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“Golden was Raeus, shining like dawn on the shields of the war-host” - Quote from The Hero of Senithae

Aster woke slowly. First, he tested his feet, rotating one in small circles at the ankle. He rolled onto his side, groaning aloud at the pain that spiked through strained muscles as he did so. He rubbed one eye open, the other still unwilling to welcome Helia’s light. His mind began to catch up.

Where was Phaea? She had been there, hadn’t she? He had been up. How did he get back into bed? Aster listened, hearing only the cascading rustle of wind through the leaves of the silvered oak outside his window. Was he alone?

“--llo?” He tried to call out, but his dry throat conjured forth a broken fragment of the word at a pitch higher than it should have been. He cleared his throat with a cough, and forced a swallow. “Hello? Phaea?”

No answer came. He forced himself into a sitting position on his bed and stretched his back and shoulders, arms straight out to his sides while he rolled his wrists. Carefully, Aster stood. Every muscle was sore; it reminded him of the mornings after his father used to try to train him the way he had Phaea. Haemon had given up on doing so years ago.

Aster tried to focus on the last thing he remembered. He’d been looking at Phaea, and she’d been staring at him like he’d suddenly grown horns. No, not horns. Eyes? Her words came back to him. “Why are your eyes purple?”

His dream resurfaced from hidden depths of memory. The version of himself staring back with purple eyes. What in the name of the Worldfather was happening? Aster reached for a bronze bowl on the small table in his room. He held it up to his face, scrutinizing the reflection. He nearly dropped it when distinct purple eyes met his gaze. He blinked and rubbed his off hand against his eyes again. Still purple.

He felt hot, like he was sitting just a little too close to a fire pit. His chest tightened. What had happened to him? Aster reached for a tunic to put on, but paused when he noticed the muscle definition on his chest. That was new.

Pulling his tunic on, Aster went into the courtyard that joined the rooms of their house. A loud rumble from his stomach reminded him that he had no idea how long he had been asleep for. He was famished.

The small gate that served as the entryway to both home and courtyard burst open as Nysa strode in hastily. She had already taken several steps towards his room before noticing him standing there. “Aster! You are awake. That is good.”

Aster wasn’t sure what to say, and before he could sort through the responses fighting for control of his tongue, Nysa had already closed the distance and wrapped him into a tight hug. She rocked gently as she held him close. Despite being taller than his mother, Aster felt the warmth and safety of a swaddled infant.

“Mother,” Aster began, unsure how to process her greeting. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, my perfect star. It is your Poroneía! For you, it seems tradition has called back to its roots.”

“What? What does that mean? Mother … There's … there’s something wrong with me. With my eyes.”

Nysa released him from the hug and held him out at arms length, one hand on each of his shoulders. She gazed into his eyes with the intractability of a mother’s love. “There is nothing wrong with you, my child.” She looked back and forth between his eyes. “You are a light in darkness.”

“I don’t understand. Why are my eyes purple? Why don’t you seem as confused as I feel?” Aster frowned deeply. Threads of thought raced away from each other in his mind, each doing its very best to form a web of confusion that he would never untangle.

“I do not know for sure.” Nysa swallowed, glancing up at the sky briefly before meeting his eyes once more. “The hero of Senithae, what color were his eyes?”

“Golden eyes and golden heart,” Aster responded with ease. The epic of Raeus was one of his favorite childhood stories. Memories of dressing up in crude costumes, running around with Phaea, and screaming in childish delight played in his mind. She’d always let him be the hero, and his father had often taken on the role of the mighty monsters. “Those are just stories, though.”

“Just stories? Just because you and your sister grew tired of hearing them doesn’t make them less true, my little star.”

“I don’t understand, I’m not Raeus. I’m no hero of Karipos … I’m barely a hunter of Karipos.”

“In the Gilded Age, such men and women were rare. A change in the eyes, though, was a sure sign that a person had become Attuned.”

“A-Attuned?” Aster asked incredulously. “Like the beasts we hunt?”

Nysa swayed her head back and forth, measuring her words. “It is not quite the same in beasts, but yes. To be Attuned is to reach a deeper connection with the power of the world. It was a divine path, one of champions uplifted by the gods themselves.”

“But … There are no more gods,” Aster said slowly.

“Which is why I cannot be sure.”

“Well what about the beasts, then, they aren’t roaming around with divine favor.” Aster gulped. “Right?”

Chuckling slightly, Nysa put a hand on Aster’s cheek. “No little star, attunement is what it means to be a beast. Normal animals are as closed to the power around us as mankind. Those that manage to grasp at it are beasts. Then, there are monsters. Those that were never animals to begin with, but simply came to be.”

Aster’s stomach once again rumbled angrily, insisting that its needs were met. Nysa laughed, gesturing toward the kitchen. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

Before he knew it, Aster was greedily devouring a spiced porridge. “I still don’t understand,” he said between bites, stuffing more porridge into his mouth before it risked emptying. “Why me? Why now?”

“I can only guess at your first question. Your birth was an unusual one, as you’ve heard countless times. Despite the silence of the gods, I felt compelled to leave home.” She chuckled bittersweetly. “Your father was furious. Especially since when I returned to the village with you, I could barely remember where I’d been, much less what happened. All that mattered, though, was that I came home with you, my little boy.”

Nysa stood and walked around the table, putting a hand on Aster’s forehead. “Ever since you were a baby, I’ve felt something within you. I have no words for it, but I can feel that it is louder now. You will have a unique path before you, which brings me to your second question. In the Gilded Era, those chosen by the gods would become Attuned on the day of their twentieth year. It was then that their paths would truly start. Poroneía, your Path Day, is a tradition stemming from that. As you know, it marks the end of the guided path of childhood.”

Aster swallowed the last of his porridge in an audible gulp. “So, if the gods are gone, and I’m Attuned … what does that mean?”

Nysa bent down and kissed him gently on the forehead, as she had so many times throughout his life. “It means you are a man now, and your path unfolds before you.”

Before Aster could respond, Haemon burst through their gate with Phaea on his heels. “Boy!” He barked when he saw them, rushing over to Aster at a half jog.

“Father!” Aster exclaimed in surprise. “I thought you weren’t going to be home until late.” Not even Phaea’s Poroneía had pulled him from a full day of performing his duty.

Haemon met Aster’s purple eyes, and turned to look at Nysa. “So it is true then. Will he be okay?”

Nysa nodded in confirmation, a look passing between the two that Aster couldn’t translate. “He is fine,” she assured.

“What’s going on? Why are his eyes purple?” Phaea asked insistently.

“Your brother has become Attuned.” Haemon said, pride and something else coloring his voice. “Stand, boy, let me get a good look at you.”

Aster did as instructed, standing to face his towering father. When he looked at Haemon, he felt something tighten in his chest. He couldn’t place it. Haemon had always been imposing, but it was like there was something else there. Something that wasn’t his father. Anger flickered in his mind before he put it away, confused where the emotion had come from in the first place.

“You’re taller,” Haemon observed. He reached out both hands and gently squeezed Aster’s shoulders and arms. One scarred eyebrow raised on his father’s sun-worn face. “Stronger, too. That is good.” Haemon looked contemplative.

A single tear threatened to burst free, but Aster held it at bay. He loved his father, and he knew that in his own way Haemon loved him. That way had just never included the pride he saw in Haemon now.

Haemon looked to Nysa again. “You don’t think it has anything to do with–”

“No. There’s no signs.” Nysa said quickly. Haemon nodded in relief.

“No signs of what? Broken cycles, someone tell me what is going on. How is Aster Attuned?” Phaea interjected once again.

“We do not know,” Haemon said while locking eyes with Aster. “We do know he is officially a man, now.”

There was that hint of something else in Haemon’s voice again. Worry? Fear? Aster had never seen either from his father, but the uncertainty swirling with the pride Haemon showed left his mind in knots. Tears crawled down Aster’s cheeks, and he realized his body had betrayed him. He was crying, and couldn’t explain to himself why.

Haemon pulled him into a fierce hug, like a sailor clinging to his mast amidst a storming sea. It spread a warmth through Aster that felt like a hot bath soothing his sore muscles, until there was once again an insidious twinge of anger. He shoved it down, focusing on enjoying the moment.

“I do believe it’s time to celebrate!” Nysa announced happily. She placed out several wine bowls and began to fill them. Before handing them out, she gestured to the shield still strapped to Phaea’s arm. “Will you do the honors?”

“Oh, right, I’d almost forgotten about this!” Phaea said, unstrapping it from her arm and handing it over to Aster.

Aster accepted the shield with a raised eyebrow. “A shield? I don’t get it.” Shields weren’t completely useless when hunting beasts, but he didn’t love the idea of hauling one around with him. Though, this one felt surprisingly light in his arm.

“I know that in some ways we have sheltered you too much,” Nysa began. “In other ways, we’ve failed to protect you from the cruelties of the world. You’re a man – grown – now, and must walk your own path. That does not mean that we will not always be here for you. Let this shield protect you when we cannot, and know that we trust you to carve a path in this world.”

Haemon nodded in approval, with Phaea looking both surprised and impressed at the speech. Aster felt his tears making an insistent return.

Nysa smiled warmly at him, and handed Aster the first of the bowls. “To you, my little star.”

Bowls were passed around, and celebration began.

Haemon recounted more stories of heroes who Aster now realized were Attuned while working alongside Nysa and Phaea to cook a mouth watering dinner of peppers stuffed with barley and pork belly, one of Aster’s favorite meals. Phaea threw him the occasional concerned glance, but smiled when he met her eyes. Nysa would periodically interject to add something to Haemon’s stories, regularly refilling Aster’s bowl and bringing him small snacks while the main course was being prepared.

The sun was long set when Aster finally crawled into bed, having drank much more than he usually did or could. His eyelids were heavy even before he lay down, and sleep claimed him with ease.

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