In another world, the clouds of Olympus still drift, yet the atmosphere carries a cloying sweetness and a hidden fissure.
Once again, the King of Gods, Zeus, has failed to curb his boundless desires.
This time, his gaze fell upon the mortal world and fixed on the beautiful daughter of the river god Asopus.
As he had done countless times before, the King of Gods easily seized the lovely maiden, leaving behind only hollow sobs echoing by the river.
The river god Asopus, once a gentle and tranquil deity, seemed in that moment to have his very spine torn from him.
He sat upon his cold riverbed, the turbid waters lapping at his luxurious robes, though he was oblivious to it all. Ancient tears streamed down his face, and the wrinkles, like ravines, were filled with an ineffable sorrow. A low wail resonated through his empty river valley, and even the Naiads and fish in the water fell silent, not daring to disturb the father's grief.
This despairing cry attracted an uninvited guest.
Bouncing curls kept pace with her swift steps, the corners of her ever-smiling mouth slightly upturned. The Muse of Comedy, Thalia, had followed this jarring note of sorrow to the river.
She tilted her head, observing the old river god submerged in profound grief. A glint of pure curiosity shone in her eyes, like a child beholding an incomprehensible new toy.
"Hey," Thalia's voice was as crisp as a forest stream babbling over stones.
"The world is so vast, why do you weep here alone? What sorrow is there that laughter cannot dispel?"
Asopus seemed not to hear her. His world had collapsed. His weeping was his only form of resistance.
Thalia waited, receiving no response. Undeterred, she planted her hands on her hips and declared with an air of absolute certainty:
"Listen! The world needs laughter! It is life's exclusive right! Look at you—like a stubborn stone scoured by water for millennia, cold, hard, knowing nothing of joy's flavour!"
She tried to crack the hard shell of his grief with her words.
Yet Asopus remained unmoved, his tears mingling with the river, his sorrow sinking to the bottom.
"Fine, fine." Thalia pouted, feigning helplessness.
"If you refuse to laugh and insist on crying... then cry your heart out here."
Suddenly, she changed her tune, and an impossibly bright smile blossomed on her face.
"The more bitterly you weep, the happier I shall laugh! Ha ha ha ha——!"
Her loud laughter rang out. It wasn't mockery, but rather a torrent of pure, vital energy. It burst through the thick barrier of Asopus's sorrow, like sunlight forcing its way into a deep tomb.
The laughter ricocheted and echoed between the river valleys, as if countless invisible spirits danced along, dispelling the gloomy atmosphere.
Beneath this powerful, pure laughter, something strange occurred.
Asopus's shoulders, which had been heaving with sobs like snapped harp strings, began to tremble slightly. He tried to suppress it, but the laughter was like the most ticklish feather, stroking the silent heartstrings that had been mute for too long. A faint, bitter curve uncontrollably lifted the corner of his mouth.
Finally, a short, choked sound escaped his throat. He was indeed laughing softly along with Thalia.
He laughed, but his tears flowed even more freely.
In that laughter, there was not a trace of joy, only infinite absurdity and devastation. The laughter gradually subsided, like a receding tide.
Thalia watched the river god with his twisted smile, satisfied, and clapped her hands. "See? Smiling isn't so hard, is it?"
The smile on Asopus's face quickly froze, revealing beneath it a profound weariness and emptiness. After the laughter, what remained was not solace, but a more piercing void. That moment of laughter was like a thin layer of sugar coating; once melted, it revealed only the bitter, despairing core within.
The Muse had scattered the clouds on the surface but could not touch the root of his sorrow. He still sat in the cold river, staring towards Mount Olympus. How could an old river god, having lost his daughter, possibly contend with an existence enthroned high above the clouds?
Thalia had made him laugh, but she could never comprehend the storm that raged beneath those forced-up corners of his mouth. The tone of reality had not changed because of a few brief laughs. The emptiness and despair remained the truest backdrop beneath that sky.
Thalia stood by the river valley, looking into Asopus's eyes, now even more despairing and vacant than when he had been weeping. For the first time, a feeling of powerlessness stirred within her.
Her laughter could temporarily dispel the mist, but it could not fill the vast chasm called "loss." She could make him laugh, but she could not give him hope.
This realisation left the ever-optimistic Muse of Comedy feeling somewhat bewildered. She could not fight Zeus; that was beyond her power. But watching the father's grief sink deeper into darkness after laughing unsettled her in a way she couldn't explain.
"Oh, this is troublesome..." Thalia muttered, her bouncing curls seeming to droop slightly.
She stamped her foot and vanished from the spot.
Soon after, she reluctantly dragged Hecate back to the river valley.
Hecate was still damp, her dark violet magical robes making her face seem even stormier. She glared venomously at Thalia, especially as Thalia held her arm and wheedled in her sickly-sweet voice. Hecate felt a pulse begin to throb in her temple.
"Dearest~ Hecate! Most~ powerful witch! Help him! Look how pitiful he is!"
Thalia fluttered her eyelashes dramatically, pushing her luck.
"Be quiet!" Hecate snarled, trying to yank her arm free, but finding Thalia's grip surprisingly strong.
"I still have a mountain of work! All thanks to you! You expect me to drop everything for some trivial matter like this?!"
In her mental notebook, she added another entry for Thalia: Forcibly delegates problems, interferes with important official business, and employs disgusting, wheedling attacks! – Just wait, one day she'd collect the principal and interest!
But... looking at Thalia's helpless, pleading eyes, and the old river god in the valley who seemed to have had his very soul stolen, Hecate was finally defeated.
She irritably grabbed her own hair.
"Just this once! And never again!" she gritted out, then turned to Asopus. Her cold gaze swept over his tear-streaked face.
She closed her eyes and uttered an ancient, cryptic incantation. A dark violet magical light coalesced at her fingertips. The magic spread out like invisible tendrils, reaching towards Mount Olympus, following the divine trail belonging to Zeus.
After a moment, she opened her eyes, her expression souring further.
"Found her. Your daughter, Aegina, is hidden in one of Zeus's secret valleys," she stated flatly.
"But, old man, here's the reality. It's just the two of us. Even if we added Hermes and Eros, who are off gallivanting somewhere, or even a band of mortal heroes like Alexander, our chances of winning a direct confrontation with Zeus are slim. As despicable as that fellow is, his thunderbolt isn't just for show."
The spark of hope that had just flickered in Asopus's eyes was instantly extinguished, leaving them greyer than before.
At that moment, Hecate's gleaming eyes narrowed slightly. The corner of her mouth curved into a strange arc.
She slowly descended towards the river god, looking down at him. Her voice was low, full of temptation, like a whisper from the abyss:
"Old river god, Asopus. Let me ask you one last time: Are you resolved to save your daughter, no matter the cost?"
Asopus lifted his head abruptly. An unprecedented determination blazed in his rheumy eyes – a power belonging solely to a father. His cracked lips trembled, his voice hoarse but utterly firm:
"Whatever the cost! I have already lost too much... Aegina is my last daughter! I must protect her! Even if it means I am destroyed!"
"Excellent." The smile on Hecate's face grew more eerie and radiant.
"Remember your resolve. As for the price..."