She explained to me in broken words how she was not from the Old World after all. She had been captured one day by the Aloadae’s father and made his unwilling bride, forced to play the part of a toy wife. A human trophy, that was what she was.
“I don’t remember my name anymore,” she whispered. “He made me forget somehow. But he calls me Eriboea now, and his sons call me Mother.”
I swallowed hard as we took the last few paces to the urn. The howling had quieted now - exhausted, I could assume. Was it truly Ares inside? How could this have happened? How had the Aloadae captured him?
I asked her, and the answer gave me chills.
“Ephialtes and Otus - those are their names. They...they wanted to take Hera and Artemis as wives.”
I shook my head and fought off the d
