colour. Both rise and fall in unison. Yet, despite you knowing there are only two suns, a third one haunts your dreams, namelessly filling your nights with light.<</linkreplace>> <<linkreplace "The Pantheon">>''The Pantheon'' From the most well known to the most obscure, the Pantheon refers to all of Helana's gods. The only deities not included in this list are those who have died and those who are half human.<</linkreplace>> <<linkreplace "Minor gods">>''Minor gods'' Lesser known deities. They are aren't as powerful nor widely worshipped but make no mistake, these gods are still far stronger than any mere mortal or half-blood.<</linkreplace>> <<linkreplace "Greater gods">>''Greater gods'' Sometimes refered to as major gods, they are exactly as their name implies. These deities are famous, powerful and important both to humans and to other gods.<</linkreplace>> <<linkreplace "Olympus">>''Olympus'' The realm where gods live. A mortal can only reach it from the peak of mount Olympus, the tallest and most trecherous mountain in Helana, located in the island of Antigonia.<</linkreplace>> <center><<link "Return to game" $return>><</link>></center>

!Helena <img src="https://64.media.tumblr.com/59405bdf5c67130629d72870b2a62d4b/d9c5b212e06f87c1-3d/s2048x3072/99d569406507f9320810139e64de704402dffcf4.pnj" width="100%" height="30%"> Helena is the world in which the story takes place. In this setting, technology is about equivalent to that of industrial Europe with the variation one would expect in a steampunk environment. In particular, some of it relies on magic since the arcane is real, though not necessarily commonplace. The current year is 1323. !!Country Codex <<if $chpt2 is true>>enter a list of countries with their descriptions here <<else>>Reach act two to see Helena's countries in more depth <</if>> [[Back|Codex]]

<<if $option is "1">> Phaethon doesn’t say anything when you shift apart, still staring, still smiling. Silently, he offers you his hand to hold but you wave it off. He doesn’t react to that much either. He just turns back away from you, facing the horizon where he returns to watching the sky, exactly as he was before you arrived. <<elseif $option is "2">> When Phaethon realises that you aren’t going to move, his smile spreads even wider. He offers you his hand to hold and silently, you take it. It's cold. Odd as it is, his skin always carries the same frozen chill of ice, even while radiating a heat that burns the air around him. That snow-cool hand squeezes yours lightly as its owner turns back to the horizon. Now facing the sky, he raises his free arm.<<elseif $option is "3">> With only an inch between you now, it’s all the more warm, given how much heat Phaethon’s body radiates, yet you make no move to push him off when he drops his head onto your shoulder. “Hold my hand?” He asks and in lieu of a reply, you thread your fingers through his, feeling the chill of his skin seep into your own. Odd as it is, his body is always freezing to touch, even while radiating a heat that burns the air around him. It’s as though you set a block of ice alight. You could almost convince yourself that the incongruent temperature is the reason you’re so aware of his touch. “You’re being clingy.” You observe and he laughs. Without raising his head from its place on your shoulder, he shifts his gaze from your face to the sky. For a moment he watches the horizon, just as he was before you showed up. Then he raises his free hand.<</if>> “That one looks kinda like a horse, don’t it sunshine?” He's pointing at a cloud. “Or maybe it’s a dragon? It's been a hot minute since I saw either anyway.” “I’ve never seen a dragon.” Comes your reply. “And anyway, it looks like a dog.” Phaethon hums. “I don’t like dogs.” As the pair of you talk, conversation aimless, a dry gust of wind breaks through the cloud you’re discussing, splitting it in half. You think it looks like a pair of birds now, while your friend claims it's actually two faces. The more he insists, the more you argue back, fighting through fits of laughter and exaggerated insults, until the cloud has drifted so thin that it looks like nothing at all. Talk stalls at that point, silence slamming through the comfortable meander of your chatter with a weight that forces you to acknowledge that you’re stalling. You wanted to find him so you could ask if he’s okay. There’s no question about whether he’ll join you on your quest – you know he will – and so you want to know how he feels about it all. “Sunshine?” He breaks the silence softly, “You don’t have to worry about me.” [[Next|1.Phae3]]

Gently Phaethon places a hand on your back, and with the lightest of pushes, he guides you toward the edge of the roof. You understand the dismissal as what it is - and really you aren't surprised. When has Phaethon ever wanted to talk emotions with you? With little other choice, you crawl back in through the window to move on to your next task: <<if $wingcheck && $PhaeTalk && $QnA is true>>[[Namely, you want a nap now that your chores are all done|1.l]]<<else>><<if $wingcheck is true>>//You've already checked your wings//<<else>> <<link "You need to check your wings">><<goto "wings">><</link>><</if>> <<if $PhaeTalk is true>>//You've already spoken with Phaethon//<<else>> <<if $wingcheck is true>><<link "You want to speak with Phaethon">><<goto "1.PhaeV2">><</link>><<else>><<link "You want to speak with Phaethon">><<goto "1.PhaeV1">><</link>><</if>><</if>> <<if $QnA is true>>//You've already confronted your father//<<else>> <<link "You need to confront your father">><<goto "confront">><</link>><</if>><</if>>

Feeling the weight of your father's revelations, you vacate his room without so much as a proper goodbye. From there, you make the quick walk to your own room, closing the door with a deep exhale. Really, the proper thing to do now would be rest. You ought to stop and take a break to process what you've been told but there's a restless disquiet churning in your mind. It won't allow you to be still. And so you move on to the first of many chores that you have to do today: packing. You start with your clothes, given that you don’t exactly own many. Into a bag goes an assortment of <<if $Cstyle is "masculine">>shirts, tees and trousers<<elseif $Cstyle is "feminine">>dresses, skirts and blouses<<elseif $Cstyle is "androgynous">> shirts and trousers along with the occasional long skirt or draping robe<</if>> until your closet is near empty. The few remaining articles of clothing are going to be left behind, either because they’re too worn or not suited for the summer weather outside. Gods above… You’re going outside. The thought is almost enough to restore your good mood. Phaethon has been able to come and go because he’s different. Inhuman. The fall from the only openable window in the tower isn’t enough to kill him as it would with you. He can tumble out of it whenever he wants. It took your father years to invent a tool that allows you to follow him. Your eyes turn to your bedroom window. Outside a pair of suns blaze in the sky. After five years of waiting you’ll finally know how it feels to reach that high. [[Next|1.i]]

As soon as your eyes are closed, the sun rises. You spend the duration of your rest held by its rays. Its the truest comfort you've known since this morning... [[...Untill the sun starts talking.|1.m]]

!!!Act one, Scene two //Brightburner <div style="text-indent: 2em;">Brightburner</div> <div style="text-indent: 7em;">Brightburner</div>// <div style="text-indent: 12em;">[[Brightburner...|1.n]]</div>

//"Wake up Brightburner, there's time yet until our first meeting."// ... You wake up to an intense feeling of emptiness. It feels an awful lot like grief but this time you can't even blame it on the loss of your cousin. You just feel hollow. The void runs so deep that you almost don't notice the time. What was supposed to be a short nap stretched on for far longer than expected. It was still afternoon when you fell asleep. It's the middle of the night now, late enough for it to be dark despite the late summer sunset. Yet, you feel even more tired now than before. Without question that exhaustion is to be blamed on the sun. It makes you think of your earlier assertion – suns don’t have mouths and thereby cannot talk – you couldn’t have been wrong. It spoke to you for the full duration of your rest, talking with a voice so clear that you have no choice but accept you're being watched by something sentient. Yet, for as long as it spoke, whatever //it// is, you remember nothing but the name it called you. You're sure it said more than just a nickname but even as you get up, its words refuse to come back to you. The emptiness you feel really is the only reminder you have of your conversation. It lingers as you pick up your bag and leave your room for the last time. [[Next|1.o]]

Just as you did this morning, you make your way across the corridor then down the stairs. There, in a near perfect repeat of the day's early hours, you find your father sat beside your closest friend, your mother standing vigilant in the corner. It’s the scene of an awkward family photo. Daedalus looks stiff, body tense and straight. Like you, he's dressed lightly; even the nights are hot during the summer months. Loose brown trousers paired with a beige poet shirt form the basis of his outfit, a belt with similar boning to a corset bound around his waist to help with his posture. The only other accessory he dons are his welding goggles. They sit upon his forehead like a band keeping his long hair out of his face. Because of that, you have an unobstructed view of his expression, which is taught like a coiled wire. He looks at nothing, gaze affixed on an empty corner which, by your own inspection, is only made interesting by the dust. He doesn't greet you when you enter. Instead, Phaethon waves you over and you sit down in the little space between him and the end of the settee he's been lounging on. In direct contrast to you, he's chosen to dress heavily, though that's unsurprising. You've never seen him in proper summer clothes, always adorning countless layers of heavy black fabric. Tonight that includes thick many-pocketed trousers, held up by a chain and padlock rather than a more conventional belt. Smaller chains hang around his neck, long enough to meet the low collar of his grey tee. A pair of construction gloves cover his hands, which are currently playing with the same spinning toy he held this morning. Silently, he offers the thing to you but you decline. Your mother is approaching. [[Next|1.p]]

Putting your wings back, you turn to your fathers pair. <<if $height is "average">>Given how similar you are in build, his are about the same size as your own; identical in everything but colour.<<elseif $height is "tall">>Given that you're taller than him, his are a little smaller yours but otherwise identical, barring the difference in colour.<<elseif $height is "very tall">>Given that you're taller than him, his are smaller yours but otherwise identical, barring the difference in colour.<<elseif $height is "short">>Given that you're shorter than him, his are a little bigger yours but otherwise identical, barring the difference in colour.<<elseif $height is "very short">>Given that you're shorter than him, his are bigger yours but otherwise identical, barring the difference in colour.<</if>> For one, your pair are made with aluminium as the main metal component. Strong and durable as it is, it was the best material to use, especially given how lightweight it needed to be. However, too much of it was used during the prototyping phase, and Phaethon failed to acquire extra after that, so your father was forced to make his wings using whatever scraps he could find. Stainless steel was stolen from the kitchen, tungsten ripped from old builds and titanium scrounged up from the deepest recesses of the workshop storage. The result was a frame that's a little worse in quality and appearance than yours. And besides that, the feathers your father used on his pair don't match yours either. He chose to dye his black, not for any practical reason but because he thought the dark hue might detract from the shoddy patchwork metalwork. In contrast, the feathers on your wings are <<listbox "$wings" autoselect>> <<option "white">> <<option "beige">> <<option "grey">> <<option "red">> <<option "orange">> <<option "yellow">> <<option "green">> <<option "blue">> <<option "purple">> <<option "pink">> <</listbox>> Now that you're certain they're still functioning as intended, you no longer need to stay in the stuffy, too warm claustrophobia of the workshop. Thus, with one last survey of the space, you turn and depart. You've got more left to do still. <<if $wingcheck && $PhaeTalk && $QnA is true>>[[Namely, you want a nap now that your chores are all done|1.l]]<<else>><<if $wingcheck is true>>//You've already checked your wings//<<else>> <<link "You need to check your wings">><<goto "wings">><</link>><</if>> <<if $PhaeTalk is true>>//You've already spoken with Phaethon//<<else>> <<if $wingcheck is true>><<link "You want to speak with Phaethon">><<goto "1.PhaeV2">><</link>><<else>><<link "You want to speak with Phaethon">><<goto "1.PhaeV1">><</link>><</if>><</if>> <<if $QnA is true>>//You've already confronted your father//<<else>> <<link "You need to confront your father">><<goto "confront">><</link>><</if>><</if>>

Deciding you want to speak to your friend is one thing. Finding him is another. You already know he isn't in the workshop anymore but, as it turns out, he isn't in the kitchen either, nor in the living or dining rooms either. You don't even bother knocking on any of the bathroom doors, that would be weird, and besides, you're pretty sure Phaethon, being the inhuman maybe-god that he is, doesn't actually need to use those kinds of facilities. And anyway, if he isn't in any of the shared spaces in the tower, there's only really one place you can imagine him being. Though you aren't on any of the lower floors it still takes a momement for you to make your way to reach the top of the tower. Once there, you approach the window at the end of the corridor. It's the only one in the entire building that unlocks. In fact, it's unlocked now, open about half way. You have to push it the rest of the way in order to climb out. From there you make the awkward twist necessary to then pull yourself onto the roof. As you expected, Phaethon is there, seated upon the shingles. Wordlessly, you sit beside him. "Hi." He says. "Hi." You repeat. A pair of suns shine down from above you. The morning is long gone now, the afternoon heat blaring with all the violence of a beast in heat. It claws at your skin, peeling sweat from you in an instant, beads of it pooling under the light's bright teeth. You wipe it away while Phaethon watches, blue eyes as bright as the overheating sky. At times like this you're almost unsettled by the man. He's unblinking, more still than any normal human man. With the miniscule distance between your bodies, you can feel the heat radiating from his hair, which is composed almost entirely from flame. His teeth are visible through the cut on his lip, sharp as the sun's rays. <<link [[You scoot away slightly|1.Phae2]]>><<set $option to "1">> <<set $Pclose to Math.clamp($Pclose - 10, 0, 100)>> <</link>> <<link [[You stay where you are|1.Phae2]]>><<set $option to "2">> <<set $Pclose to Math.clamp($Pclose + 10, 0, 100)>> <</link>> <<link [[You close the distance between you ♥|1.Phae2]]>><<set $option to "3">> <<set $Pclose to Math.clamp($Pclose + 5, 0, 100)>> <<set $Plove to Math.clamp($Plove + 10, 0, 100)>> <</link>> <<set $PhaeTalk to true>>

Unlike your father and Phaethon who have both gotten changed since this morning, your mother hasn’t altered her appearance at all. Her outfit is archaic and formless, a loose white robe with a golden broach as the only adornment. Really, her hair is the only part of her that's extravagant enough for her deific standing. Tied into a countless plaits and held back by a crown of carnations and hollyhock, the style is complex and eyecatching in a way that turns her plain dress into a statement. She is the thing worth noticing, not the way she dresses. It makes her choice of footwear all the more bizarre. Modern and inelegant, her boots are made of black leather, their heels being the same dull steel that forms the protective caps over her toes. With every step she takes toward you, they cause an echoing tap that's made even louder by the room’s pervasive quiet. Silence is only restored when she stops walking, finally sitting with the rest of the room. The difference between her and your father becomes even more stark with her perched across from him. For all his genius, he is just a man and she is a goddess. Her very presence carries a gravitas that silently commands the attention of everything that witnesses her. Even the dust seems stricken by it, stilling where it hovers so it can observe her more readily. If this is the power of a minor deity, you can only wonder how brilliant the airs of a greater one might be. “Tonight –” when she finally breaks the silence it shatters like fragile glass, “ – you are going to leave this place, this prison, but it will not be a true freedom. The world has changed while you were gone. There is danger abound. Even regardless of that, you have a duty to complete.” “Find Perdix.” You complete and your mother nods. “While I was away, I found you lodgings, a small house by the coast of Knossos.” As she speaks, she hands your father a piece of paper, presumably a map to guide you to the home she procured. “There, you will find allies, a pair who owed me a favour each. They will help you. If they don't, remind them that Asteria is watching.” “How ominous.” Phaethon quips. “Did you threaten them perhaps? Or is it blackmail that you used?” Slowly, your mother turns to face him, head rotating with an owl’s precision. Suddenly the room feels sharp again: intense and suffocating. You realise with painful clarity that her rage towards your father wasn’t a one off thing. She is simply that quick to anger. “Chthonic bitch.” Her eyes are pointed, bladed and unblinking. You’re shocked that Phaethon hasn’t reacted besides the slightest of flinches. “You’ll learn to hold your tongue if you don’t want me holding your secrets over you as well.” With that, she rises and returns to her corner of the room. [[Next|1.q]]

A beat passes in strained silence. Then your father speaks. “We leave in fifteen.” His words spark an urgency in you, one that has you mentally running through your to-do list. Yet there is nothing left to complete. You’ve packed, and someone has brought the wings upstairs already. Perhaps you ought to eat but you find you don't have much of an appetite. <span id="who">Who do you speak to while passing the time? <<link "Your mother">> <<replace "#who">>You rise from your seat, offering a little wave to Phaethon before you follow $mum across the room to her corner. For a moment, the pair of you stand side by side, watching the view from the window. A wave crashes against the shore. A bird flies past. Your mother turns to you with a face that’s beautiful and monstrous. "What do you want?" "Nothing." You reply quick, placating her on instinct before correcting yourself just as fast. "I have questions..." $mum sighs. "You get one." <<link [[Are you okay?|1.MumTalk 1]]>><<set $Mtalk to "okay">><</link>> <<link [[Why didn’t you stay?|1.MumTalk 1]]>><<set $Mtalk to "stay">><</link>> <<link [[Why are you doing all this?|1.MumTalk 1]]>><<set $Mtalk to "doing">><</link>> <</replace>><</link>> <<link "Your father">> <<replace "#who">>Since the man is sitting opposite you, you don't have to move to speak to him, but as soon as you make eye contact he's getting up and gesturing for you to follow him. The pair of you don't go far, crossing to the back of the room, away from its other occupants. "I have something to tell you and I'm sure you have questions too." Your father glances over your shoulder to where Phaethon was left to sit alone. "I'm not sure if we wanted him overhearing." Really, you wouldn't have been bothered much either way, but you don't care enough to correct him. "Thank you." You say instead and your father flashes you a smile "I'll let you ask first." <<link [[Are you okay|1.DaeTalk 1]]>><<set $Dtalk to "okay">><</link>> <<link [[Are things going to be alright with you and mother|1.DaeTalk 1]]>><<set $Dtalk to "mama">><</link>> <<if $Dforgive is "yes">><<link [[I forgive you|1.DaeTalk 1]]>><<set $Dtalk to "forgive">><</link>><<elseif $Dforgive is "no">><<link [[I don't forgive you|1.DaeTalk 1]]>><<set $Dtalk to "forgive">><</link>><</if>> <</replace>><</link>> <<link "Your best friend">> <<replace "#who">>Turning to your side, you regard the man. Phaethon’s posture is loose and there's a small smile that graces his lips. It seems like he isn’t too upset with your mother’s comment but knowing him, he could very well be faking that ease of mind. For a man so genuine, he’s awfully dishonest. Yet, you decide to ask him a question to open a conversation, regardless of the risk of him lying. <<link [[Are you okay?|1.PhaeTalk 1]]>><<set $Ptalk to "okay">><</link>> <<link [[Are you sure you want to join us?|1.PhaeTalk 1]]>><<set $Ptalk to "join">><</link>> <<link [[Why did my mother call you chthonic?|1.PhaeTalk 1]]>><<set $Ptalk to "call">><</link>> <</replace>><</link>> </span>

<<if $Ptalk is "okay">>Phathon’s grin spreads. “Is my sunshine worried about lil ol’ me?” He slams a gloved hand against chest in a mockery of shock. “Oh, be still my heart!” “I’m being serious.” “So am I, love. Your ma’s hollering can’t hurt me.” As if to prove his point, he stands up and yells across the room. “You’re a cunt $mum!” “Phaethon!” He sits back down with a smirk, waving his hand as though the gesture might blow away your alarm. It doesn’t. “Look.” He giggles. The ass finds your shock funny. That or he’s laughing at your mother. “She ain’t gonna do shit.” You glance over at her and, against what you had assumed, she hasn’t even turned around. Besides a slight shift in her posture and a tenseness to her shoulders, she hasn’t reacted much at all. “How did you know she wouldn’t –” “Wouldn’t rip my head off?” Phaethon cackles with all the mischief of a schoolboy. “I used to have a friend that knew her.” “Who?” “Don’t matter. He and I don't talk anymore.” Once more, he waves a dismissive hand. “But as a word of advice sunshine – don’t worry about pissing gods off: even the angry ones have self control.” He speaks with so much conviction that you probably would have accepted his tip as fact if you weren’t so aware of myth and legends. Phaethon is probably right when it comes to minor deities like your mother, but greater gods aren’t known for their discipline. It makes you wonder just how he gained that perspective. Who did he know? How must he have been treated if he can truly believe the gods are harmless? Before you can think too hard about it, he returns his attention to his fidget toy, spinning it before abruptly changing the conversation topic with a question of his own.<<elseif $Ptalk is "join">>Laughter shatters the quiet of the room, breaking it like glass to scatter Phaethon's incredulous amusement to all four of its corners. “$name, baby, beloved, my sunshine; I go where you go.” Despite the smile evident in his voice, your friend is deadly serious. It doesn't show in how he talks but you know by now that words are a secondary communication device to him. It's not about what he says but how he says it, and right now the truth in his eyes. They only meet yours when he's being honest, a rare occasion made more monumental by the glow his irises emit. Your gaze is held for a long moment before he finally snorts out another little laugh. “Honestly –” He gaffaws, “I don't even know why I try with you. Isn't it obvious that I'm your ride or die, your bestie, your all time pookie –” You silence him with a light smack on his arm. “Shut up. You're stupid.” What's worse is that you know he means what he's saying. His eyes crinkled when he laughed but he didn't look away from you for a second. Terrible wording but a true meaning. One day you'll get him to speak plainly. In the meantime, he finally returns his attention to his fidget toy, spinning it before abruptly changing the conversation topic with a question of his own.<<elseif $Ptalk is "call">>“Eerie weren’t it?” He laughs and spins his toy again, “I guess she did her research on me.” For a second you wait, hoping he might elaborate but no, Phaethon pointedly avoids eye contact. That's an admission in its own right, confirmation that $mum chose an accurate adjective to insult him with. Chthonic: from the underworld. It's the first real clue you've gotten about his true nature, so you prompt him to elaborate but he simply laughs again, loud as glass. “I am what I am, $name.” He smiles wide, flashing his teeth. “I dunno what you want me to say.” A real answer, you want to reply but you hold your tongue. If Phaethon doesn't want to talk he won't. And besides, his words are the least important part of how he communicates. He speaks in opposites and exaggeration, smiling when sad and shouting when happy. There’s no trusting whatever answer he might give you and so, instead of asking you just observe. You can see the way his body leans unconsciously towards yours, even as he avoids meeting your eyes. He's spinning his ridiculous toy around and around, pointless motion, diverting attention. Each turn is fast, sharp and without rhythm. His heel bounces in silence. He's still smiling. His discomfort is obvious. You expected it when you asked. What you didn't expect was his fear. Is he scared of the answer of the act of sharing it? He interrupts your intrigue before you have time to contemplate, asking a question of his own.<</if>> “Are you excited to get out of here?” [[Next|1.PhaeTalk 2]]

You reply with a nod, a vague but honest gesture which prompts him to keep talking. “I can't wait to show you around. There ain't a country that I haven't been to. I could take you anywhere. Like what if we go to Antigonia? I was born there, you know. Or we could go to the deserts of Dejanira if you wanna go somewhere proper different. I'd prefer the Kassandrian Isles though. They're so pretty in summer.” With each new place he lists, your memory is quick to supply a description. Antigonia is old, deific. It's a land of gods and legends, rife with war and thick with glory. At its centre stands Mount Olympus proudly exalting itself. The Kassandrian Isles are hilariously peaceful in contrast: verdant, lush and picturesque. Its rivers are the only thing more beloved than its forests, largely due to the magic that runs through them. However a serious magic hunter would sooner skip Kassandra's islands in favor of the sands and heat of Dejanira. It's common knowledge that arcana runs thick there. With that in mind you tell Phaethon that you'd most want to visit… <<link [[The legendary Antigonia|1.PhaeTalk 3]]>><<set $str to Math.clamp($str + 3, 0, 100)>> <<set $option to "Antigonia">> <</link>> <<link [[The peaceful Kassandrian Isles|1.PhaeTalk 3]]>><<set $int to Math.clamp($int + 3, 0, 100)>> <<set $option to "The Kassandrian Isles">> <</link>> <<link [[The magical Dejanira|1.PhaeTalk 3]]>><<set $mag to Math.clamp($mag + 3, 0, 100)>> <<set $option to "Dejanira">> <</link>> <<link [[Your birthplace Seidon|1.PhaeTalk 3]]>><<set $cha to Math.clamp($cha + 3, 0, 100)>> <<set $option to "Seidon">> <</link>> <<link [[Your old home Knossos|1.PhaeTalk 3]]>><<set $spe to Math.clamp($spe + 3, 0, 100)>> <<set $option to "Knossos">> <</link>>

“$option huh. You know last time I was there I —” Phaethon doesn’t manage to finish his sentence because he’s cut off by your father yelling. “Time to head out everyone!” Your heart stutters in your chest. Fifteen minutes passed faster than you thought and now… You stand up and straighten your outfit. It isn't something you’d usually wear, more practical than stylish but at least the $Ccolour hues are right. The trousers you’re wearing are billowy, your top tight so it can’t get caught in your wings. You look prepared. You’re not sure if you feel it though. Yet, as you drag your wings and adjust your bag, you find that you aren’t as scared as you expected. Five years here were long enough. The excitement you just admitted to bubbles up and doubles as it forms a grin on your lips. “Looking good, Sunshine!” Phaethon quips. “Fuck off.” You reply but as you turn to your dad you can’t help but notice… <<link [[That your heart isn't just racing from excitement anymore ♥|1.PhaeTalk end]]>> <<set $Pclose to Math.clamp($Pclose + 3, 0, 100)>> <<set $Plove to Math.clamp($Plove + 5, 0, 100)>> <<set $Flirt to true>> <</link>> <<link [[That your smile has spread even further|1.PhaeTalk end]]>>< <<set $Pclose to Math.clamp($Pclose + 10, 0, 100)>> <</link>> [[How much you want everyone to hurry up|1.PhaeTalk end]]

<<if ($height is "tall") or ($height is "very tall") or ($height is "average") >>Given your height, squeezing out of the window is an awkward affair, one that you can only manage due to practice. The upside is that once your body is out, it's easy to reach up and find a grip on the shingles. You can pull yourself up without any help from Phaethon but he still offers you a hand to keep you stable. <<else>>Given your height, squeezing out of the window is an easy enough affair. The issue is that once you’re out, reaching the shingles is as awkward as it is difficult. If you weren’t so well practiced in climbing out, it would have been a nightmare. As things are however, you’re able to pull yourself up without any help, accepting a stabilising hand from Phaethon once you’re up. <</if>>The first sun rises as you take it, the second one following as you stand. “We all know the plan?” Daedalus checks once you’ve joined him. “Sure we do Dae, ma filled us in only like, twenty minutes ago.” “Stop calling me that, Pyrinos.” “Make me, $mum.” Your mother sighs. In two smooth strides she reaches Phaethon and with a kick, she sends him off the roof. Down he falls, along with the sound of his maniacal cackling. Even after he hits the ground, you can hear the distant ring of his amusement. “I hate your pet.” Your mother is talking to you now, proud face caught somewhere between a smile and violent rage. “Pyrino–” she cuts herself off, “Phaethon, is loudmouthed, disrespectful and mistakes humour for being annoying.” “Sounds about right.” you agree. “But he’s also kind.” “He has a crush on you.” You nod. “I know.” “He isn’t subtle.” Your father adds. It feels strange for the three of you to be talking, especially about something as mundane as a crush yet here you are. You haven’t even left the tower yet, but already your life is different. The morning suns are warm against your skin. You take your first step towards them. Then another. Inhale. Exhale. Knossos is south of your current location but before you can make your way there, you have to get off the roof of the tower. You turn the wings on and fly. [[Next|1.s]]

As it turns out, taking flight indoors is nothing like flying outside. There’s no roof to keep you from going too high, no padding on the floor to save you if you fall. And yet… (Breathe, $name.) You don’t bother heading straight down to join Phaethon on the beach. You feel too free. The sky is calling you and so up you soar, rising to endlessly new heights. The further up you go the louder the call becomes. It compels you to come ever closer. The warmth is sweet. It’s beckoning. It feels like home. “Brightburner.” The call speaks your name. You push higher to greet it. Another sun appears to congratulate you. From below someone yells for you, but they say “$name” and the call says “Brightburner”. You can’t help but follow the hymn of the third sun. It grows brighter. You fly higher. It grows brighter still. Through the glow comes a darkness to eclipse it: day and night shining in unison through the blackened burn of a star that shouldn’t exist. “Brightburner.” It says again and you finally stop. Thought comes back to you like light to an eye freshly opened, instant and disorienting. Inhale. Exhale. Look around. Through the haze of your regained consciousness, you realise just how high you’ve flown. You’ve gone so far up that your family is as small as bugs below you. If you reach up, your fingers would skim the lowest of the sky’s clouds. It's a wonder that you aren’t lightheaded. “Brightburner.” “Who are you?” “Nothing. People once. A lover as well. But now I am simply yours.” “What do you want from me?” “Oh, $name.” It has two voices and they come from nowhere, not from the sun, not even from within your own head. She sounds terrifying and he sounds beautiful. Your name has never been spoken with such reverence. “My little $name.” A flare punctuates the utterance. Dark and light. Like an eclipse reaching its hands out to you. You reach back and [[LISTEN|1.end]].

<center><blockquote><blockquote>//Brightburner, sidereal and fated, bound to the line of Aether and Hemera. The fray comes ever nearer. Bring end to that threading path, and claim victory in the name of your God. Such is the weave of your string; as the sun is pulled by chariot, so do you pull the coming of greater Olympus.//</blockquote></blockquote> The sun blazes and you fall. </center> ''<blockquote><blockquote><div style="text-align: right">[END OF DEMO]</div></blockquote></blockquote>''

<<if $Dtalk is "okay">>Your father takes a long moment to contemplate the question. His face shifts from neutral to disconcerted while he thinks, before finally landing on something that's half confused and half content. He’s fidgeting with his hands a little. You think he picked that habit up from Phaethon. “I’m surprised that's what you want to ask.” He finally speaks, voice mild but not unhappy. “Yes, I’m well enough I suppose.” Well enough is code for not alright but coping. You consider calling your father out on that fact but ultimately decide not to. There’s no way he’d actually be okay after the day he’s had, so the fact he’s managing is good enough for you.<<if $Dforgive is "yes">> With your decision to forgive him comes also the desire for grace. You hope it doesn’t take too long for him to get completely back to normal.<<elseif $Dforgive is "no">> You don’t know why you care so much. You don’t care. You don’t forgive your father so shouldn’t you want him to suffer the ill emotions bound to his consequence? But no – you offer him a smile – you’re glad he’ll get back to normal eventually.<</if>><<elseif $Dtalk is "mama">>Your father snorts out a laugh before attempting to hide the sound under a polite cough. “Things have never been alright between the pair of us.” An honest statement. You weren’t expecting that. You’re a little taken aback by the brutality of it. “Never?” Daedalus chuckles again, fonder this time, a tinge of softness and nostalgia. “Your mother was the best bad thing to happen to me.” He smiles. “We were too ambitious to make anything of ourselves and she hasn’t changed.” “You have though.” “I had to. She didn’t. I'm sure she hates me for it.” “Why?” “Because hate comes easy to her. It's easier than her admitting she still loves me.” You try to imagine it: a world where your parents are in love, where they’re together and happy. It's as easy as imagining another universe. The thought is simply that alien. And yet, you want to see it. It's as if you never grew out of that childhood phase you had, begging to hear about your mother. You want her now as much as you did back then.<<elseif $Dtalk is "forgive">>It isn’t a question like your father expected, nor is it the lighthearted small talk you were originally planning on wasting time with. The sentence just escaped you before you had time to think. “Thank you for telling me.” He says. He doesn’t react much besides that. You think your words caught him off guard. They certainly caught you off guard. You don't regret telling him though. Admitting that you<<if $Dforgive is "no">> don’t<</if>> forgive him feels like a weight gone from your chest. It feels easier to breathe. “Sorry.” You smile. “I didn’t mean to dump that on you out of the blue like that.” “Not at all.” Daedalus smiles back but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t deserve a $child as honest as you.” Your father is glad that you aren’t like him. What a strange realisation. Yet, despite his relief, he clearly isn’t happy. A grin as weak as the one he’s wearing could never hide that fact. Is he jealous of your candour; does he resent that it doesn’t come from him? Does it hurt him to know even distance couldn’t keep you from inheriting your mother’s plain speech?<</if>> “If that’s all, $name,” your father interrupts your musing, “there’s something I need to discuss with you.” “Go on.” The man sighs and runs a hand through his hair, fingers catching on a knot within the $Hcolour strands. He doesn’t speak until he’s brushed the tangle out, and even then the words are slow. His awkward half smile is gone once more. [[Next|1.DaeTalk 2]]

<<if $aunt is "threat">>“Do you remember what I said about your aunt?” Your father asks and you nod a confirmation. Antikleia hates you. She hates your father. She wants to kill you. “I should avoid her.” You surmise. “She’s dangerous.” “The same goes for your mother. She’s approached you with an agenda.” “Are you saying I shouldn't trust her?” You ask but it's more of a courtesy than a genuine question. After years of absence, $mum wouldn’t appear without a reason. Though you doubt her intentions are as violent as your aunt’s, you aren’t foolish enough to take them at face value. It makes your father’s disagreement all the more surprising. “I’m saying you //should// trust her.” He replies. “She’s dangerous, but not to you. You’re an important part of whatever she’s planning. Be vigilant but understand she’s on your side.”<<elseif $aunt is "safe">>“Do you remember what I said about your aunt?” Your father asks and you nod a confirmation. Antikleia hates your father. She tried to kill him. She doesn’t want to kill you. “She’s dangerous.” You say. “But I can trust her.” “The same goes for your mother.” “Because she has an agenda?” You ask but it's more of a courtesy than a genuine question. After years of absence, $mum wouldn’t appear without a reason. Though she means you no harm, you aren’t foolish enough to take her intentions at face value. It’s obvious she needs you for something. “I want you to trust her.” Daedalus replies, not bothering to confirm your words when your observation is so clearly correct. “She’s dangerous, but not to you. You’re an important part of whatever she’s planning. Be vigilant but understand she’s on your side.”<</if>> “Trust her but not her intentions.” “Exactly.” Daedalus breaks eye contact and you watch as his gaze shifts to the very woman you’re discussing. “And besides –” he smiles soft, “I want you to love her as much as I do.” You don’t know how to reply to that so you don’t. Silence stretches. You don’t know the last time talking to your father felt so unnatural. The day has given weight to his words that wasn't there before. Only yesterday you trusted him with your whole heart but that feeling is gone now. And on top of that, you shouldn't trust your mother either, barring the fact that actually you should trust her and also love her and also understand she doesn’t love you back. [[Next|1.DaeTalk 3]]

Another second passes in silence before your father finally speaks. “Five more minutes before we leave. How are you feeling?” You shrug but Daedalus presses on regardless, ignoring the awkward tension as he forces a change in conversation. “Once all of this is done, where do you want to go first? We could go back to Knossos maybe, or even to Seidon if you prefer. Personally, I think a holiday in the Kassandrian Isles will be nice, though I’d take a break in Dejanira at this point. I’d even consider Antigonia if it means I get some time to relax.” “Nobody relaxes in Antigonia.” “Just pretend, $name. Where would you want to go?” You have to hold back a sigh. The casual tone of discussion is so jarringly false, it makes you uncomfortable and yet, you play along. For every place your father listed you quickly recall a description. Knossos and Seidon are your childhood homes, both unremarkable compared to the rest of the world. Antigonia, for example, is old and deific. It's a land of gods and legends, rife with war and thick with glory. At its centre stands Mount Olympus proudly exalting itself. The Kassandrian Isles are hilariously peaceful in contrast: verdant, lush and picturesque. Its rivers are the only thing more beloved than its forests, largely due to the magic that runs through them. However a serious magic hunter would sooner skip Kassandra's islands in favor of the sands and heat of Dejanira. It's common knowledge that arcana runs thick there. With that in mind you tell Daedalus that you'd most want to visit… <<link [[The legendary Antigonia|1.DaeTalk 4]]>><<set $str to Math.clamp($str + 3, 0, 100)>> <<set $option to "Antigonia">> <</link>> <<link [[The peaceful Kassandrian Isles|1.DaeTalk 4]]>><<set $int to Math.clamp($int + 3, 0, 100)>> <<set $option to "The Kassandrian Isles">> <</link>> <<link [[The magical Dejanira|1.DaeTalk 4]]>><<set $mag to Math.clamp($mag + 3, 0, 100)>> <<set $option to "Dejanira">> <</link>> <<link [[Your birthplace Seidon|1.DaeTalk 4]]>><<set $cha to Math.clamp($cha + 3, 0, 100)>> <<set $option to "Seidon">> <</link>> <<link [[Your old home Knossos|1.DaeTalk 4]]>><<set $spe to Math.clamp($spe + 3, 0, 100)>> <<set $option to "Knossos">> <</link>>

“$option huh?” You jump. At some point while you were talking, Phaethon got up and joined you. <<if $option is "Antigonia">>“I was born there you know?” He continues. “I’d happily show you around.” <<elseif $option is "Dejanira">>“Why would you even want to go there? It's too hot.” He continues. “I’d happily show you around though.” <<elseif $option is "The Kassandrian Isles">>“I love that place. It's so pretty.” He continues. “I’d happily show you around.” <<elseif $option is "Seidon">>“You were what – ten years old when you left that place?” He continues. “I’d happily show you around if you don’t remember it.” <<elseif $option is "Knossos">>“Man that place changed a lot since you left.” He continues. “I’d happily show you around, point out the differences and stuff.” <</if>> “Can’t you say hello before you offer to show me the world?” “Sure.” He smiles. “Hello sunshine. If you’d like, I can show you all the best spots in $option.” “You’re annoying.” “And interrupting.” Your father adds. Phaethon just shrugs. “It's time to go. I was wondering why you weren’t buggering us to head out.” “You’re annoying.” You repeat, but as you check the clock in the corner you realise he’s also correct. Fifteen minutes have indeed passed. The realisation sparks a stutter in your heart. You have to take a breath to cool the sudden rush. Inhale slow. Hold it. Exhale then inhale again. You learned early into your father’s process designing your wings that breath is important. Keep it steady and your body will be steady. If it wobbles, so will you. You learned over these months how to breathe when excited, when the stakes are high, when your instinct is to let it race. “What now?” You ask. In reply your father starts marching out the room gesturing for you to follow. [[Next|1.DaeTalk end]]

Neither you nor Phaethon find yourselves chatting as you reach the top floor of the tower. Your mother, who is arrives just behind you, is equally quiet. The only sound you can hear is your own breath: not because it's loud but because you’re so focused on keeping it steady. Steady inhale. Relax into the exhale. $mum passes you your wings. You hadn’t realised that she picked them up for you. They slide onto your back with ease. “Thank you.” You say but your mother doesn’t acknowledge the words, too busy helping your dad strap his own pair onto his back. The sight makes the breath in your lungs hold for a moment too long. You let it go when Daedalus opens the window, the rush of air that crashes into the hall feeling like an… Inhale. Phaethon is the first to climb out, pulling himself onto the roof with an ease that reiterates how many times he’s done it. From there, he’s able to lean down and help your dad out of the tower too. “Oi mama! You need help too?” He yells down and a laugh escapes you in a sharp exhale. You breathe in again to restore your balance. “Die painfully boy.” $mum replies. There’s a flash of light and she disappears. A moment later you can hear an exclamation from outside. Your mother must have teleported up. That means it's your turn now. [[Next|1.r]]

<<if $Flirt is true>>It's hardly the first time Phaethon has paid you that kind of compliment. When the ass isn’t trying to piss you off, it's usually because he’s trying to do the opposite: trying to cheer you up; trying to make you smile; trying to make you feel good. He’s a charmer. Flattering you is just what he does. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t ever work though. <</if>>You have to take a breath to cool the sudden rush. Inhale slow. Hold it. Exhale then inhale again. You learned early into your father’s process designing your wings that breath is important. Keep it steady and your body will be steady. If it wobbles, so will you. You learned over these months how to breathe when excited, when your instinct is to let it race. High stakes or low, you trust yourself not to let your feelings show in the way your breath falls. “What now?” You ask your father, choosing to ignore Phaethon for now. In reply your father starts marching across the room, gesturing for you to follow. He leads the pair of you out, then up the stairs. Silently, the three of you reach the top floor of the tower. Your mother, who arrives just behind you, is equally quiet when she joins you. The only sound you can hear is your own breath: not because it's loud but because you’re so focused on keeping it steady. Steady inhale. Relax into the exhale. $mum passes you your dad his wings. Somehow, you hadn’t realised that he wasn’t already carrying them. “Thank you.” He says but your mother doesn’t acknowledge the words, too busy helping him pull them onto his back. Soft words and gentle help. How different from this morning. The sight makes the breath in your lungs hold for a moment too long. You let it go when Daedalus opens the window, the rush of air that crashes into the hall feeling like an… Inhale. Phaethon is the first to climb out, pulling himself onto the roof with an ease that reiterates how many times he’s done it. From there, he’s able to lean down and help your dad out of the tower too. “Oi mama! You need help too?” He yells down and a laugh escapes you in an unexpected exhale. You breathe in again to restore your balance. “Die painfully boy.” $mum replies. There’s a flash of light and she disappears. A moment later you can hear an exclamation from outside. Your mother must have teleported up. That means it's your turn now. [[Next|1.r]]

$mum regards you for a long while. Her eyes are like the drills your father sometimes works with. They bore into you with no remorse, cold and sharp, but you don’t think her gaze is cruel, not like it was when she was glaring at your father this morning. Not like how she looked at Phaethon only moments ago. Rather, she seems to be inspecting your face for something.<<if $Mtalk is "stay">>You know exactly what she’ll find: loneliness, a desire to understand why you had been abandoned by her. Perhaps you’d appear more graceful if you hid those feelings but this is your mum. Why should you hide? She sighs again. “I told you already. I left to get you a place to stay and to convince my acquaintances to join you.” “Thats not what I meant.” You want to know why she didn’t raise you, why she didn’t care, why she still doesn’t. “I know. But unless you want me to lie, I’m not going to answer.” “Why?” Your mother turns to look back out the window. Like every other one in the tower, barring the one on the top floor, it doesn’t open. It can only show you the world outside; it cannot let you reach it. “The tides are changing, $name.” You follow her gaze to watch the water lap at the shore. It hurts less than trying to meet her eye. “I’ve seen the water turn for fifty years, and spent every second of it trying to figure out how to make them still once more. I can’t be a mother until I trust the tides again.” “Then why have me in the first place?” You ask. “Don’t you feel guilty for leaving me?” “Constantly.” You don’t want to ask anymore questions after that.<<elseif $Mtalk is "okay">> “Why do you ask?” She finally speaks, voice a quiet contrast to her brutal watch. “You seemed upset. I was worried.” “Why?” To be entirely honest, you don’t really know the answer to that. $mum just insulted your friend. She’s done nothing but intimidate and order since you’ve met her. She isn’t here for you. And yet… “Is it wrong for me to check on my mother?” “I hardly count as one of those. You’re being sentimental.” She pauses to face the other end of the room. “Just like Dae.” She’s looking at your father, watching him with eyes that haven’t exactly softened but which seem just a little less cold. “I hate him.” A smile has formed on your mother’s face, too small to be intentional. “He’s a liar and a coward and he has none of his ambition left. I hate weak willed men like that. Next time I yell at him, he ought to yell back.” “Why would you want that?” “Because I want him. No amount of hate could change that.” Your mother turns to look back out the window. Like every other one in the tower, barring the one on the top floor, it doesn’t open. It can only show you the world outside; it cannot let you reach it. Beyond the glass, the tide crashes in. Your gaze joins $mum’s in time to watch the water fade out. “Once my plans are done,” she says, “I’d like to want you too.” You don’t reply because you don’t know how to.<<elseif $Mtalk is "doing">> Carefully, you look away. You turn your attention back to the window, to the view beyond it. You never thought your return to the world outside the glass would be part of a wider plot but the fates have never treated you kindly. Your father is a criminal. Your mother abandoned you. She came back but she did so with an ulterior motive. Only a fool would think she wants you to save Perdix out of the kindness of her own heart. You don’t trust that she’ll tell you her reasoning, not yet at least, but since you asked, you wish she’d hurry up and answer. “$mum?” You prompt and she sighs again. “Does it matter why I’m looking for your cousin?” Not really. You’ve already agreed to find him for her, regardless of her reasoning. You shake your head “no” but that only seems to make your mother’s intense face twist more. Her eyes are still cutting holes through your head. You’re still avoiding meeting that gaze. “$name?” In your peripheral, you can see her adjust one of the flowers in her hair. The gesture was unnecessary – the style was perfect. Now she has a strand of hair out of place. “There are some things you’re better off without knowing.” “Can you tell me why I shouldn’t know?” “Can you tell me why you should?” “Because I want to trust my mother.” She scoffs. “Sentiment. I’m not your dad.” $mum glances at him and for a moment her sharpness wanes, but then she turns and, like you, she faces the window, watching the tide. “Either convince me with logic or fight me until I have no option left but honesty” A wave crashes in. “Kind things can’t sway a bad person like myself.” You wait until the water has receded before replying, only to find you have no words. The sea keeps moving. Your silence means nothing to it. “Why –” You start. “Why do you think you’re bad?” “I told you already, kid. I'm not your dad.” You don’t even try to respond to that statement. <</if>> [[Next|1.MumTalk 2]]

Time passes in silence. A minute drips through the noiseless hush followed by another. You almost wish you could hear the lapping of the waves through the window but no, the only sound you can make out is Phaethon’s voice conversing with your father across the room. You should have stayed sat with them – if you did, you’d have been able to avoid the crush of your mother’s quiet. She couldn’t be more different from the view: the constant motion of the sea and her mountain still frame. How insurmountable. “Was the water like this when you arrived here?” $mum’s question is as abrupt as it is soft spoken. It’s the first time you’ve heard her sound unsure. Is she speaking to break the silence or to alleviate some of her own guilt? “The waves were harsher then.” You reply and your mother nods, saying nothing. It confirms what you thought: that your answer is secondary to the noise it produces. You keep talking regardless. “I’m glad it's so calm right now. Less chance of being hit by the spray when we fly over it.” “Where would you have gone if I didn't show up?” You shrug. “Home I guess. Knossos or maybe Seidon.” “I thought you'd want to travel, take a holiday or something.” “Why would I do that?” “You’ve been in one place for five years.” $mum’s eyes haven’t drifted from the waves once. “If I were you I’d refuse to settle down for a good long while. The Kassandrian Isles are beautiful this time of year. Even the visiting likes of Dejanira and Antigonia would be better than staying in one place.” With each new place she lists, your memory is quick to supply a description. The Kassandrian Isles are a peaceful paradise: verdant, lush and picturesque. Its rivers are the only thing more beloved than its forests, largely due to the magic that runs through them. However a serious magic hunter would sooner skip Kassandra's islands in favor of the sands and heat of Dejanira. It's common knowledge that arcana runs thick there. And then there’s Antigonia. Old and deific, cruel and proud. It's a land of gods and legends, rife with war and thick with glory. At its centre stands Mount Olympus proudly exalting itself. You don’t vocalise your surprise that your mother seems not to like the place. Instead, you tell her the place you’d most want to go if the circumstances were different is… <<link [[The legendary Antigonia|1.MumTalk 3]]>><<set $str to Math.clamp($str + 3, 0, 100)>> <<set $option to "Antigonia">> <</link>> <<link [[The peaceful Kassandrian Isles|1.MumTalk 3]]>><<set $int to Math.clamp($int + 3, 0, 100)>> <<set $option to "The Kassandrian Isles">> <</link>> <<link [[The magical Dejanira|1.MumTalk 3]]>><<set $mag to Math.clamp($mag + 3, 0, 100)>> <<set $option to "Dejanira">> <</link>> <<link [[Your birthplace Seidon|1.MumTalk 3]]>><<set $cha to Math.clamp($cha + 3, 0, 100)>> <<set $option to "Seidon">> <</link>> <<link [[Your old home Knossos|1.MumTalk 3]]>><<set $spe to Math.clamp($spe + 3, 0, 100)>> <<set $option to "Knossos">> <</link>>

“$option huh?” You jump. At some point while you were talking, Phaethon got up and joined you – something you hadn’t noticed while staring out the window. <<if $option is "Antigonia">>“I was born there you know?” He continues. “I’d happily show you around.” <<elseif $option is "Dejanira">>“Why would you even want to go there? It's too hot.” He continues. “I’d happily show you around though.” <<elseif $option is "The Kassandrian Isles">>“I love that place. It's so pretty.” He continues. “I’d happily show you around.” <<elseif $option is "Seidon">>“You were what – ten years old when you left that place?” He continues. “I’d happily show you around if you don’t remember it.” <<elseif $option is "Knossos">>“Man that place changed a lot since you left.” He continues. “I’d happily show you around, point out the differences and stuff.” <</if>> “Can’t you say hello before you offer to show me the world?” “Sure.” He smiles. “Hello sunshine. If you’d like, I can show you all the best spots in $option.” “You’re annoying.” “And interrupting.” Your mother adds sharply. “Do you ever shut up?” Phaethon just shrugs. “It's time to go. Pops wanted me to come grab y’all.” His words prompt you to turn around, to check the clock in the corner and discover that yes, fifteen minutes have indeed passed. The realisation sparks a stutter in your heart. You have to take a breath to cool the sudden rush. Inhale slow. Hold it. Exhale then inhale again. You learned early into your father’s process designing your wings that breath is important. Keep it steady and your body will be steady. If it wobbles, so will you. You learned over these months how to breathe when excited, when the stakes are high, when your instinct is to let it race. “What now?” You ask. In reply, your $mum guides you back to the couch where your father has just gotten up. He looks you over and, with a satisfied nod, he marches out of the room, gesturing for you to join him. You oblige, following him to the staircase. It's time to go. [[Next|1.MumTalk end]]

Nobody talks much as you climb up to the tower’s top floor. Your dad leads the group, you and Phaethon right behind him, with your mother taking the tail. Besides her shoes, the only sound you can hear is your own breath: not because it's loud but because you’re so focused on keeping it steady. Steady inhale. Relax into the exhale. $mum passes you your wings. You hadn’t realised that she picked them up for you. They slide onto your back with ease. “Thank you.” You say but your mother doesn’t acknowledge the words, too busy helping your dad strap his own pair onto his back. The sight makes the breath in your lungs hold for a moment too long. You let it go when Daedalus opens the window, the rush of air that crashes though feeling like an… Inhale. Phaethon is the first to climb out, pulling himself onto the roof with an ease that reiterates how many times he’s done it. From there, he’s able to lean down and help your dad out of the tower too. “Oi mama! You need help too?” He yells down and a laugh escapes you in a sharp exhale. You breathe in again to restore your balance. “Die painfully boy.” $mum replies. There’s a flash of light and she disappears. A moment later you can hear an exclamation from outside. Your mother must have teleported up. That means it's your turn now. [[Next|1.r]]