One beautiful afternoon in the city of Athens a woman gave birth to the most fairest boy in the city—with golden blonde hair and Deep blue eyes that look as if they're reflecting the ocean it self, the mother was happy the father was overjoyed that he has a son, and then he was named Lykas, Lykas of Athens but unfortunately for him, he's not a prince or a Noble child—but a child of a farmer, not only a farmer but a poor one—at the age of five he had declared he hates his life.

One afternoon the sun was up high in the clouds and it was very hot, even the chickens started to smell like roasted turkey, Lykas five years old, only three feet tall, standing next to his mother in the kitchen, looking at her with his adorable blue eyes, then he spoke.

"Mamma, why am I born poor again." He asked.

But his mother only replied by saying."It because you're ungrateful, now hand me those carrots over there!"

Lykas rolled his eyes, with a dramatic huff he handed his mother the carrots.

"But seriously mamma, why am I not a prince? I have the looks and the attitude of one, that's what Papa said..."

"Lykas, my dear I know that this life is not what you asked for, but you have the love of both parents and food on your plate, and a roof over your head, isn't that enough my dear?"

His mother looked at him with a hurt expression which she tried to hide.

"Mamma... I— I'm sorry I didn't mean to sound ungrateful, from now on, I'll be grateful for what I have."

"Good, now go outside and play with the other kids."

Me? But Mamma I'm not made to play in the dirt that's barbarian behavior!"

His mother let's long sigh. "Fine, you can help me in the kitchen instead."

Evening came everyone ate dinner and little Lykas practically fell asleep on the table, His father stood up to take him to bed but his mother stopped him.

"Dear, you've been working a lot today, let me take him."

"But, love—"

"No buts, you need to rest, I'll take our little beautiful worm to sleep."

"Alright, love, this time make sure he's asleep or else he'll throw stones at the farm animals like last time."

His mother pick Lykas in her arms, his head resting gently on her shoulder.

"That was one time dear, and who could blame him, those animals dispise him for some unknown reason—but alright I'll make sure."

"Good." His father grunted before going to his shared bedroom.

The mother walked quickly and carefully making sure not to wake his adorable son, he then walked into his room, placed him gently on the bed, and tucked him snuggly.

When his mother made sure his comfortable she stood up, but Lykas eyes snapped open.

"Mamma... Where are you going?"

"To bed, sweetheart, why? Do you need something?"

"Can you sing me a lullaby, please mamma..."

He gave his mother those adorable puppy dog eyes, and she completely folded. "Alright, dear, which one do you want me to sing?"

"The one about the soldier."

"It's not a solider sweetheart, but a kind mortal who got blessed by gods for his kindness and bravery."

"Oh... Okay can you sing it for me?"

"Of course."

The mother began to sing, her voice calm and soothing, almost memorizing.

«Εὕδε, τέκνον φίλτατον,

ὑπὸ τὸ φῶς τῶν ἀστέρων·

ἡ Γῆ σε τρέφει πραέως,

ὁ δ' Οὐρανὸς σε φυλάσσει.

Πάλαι ποτὲ θνητὸς τις ἀνήρ,

μόχθῳ καὶ πόνῳ ζῶν,

καρδίαν δ' εἶχεν ἀγαθήν,

ψυχὴν καθαρὰν καὶ γενναίαν.

Οἱ δὲ θεοὶ ἰδόντες αὐτόν

ἐκ χρυσέου Οὐλύμπου,

οὐ πλοῦτον οὐδὲ κράτος εἶδον,

ἀλλὰ ψυχὴν ἀληθινήν.

Ἀθάνατον οὖν ἐποίησαν,

μετὰ θεῶν κατοικεῖν·

ἀστέρων φύλαξ γέγονεν,

αἰεί μνημονευόμενος.

Εὕδε νῦν, γλυκὺ τέκνον,

ἡ Ἠὼς ταχέως ἥξει·

καὶ θνητὸς γὰρ, εἰ ἄξιος,

θεὸς γενέσθαι δύναται.»

This was an old Athenian lullaby about a humble mortal whose kindness moved the gods, earning him a place among them as one of the divine.

By the time she reached the final verse, Lykas was fast asleep.

"Goodnight my little beautiful worm, May Olympus one day bless your gentle soul."

Then she stood up and left his room to go to her own.

The next morning came, the sun was bright annoyingly bright for little Lykas, after a few moments he eventually woke up and dragged himself downstairs, his mother was already making breakfast, he sat down next to his father.

"Good morning Papa, good morning mamma."

"Morning Sweetheart." Said the father.

"Morning my beautiful worm!" Said the mother, her voice cheerful too cheerful.

"Mamma, you're happier than usual... What are you planning?" Lykas said, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Darling, can't a woman just be happy?"

"Fine, but I hope whatever you're planning doesn't involve my hair getting wet, mud all over my face or farm animals."

"Darling, I'm not planning anything—but I do have a surprise for you."

"A surprise, oh Mamma you must tell me!"

"Not now dear." The father spoke.

"Not Now? But when."

"After you finished your breakfast sweetheart." The mother said her voice gentle.

"Okay..."

Moments pass and after finishing their breakfast the family went outside, the mother covering Lykas' eyes, then they stopped, when Lykas' mother opened his eyes, infront of them stands a puppy, a cute golden retriever that looks like it's already tired of Lykas' drama.

Lykas shrieks very loudly and managed to jump onto his father's back.

"Please! Get that mutt away from me!!"

"Lykas, get down from me this instant!!"

"NO!"

"Lykas, honey, it's just a little puppy..." The mother tried reasoning with him.

"But Mamma! It's filthy!"

"No dear, it's clean, your father bathed it before bringing it here—you know, he spent a lot of money for it."

Lykas finally climbed down from his father. "He bathed it? Are you sure? Because father does things halfway and gives up!"

"Lykas!" The mother hissed. "Don't say that about your father! I made sure he fully bathed it, now go and touch it."

"You want me to touch that?!" He shrieked raising a single eyebrow, giving both of his parents a side eye.

"Lykas, listen to your mother."

"Fine." Lykas stepped closer to the pup as if it might explode any minute, then he pets the pup's head with a single finger and stepped back quickly.

"There I touched it."

"Lykas, that's not touching it, you know what... fine if you don't want to touch it it's your choice." The mother said with a weary sigh.

"Can I go inside now? My sandals are getting muddy."

"Of course, my little beautiful worm."

Lykas skipped happily to the door but then he tripped over his feet and fell on his face, he just got up dusted away the dirt from his chiton and continued to skip happily inside. The mother and father watched him go.

"Lydia... You've spoiled him too much, he doesn't want to touch a pup imagine if he dealt with other farm animals when he's older." Said the father.

"I know, I know, I do spoil him, but can you blame me? He's so adorable..." Said the mother.

"And don't act innocent aswell, Lysander, you're the one who buys him anything he wants every time you go to the market." She continued.

"Fine, I'm guilty aswell—but he's my little prince, he deserves everything, I would even buy him all of Athens, if he wants it—as long as it makes him smile." The father said with an expression of pure adoration.

"If only we were rich, he wouldn't have had to work when he got older, he deserves more than this." The mother said with tears welled up in her eyes.

"My dear Lydia don't cry, you are the greatest mother, he deserves you." The father said firmly but affectionately, kissing her forehead.

Eight years passed.

Lykas had just turned thirteen, and with age he had only become more beautiful—and considerably sassier. No matter how dramatic or troublesome he could be, Lydia and Lysander adored every part of his soul.

Now that he was thirteen, it was finally time for him to begin helping his father around the farm.

The morning after his birthday, long before dawn, Lysander gently shook his son's shoulder.

"Lykas... wake up. It's time to work," he whispered.

"Work?" Lykas mumbled sleepily, refusing to open his eyes.

"Yes, work. Don't you remember? I told you last season that once you turned thirteen, you'd start helping around the farm."

"I don't remember you saying that," Lykas grumbled, pulling the blanket over his head. "And I definitely don't remember agreeing to it. Good night."

Lysander pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Lykas, don't be ridiculous. I need you out of bed before the sun rises, or I'll put one of the chickens in your bed."

Silence.

"I'm serious, Lykas. And it's morning, not night."

A muffled groan came from beneath the blanket before Lykas slowly peeked out.

"But, Papa... you know I wasn't made for manual labor." He flashed his father a dazzling smile and widened his bright blue eyes. "Why don't you do all the difficult work, and I'll... brush the horses' manes?"

Lysander stared at him for several long seconds, visibly fighting the urge to give in.

"...No."

"What?!"

"I said no, Lykas."

"But Papa, why are you saying no to me? This is practically abuse!"

Lysander sighed and rested a hand on his son's shoulder.

"Lykas, I'm only asking you to help around the farm. I can't do everything myself forever." His voice softened. "One day I won't be here, and you need to know how to care for yourself."

Lykas immediately sat upright, his eyes filling with tears.

"Papa! Don't say things like that!"

He threw his arms around his father.

"I'll help! I'll do anything! Just... please don't ever say that again."

Lysander smiled sadly and ruffled his snowy hair.

"Alright. Be ready by sunrise. I've already laid out your clothes."

Then he added with a knowing look,

"And try not to provoke the farm animals."

Lykas placed a hand over his heart dramatically.

"Of course, Papa. I would never."

Lysander raised an eyebrow.

"...That's the biggest lie you've ever told."

Lykas looked deeply offended.

"I can't believe you'd accuse your own son of dishonesty."

"You challenged a goose to a duel when you were nine."

"...It started it."

Lysander couldn't help laughing.

"But before we head to the farm," he said, "we're making a stop at Athena's temple."

Lykas frowned.

"Why?"

"Because your brain is a little... smooth around the edges."

Lykas gasped dramatically.

"What is that supposed to mean?!"

"Nothing."

"It absolutely means something!"

"It doesn't."

"It definitely does!"

Lysander simply walked away before the argument could continue.

---

By sunrise, Lykas had bathed and dressed in the simple tunic his father had prepared.

Outside, Lydia and Lysander were already waiting.

Lydia smiled warmly as she straightened a loose strand of his white hair.

"My beautiful little worm," she said affectionately, "let's hurry before the temple becomes crowded."

"Yes, Mama."

The three of them walked through the quiet streets as the first golden rays of sunlight spilled across the city. Birds sang from olive trees, merchants were only just beginning to open their stalls, and the scent of fresh bread drifted through the cool morning air.

Lysander carried a woven basket filled with offerings—olive oil, honey, fresh bread, laurel branches, and a finely woven cloth—to present before the goddess Athena.

The temple stood proudly atop its hill, its marble columns glowing softly beneath the dawn light.

Inside, priests and worshippers knelt in respectful silence.

Lysander carefully placed the offerings before the magnificent statue of Lady Athena. Together, he, Lydia, and Lykas bowed their heads in prayer.

For nearly five whole minutes.

Which, in Lykas' opinion, was roughly three days too long.

His attention wandered almost immediately.

He counted the pillars.

He watched a pigeon land outside.

He wondered if statues ever got bored standing still.

Finally, convinced nobody was looking, he quietly stood up and slipped outside.

The instant he stepped beyond the temple entrance—

Thunk!

He walked straight into someone.

"Oof!"

Lykas stumbled backward before looking up.

Standing before him was an elderly man wrapped in a tattered, dirt-stained cloak. His long white beard reached almost to his waist, and he leaned upon an ancient wooden staff.

The old man suddenly threw both arms into the air.

"BEHOLD!"

His booming voice echoed across the temple courtyard, causing several nearby worshippers to jump.

"I am a prophet!" he declared dramatically. "Sent by Lady Athena herself to deliver a warning!"

Then he pointed directly at Lykas.

"You!"

Lykas blinked.

"...Me?"

"Yes, you, you wonderfully foolish child!"

Lykas frowned.

"Hey..."

"You are destined for greatness!" the prophet continued, his eyes blazing with conviction. "And one day... you shall fall for the Sun!"

Lykas stared blankly.

"...The sun?"

"Yes!"

"But... it's in the sky."

"...Yes."

"So... how exactly am I supposed to fall for it?"

The prophet froze.

"..."

"I mean," Lykas continued thoughtfully, "unless I grow wings? Or someone throws me? That seems dangerous."

The old man's eye twitched violently.

"It... isn't... literal."

"Oh."

"So you understand?"

"No."

The prophet inhaled a long, slow breath through his nose.

"There will be light..." he muttered through clenched teeth. "But where there is light... shadows will always follow."

Lykas nodded solemnly.

"So... should I carry a torch?"

Another twitch.

"...No."

"A lantern?"

"No."

"What about two torches?"

The prophet closed his eyes.

"I can actually feel myself losing brain cells."

Lykas crossed his arms.

"Well, at least I'm not standing in front of a temple screaming like a madman."

The old man opened one eye.

"..."

"Oh," Lykas added innocently, pointing behind him.

"And... half of your bottom is showing."

The prophet's eyes widened.

"WHA—"

He frantically reached behind himself, trying to pull his torn cloak back into place.

By the time he looked up again, Lykas had already skipped happily back toward the temple entrance.

The old prophet simply stood there in stunned silence.

After several moments, he lifted his staff once more and resumed shouting his prophecies with all the passion of a man who had clearly begun questioning every life choice that had led him to this exact moment.