#eubouleus

Amphitrite: Queen of the Sea

Amphitrite kids 🪸Shy 🪸Accomplished 🪸Hate conflict 🪸Prefer old movies and classic lit over anything contemporary

Aristaeus: God of Cheesemakers, Beekeepers, and Rural Crafts

Aristaeus kids 🐝Dog people 🐝Unproblematic 🐝Don’t keep up with the news 🐝Boring but fine with that

Epione: Goddess of Soothing Pain

Epione kids 💊Compassionate 💊Great listeners 💊Clueless when it comes to fashion 💊Can always spot a lie

Eubouleus: God of Swineherds

Eubouleus kids 🐷Observant 🐷Great teachers, trainers 🐷Satisfied with what they have 🐷Can’t stop watching the same comfort TV show on repeat

Hestia: Goddess of the Hearth, Home and Family

Hestia kids 🕯️Self-possessed, contented 🕯️Eldest child syndrome 🕯️Go a bit overboard for holidays 🕯️Keep a small but close social circle

Iris: Goddess of Rainbows and Messenger of Olympus

Iris kids 🌈Peacekeepers, moderators 🌈Kind of woo-woo 🌈#1 enemy of climate change deniers 🌈Maximalism > minimalism

Karmanor: God of Harvest

Karmanor kids 🌾Community-oriented 🌾Not afraid to get their hands dirty 🌾Obsessed with their local farmer’s market 🌾Indecisive

Tiberinus: God of the Tiber River

Tiberinus kids 🛵Warm 🛵White knight syndrome 🛵Effortlessly cool 🛵Unambitious

Zephyros: God of the Gentle West Wind and Spring

The hall was empty: the few who had sought shelter there during the day had found other places to stay for the evening. Though he was sweating in the temple’s close warmth, ice filled the pit of his stomach. He fell to his knees, his palms clammy against the stone floor, his eyes fixed on the ground. “It… i-is it you, God of Nysa?”

“After the first moon of winter, as promised,” the voice said. “Stand. There’s no need to kneel before me. It is I who come asking you for favors. Now, who gave you that god’s name?”

Orpheus swallowed. “The name…”

The visitor grew silent. He was holding his breath.

“It came in a vision. Certain herbs…” Orpheus swallowed. “I had composed a hymn to the Moirai and the residents of the lands below, the night before I came here from Eleusis. There was a ritual at the temple on the night I arrived, and all within partook of a ceremonial draught. Its ingredients had been prepared for us by a nymph-born woman who lives in the forest. This order had consumed it before, for a generation at least, but that night I saw… visions of sigils and symbols and epithets, and when I slept that night, I dreamed. I dreamed of the Mnemosyne and the waters that restore life eternal and memory to those who go to Elysion. I dreamed of a god not yet born. I saw a babe crying out, coming into the world in a flash of flame and light. I heard his name, then. And in that moment I knew that he would be the one to keep and protect Paradise itself through the ages, who would reveal its true purpose, one who could unite tribes and nations…”

There was a rustling, then the faint outlines of a very tall man with jet black hair. As he grew clearer, he lowered a polished gold helm to his side and stared down at Orpheus with eyes that had seen the rise and fall of civilizations. He spoke evenly, almost conversationally. “And in your vision the name this unborn god was given…”

“It was Zagreus. Zagreus Sabazios Eubouleus. As clear as if I were awake. And it was not only I who had that dream that night.”

“There are other mystics here?”

“I would never go so far as to call myself one.”

“If the mantle fits…”

“I merely listen. But yes, others that night heard that exact same name. Saw what I saw.”

The man— the god, rather— straightened. A faint smile teased the corner of his mouth. “Eubouleus. The Good Counselor. That epithet also belongs to another.”

“I know, my lord.”

“You know who I am, then.”

Orpheus paused. He knew it in his bones. He also knew that he risked being struck down if he was wrong. But he had trusted this god so far. Still he closed his eyes when he answered. “You are the Unseen One. The Receiver of Many.”

“You are permitted to use my name, Orpheus.”

“You’ll forgive me if I do not?”

The Unseen One nodded at him, then shifted and paced the room, glancing at the empty niches and the absence of any statuary of the gods. “I know your reasons. But in knowing why, you likewise understand why no one must learn mine nor my wife’s true identity if this is to succeed.”

“I do.”

“Have you thought on my offer?”

“It is all I have thought about these many months. Especially since time grows short.”

“What do you mean?”

“We hold these rites once every three years, on the third full moon after the first crocus blooms. This is the year.”

“I want you to know this,” Aidoneus faced him and crossed the room to stand in front of Orpheus. “If you say ‘no’ to me, there will be no repercussions for you or yours. I, Hades Aidoneus Chthonios, firstborn son of Kronos, swear it to you on the Styx. You will not have displeased me, you will not have displeased my wife, nor any other god or creature who dwells on or below the earth. And when you pass from this world and journey to mine, your choice here will have no bearing on the hereafter.”

“And what of the gods above?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “These aren’t their matters. They care nothing about this.”

“Why would you come to me— to a mortal, my lord— for something like this? We are such finite, small beings when compared to the Deathless Ones.”

“I am not an Olympian, hemitheoi , and don’t hold myself on high above your kind. Those who oversee the earth, whose lives are intertwined with the mortals and their immortal souls, cannot afford such… vanities. Your kind have a wisdom that comes from the knowledge that your lives are finite— one lifetime in which to accomplish what you can. That itself is a powerful thing. More than you, or the gods above truly realize.”

“But in Elysion we have a hope of remembering what we were,” Orpheus said, his voice growing earnest. “Of continuing on and growing and learning even after death, once we drink from the Mnemosyne.”

Aidoneus shook his head and sighed. “The words written on your scrolls, the ones you place in the mouths of the dead… are a fiction. A pleasant one, to be sure, but all who reside in my realm must drink from the Lethe. For their own sakes.”

“But…” Orpheus felt cold creep over him. The rites for the dead he’d performed for countless adherents… Were they all for nothing? “The visions I had, though, they said that you would let those who are worthy of Elysion drink from the Pool of Memory, that they—”

He shrugged. “I do not know whence those visions came to you, but rest assured… Elysion is new, but the laws that govern Chthonia remain unchanged, as they have for aeons.”

“But the memories and lives of those who are reborn—”

“And with good reason.”

The god had raised his voice. Even now, it faintly reverberated through the hall. Orpheus swallowed. His words came out thin and reedy. “I only know what I saw. As clearly as I saw the child you believe will come from this rite. If I were to say no, to say no to you , why would you let me go so easily?”

“Because it is not your decision alone. It is ananke. If a child is not meant to be made by these means, then I accept that. As does my wife.”

Orpheus let out a sigh, feeling a great weight lift from his shoulders. For all this time, he was convinced that he was being given an order by a god. “I’ll do it.”

“For the gift of a lyre?”

“No.” He paused then shook his head. “Partly. But more so because I know for certain I can trust you. And that my decision wasn’t compelled.”

Aidoneus smiled and folded his hands behind his back, then turned away from Orpheus, observing the walls of the stark temple. “My wife will be very pleased by this.”

Orpheus leaned against the column. The King of the Underworld’s voice had hitched. He was moved and didn’t want to show his emotions.

“The god revealed to you… Zagreus… that was the same name my wife and I had decided upon when we first knew we wanted to have a child of our own. We never told anyone. And this has given me reason to hope.”

He whispered. “My lord, I have hope as well, but… I can promise nothing.”

“Of course.”

“Our visions were clear, and all saw the same things come to pass. And we all saw that the Unborn One would come into this world from the womb of a mortal woman.”

“ Your visions also told you that mortals’ memories are restored in Elysion. When we dream, we see first what we know and believe. None in your order would imagine the rites being attended by gods.”

“No. Certainly not.”

“But only gods beget gods.” The Receiver of Many hesitated. “Orpheus, tell me… Eumolpus spoke of it before he passed, and you said the same this spring: that the sacrifice we’d make would be greater and unlike anything we could imagine… My wife and I have much to lose, so you can understand how that might give me pause.”

“It wouldn’t—” Orpheus shut his eyes momentarily, trying to find the right words. “It would not throw the spheres into chaos. A farmer’s crops would not wither any more than a king would lose his crown or a priest be cast out of his temple.  That much I know. It would be something personal. Not a sacrifice for the Lord of the Underworld, but a sacrifice for… Aidoneus.” Orpheus shuddered involuntarily, and his gaze fell to the floor.

“You can’t be any more specific?”