Aeaea, Somewhere in the Mediterranean Sea.
One hundred years before the Events That Began the Second World War.
Darkness.
That was all one could see spreading through every corner of that deserted island, unvisited by mankind for centuries. The lonely island held only a single inhabitant—one who had not seen the outside world for centuries, if not millennia.
The solitary resident possessed an unbelievable beauty, with long black hair and green eyes, dressed in a fitted black chiton. Seated on a fallen tree trunk beside a low-burning campfire, the woman sang softly while gazing at the constellation of Orion.
The stars that formed Orion suddenly began to shine intensely, along with the rest of the heavens scattered across the night sky.
"What in Hecate's name…?" the woman asked warily.
Without warning, light overtook the place where there had once been only darkness, a blinding flash forcing the resident to shield her eyes for a brief moment.
At the center—and the source—of that light stood a man whose skin seemed like fire itself. His eyes were small, radiant suns, and he wore a simple white toga. That man was divine.
"Apollo."
"Rise, sorceress Circe," spoke Apollo, the God of the Sun, in all his splendor.
"So that I may kneel next?" Circe asked defiantly.
"Defiant even in your prison, I see."
"One of my many talents," Circe replied, standing until she was face to face with Apollo.
"Perhaps it is," Apollo said.
In another sudden flash, a baby wrapped in a white cloth fell into Circe's arms. She stared in surprise at the infant, bewildered to see a baby in a place like that.
"A baby?"
"And now, he is yours."
"Mine? This is a child. Why would you bring an ordinary baby to this prison?"
Apollo did not answer. Circe studied the baby in every detail until her eyes met his—and then, at last, she understood what she truly held in her arms.
"Blood of Zeus…" she murmured in utter shock.
"This is Heron Panhellenios. He is the first illegitimate son of my father in millennia—born of the one whom gods and sorcerers alike call the Unspeakable One."
Upon learning who the child's mother was, dread and horror coursed through Circe's body. Even so, she gathered what strength she had left to ask the question that tormented her most.
"Tell me… why is he here?!"
"His mother left him in my father's care. When Hera became aware of his existence, seized by the same ancient wrath she has carried for millennia, she sought to end the child's life. Zeus, knowing he could not restrain his wife's fury forever, sent the boy to the only place she would never find him—your prison, Circe."
"And that brings us to me," Circe said calmly now, knowing what was coming.
"Yes. This prison is now his dwelling. You are his guardian."
"I—"
"From this moment on, by the authority of our Skyfather and King of the Gods, and as his spokesperson, the Great Sorceress Circe shall care for him as if he were her own son. So I decree!"
"TRUMMM!"
A thunderclap echoed across the entire island, sealing the command of its master.
"Now, farewell!" Apollo finished, vanishing in a brilliant flash, taking the light with him.
"Well," Circe said as she walked along the sands with Heron cradled in her arms, "it seems I'm not alone anymore, is that right, Heron?"
In the distance, the fire of the campfire slowly began to fade.