"W... what are you doing!?"
There was nothing Rhys could really do – for some reason, the Oracle's kiss, something that he could have avoided without even thinking about it, managed to pass through his reflexes. He wasn't just making any excuses because the Oracle is incredibly beautiful, but he truly was not able to lean away or dodge in time.
"Hmn... sweet." The Oracle's whispers escaped her lips as they parted from his, and for a brief moment, a thin string of saliva lingered between them, bridging their connection before snapping.
And for some reason, Rhys stood frozen, his body tense, as though the world had shifted ever so slightly beneath his feet. It was a weird feeling, nothing he had really ever experienced before—but if there was...
...then it would be his meeting with Arachnea.
"Why..." Rhys's silver eyes locked onto the Oracle's face, searching for answers that he couldn't quite put into words.
Something about the kiss was... wrong. Not just because of the suddenness, or how intimate it had been—but because it stirred something deep inside him, something that gnawed at the edges of his mind.
Clio, who watched the entire kiss that lasted for several seconds, could no longer keep her silence.
"W-what are you doing?!" she nearly shouted, stepping forward, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of shock and anger. Her gaze darted between Rhys and the Oracle, confusion and jealousy swirling in her eyes. She had just shared her most intimate moment with Rhys earlier...
...and now something like this happens?
"What... what was that?!"
The Oracle, still standing close to Rhys, simply leaned away, her pale lips curving into a serene, almost amused smile. She blinked slowly, as if Clio's reaction was an afterthought—something to be expected, yet unimportant.
"Your lips remind me of a distant memory I once had, Rhys Wilder." The Oracle didn't even spare Clio a glance as she lifted a hand to gently touch her lips, her fingers trailing along them as if savoring the moment.
"I..." Clio stammered, her fists clenched at her sides from being completely ignored. "I saw you in my visions. You—" her voice trembled slightly. "You were there, in this exact place. But you never—never did that!"
The Oracle finally turned to Clio then, her eyes half-lidded with an air of disinterest. "Your visions are your own," she said calmly, her voice soft but dismissive. "They do not concern me."
Clio flinched at the coldness in her tone, her brow furrowing. "What do you mean? You were here! I saw it in my dreams! That has to mean something! Weren't you... weren't you trying to call for me?" She took a step closer, trying to regain her composure.
"And... why did you kiss him? What are you doing?"
The Oracle tilted her head slightly, her gaze never wavering from Rhys. "How will I understand the meaning of your dreams? They are your own," she said, her voice smooth and even, with no regard for Clio's mounting frustration.
"But very well, I can tell you one thing—The sun is always watching," she murmured, her voice almost melodic, yet filled with something heavier. "And...
...so am I."
"!!!" Rhys instinctively looked up toward the sky as she said that, where the suns were beginning to set. For just a moment, he thought he saw something—a flicker, a shift in their light. But it was gone in an instant, leaving him with the faintest trace of unease.
Clio, meanwhile, took a step closer to him, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Rhys, we can't trust her," she said softly, her eyes still narrowed at the Oracle's retreating form. "She's hiding something."
Before Rhys could respond, the Oracle stopped walking, her pale figure still partially visible in the fading sunlight. She slowly turned to face them, her gaze now sharper, more intense. Her smile was gone, replaced by a mask of calm authority.
"She has a name—I am Pythia," she said, her voice resonating with the weight of the title.
"High Priestess of Apollo."
"You...?" The name lingered in the air, heavy and ancient. Clio visibly tensed at the mention of Apollo, her mouth opening as if to speak, but no words came. She had heard of Pythia—the Oracle of the Sun—but never expected to be standing face-to-face with her.
Pythia turned her head slightly, her cold gaze now fixed on Clio, her earlier dismissal gone. "You whisper of distrust, but you forget that I am an Oracle. You can hide nothing from me."
Clio stiffened at the realization that her words had been heard. She opened her mouth to retort, but before she could speak, Pythia took a step toward her, her posture tall and imposing.
"I know what weighs on your mind, Princess of Calydon," Pythia said, her voice smooth yet cutting. "I know of your... arranged marriage to the prince of Thebes. The knot that ties you, unwilling, to the future of your kingdom."
Clio's eyes widened, her mouth falling slightly open in shock. "How... how do you know about that?" she stammered, stepping back. Her hands instinctively gripped the fabric of her dress as her mind scrambled for answers.
Pythia's lips curled into a knowing smile, her eyes gleaming with a faint, predatory light. "Again... I am an Oracle," she said softly, with a hint of amusement, "I see what is, what was, and what will be."
Rhys remained silent, watching as Clio recoiled, the weight of Pythia's knowledge clearly unsettling her. Clio opened her mouth again, but Pythia continued before she could speak.
"But that is not all," Pythia added, her tone growing darker. "Thebes is not just seeking an alliance with Calydon. They are preparing for war."
Clio froze, her hands trembling at her sides. "War?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Pythia nodded slowly, her expression grave. "Thebes is planning to attack your city. You father...
...he has something that they want."